WINE AND GATES
Asked To Wrought Of Caught Isn't To Youth?
turn
if your salt in the bread, is a looking
magnanimous, in the sink of horses to earn
the metal of language in the shared, crying?
cadence, and the try of silver wells
the moment of our earth, the thinking pace of graces
with a melodramatic shaking, if not asking of he'lls
shadow upon shadow of lips, the terror you describe is a gnashing
shall we dance?
the cant with a succor of doom, in the still agonizing moment to live
in murderous silence, the rose we fell to, is now the same, if ends
are a waking show for the serious lift of candor, in the miles to give?
these rocks and the thirst of weary religion?
tally's of souls with a sake for the next to make, an apparition?
the somber news to your nose, the judge of indecency that has the independence?
merely the toes of woes that throes of succor for those, intuition?
make me your dour, the few torn to liberty is a whether to know
in the chastity of surety, if not the clash of power to keep a wish
for the notion of dilemma, is a spice that has the risks of banal done
maybe even the kind, is a requiem of doles that have the none to kiss, the fruition
why the water of domain, for a solution in the skill of dreams
persons of vestige, in the security of worth to quietly seek
this and that, the parody of joy in the spill of winds
is a day your first kill, the prestige of the vitamin you breathe, eaves?
shadows of greeting the politics of triumph
the wares of sour demonstration, the thing of doting mercy
is yours, the beckoning art of echoes and the run of a thunder
like the very instinct of a mind with a prayer for ours, history
city's like these, in the stars to find the question of direction
persuasion of dread, in the deem of souls for a kinder answer
snow was your name long before the cure of lived indiscretion
limits found, the clever for a country beside itself, to even serve...
if your salt in the bread, is a looking
magnanimous, in the sink of horses to earn
the metal of language in the shared, crying?
cadence, and the try of silver wells
the moment of our earth, the thinking pace of graces
with a melodramatic shaking, if not asking of he'lls
shadow upon shadow of lips, the terror you describe is a gnashing
shall we dance?
the cant with a succor of doom, in the still agonizing moment to live
in murderous silence, the rose we fell to, is now the same, if ends
are a waking show for the serious lift of candor, in the miles to give?
these rocks and the thirst of weary religion?
tally's of souls with a sake for the next to make, an apparition?
the somber news to your nose, the judge of indecency that has the independence?
merely the toes of woes that throes of succor for those, intuition?
make me your dour, the few torn to liberty is a whether to know
in the chastity of surety, if not the clash of power to keep a wish
for the notion of dilemma, is a spice that has the risks of banal done
maybe even the kind, is a requiem of doles that have the none to kiss, the fruition
why the water of domain, for a solution in the skill of dreams
persons of vestige, in the security of worth to quietly seek
this and that, the parody of joy in the spill of winds
is a day your first kill, the prestige of the vitamin you breathe, eaves?
shadows of greeting the politics of triumph
the wares of sour demonstration, the thing of doting mercy
is yours, the beckoning art of echoes and the run of a thunder
like the very instinct of a mind with a prayer for ours, history
city's like these, in the stars to find the question of direction
persuasion of dread, in the deem of souls for a kinder answer
snow was your name long before the cure of lived indiscretion
limits found, the clever for a country beside itself, to even serve...
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Asked To Wrought Of Caught Isn`t To Youth?
Asked To Wrought Of Caught Isn`t To Youth?
