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Tired Scribe
The scribe is tired Late now, long past Lyres of morning scorning night’s sultry castanets Wired like a steampunk wedding dress He casts out nets, hauls them in and finds abominations within Ten finned or no-finned supine writhelings writhing on his wet deck What had he done to deserve this, cruel tithes Shark bite into…
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Pilgrims Walking IX
He looks at me for the first time without armour I plug his waterfalling wounds, as it were my dharma Hand grips my forearm hard and plain alarm Etched across his paling countenance, harm Done to one is done to all, done to self, a charm Bracelet of jangling apotropaics You won’t ever have that…
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Pilgrims Walking VIII
His fast-beating heart so often in his mouth Slows like lust at hundred’s half He bleeds like a stuck calf Soon his white shirt is plastered To him pink and diaphanous Like old revenge cast in alabaster His eyes wells, the spells he won’t cast The worlds he will never master Forbidden from this ever…
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Pilgrims Walking – VII
In the morning no sign of the knights Off with their hides, hied to the night Only memories left behind As rind and reminder Life can be like a wine cup, full up of the good stuff Or empty, a wind up bird it can sit in the drawer or fly plenty High hundreds of…
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DissBarred
See through your craft, pyrex lyrics Burn down your raft, fire ass lyrics In your wallet a perished prop durex In my wallet a rarified crop of flex Worthy bills They fan wide Fans far and wide Plans from which you cannot hide Plans involving your slow demise Neither all smiles nor miser Realest since…
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Alchemisland 