WINE AND GATES
Spiders And Forth Right Ordained Nest's, Secondly...
power to the man
light to finish, the limits of insight
to wink at a new heed of curiosity, according to plan...?
the six of us need a seventh, to play the part of sin's right
since we're now eight, the foil of need or neglect
who is who?
in the smell of suicide to come, for a sound in the reflect...
of watching morbidity, the saint of phrases to know, prudence?
wouldn't you...?
the tact of chances alive for a door or another, the taste of history
made, for you and me to seek, the toes of another who'd...
come by at about six, and you will see the next in line make the day, epistolary
fear is
toils of angry sorts to know when, we have found the tooth of an ancient man
too old to talk about anything but himself, for a comparison of wisdom, wise
was the nature of demand in our hap, the creation of sanity for a rescued vanity?
fear was
the myth of domain for anarchy to subtly ask itself in the shadows
were we made for better things, the notion of duty to free itself from a pacing us
this future order to anger comes in the form of a vow, vowel, valleys and victory over owing's
fear thus
the sanity of another, sensate in the truth, of a sovereign eye
the choice in taste has come, to flames in the miles, not the miracle of supposed must
we have greater pictures in mind, for a sake in the winds of change, where even it knew a lover
their future
painted as a house on fire can be, living with the songs of memory to keep, in
the way to a fate in the passion of more than a hill of what was, never
made from anything for loved ideas and misery in toe, is tact of nearing the gift of opinions
light to finish, the limits of insight
to wink at a new heed of curiosity, according to plan...?
the six of us need a seventh, to play the part of sin's right
since we're now eight, the foil of need or neglect
who is who?
in the smell of suicide to come, for a sound in the reflect...
of watching morbidity, the saint of phrases to know, prudence?
wouldn't you...?
the tact of chances alive for a door or another, the taste of history
made, for you and me to seek, the toes of another who'd...
come by at about six, and you will see the next in line make the day, epistolary
fear is
toils of angry sorts to know when, we have found the tooth of an ancient man
too old to talk about anything but himself, for a comparison of wisdom, wise
was the nature of demand in our hap, the creation of sanity for a rescued vanity?
fear was
the myth of domain for anarchy to subtly ask itself in the shadows
were we made for better things, the notion of duty to free itself from a pacing us
this future order to anger comes in the form of a vow, vowel, valleys and victory over owing's
fear thus
the sanity of another, sensate in the truth, of a sovereign eye
the choice in taste has come, to flames in the miles, not the miracle of supposed must
we have greater pictures in mind, for a sake in the winds of change, where even it knew a lover
their future
painted as a house on fire can be, living with the songs of memory to keep, in
the way to a fate in the passion of more than a hill of what was, never
made from anything for loved ideas and misery in toe, is tact of nearing the gift of opinions
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Spiders And Forth Right Ordained Nest`s, Secondly...
Spiders And Forth Right Ordained Nest`s, Secondly...
