Billy goat told them how Salem was lost,
sailing through tumors and murmured moans in the frost
cost an imp wishes, how they envisioned the image of God,
Twitching in repetition as Lepers just arched into rock,
Barged into hoofed quarters and continued to order the flock,
clocks ticking so why we sticking round on this block?
ground mimics tin heights, tonight’s the winters crop,
Can’t he limit how Billy fills the dark,
with phantom angst as his pride hangs dancing in fog.
Grab the grey book pageant and imagine the cost..
lost the tapes they say saw me snatching the tags from this cross,
bragging how they bagged Satan, but why don’t they state how I made life rise from the moss,
screaming “pops its alright, I taught Cyclops how to write with one eye and walk with two left feet” left crying if you believe that love’s blind.
Try dying twice awake, sheesh when I sleep I’m alive,
with ruby red cheeks weeping the thief has arrived,
silently cloaked and violently floats through design
told them of Pieces and Christs rise to divine,
How the tiger turns to lion and
Venus’s streaming pleats took a seat beside mine.
Decide who’s to rectify the eccentric owls cry,
repent for the pessimistic who sanctify angered vibes,
mystic crafts garnered, armed the divide
I held the precious child speaking tongues between smiles,
leaping from this trees brow ailed by a fraille outline,
how they made it look easy,
believe me I’ve tried,
to sketch on fleshes surface and give purpose to mine.
Written in cursive with hands tied finger tips gripping the sunrise
tied to Poseidons sinking wit and split from the wise.
It ripped through summer gales, trailing the vines,
displayed in Mercury’ fiery pulse and fell to the side…
I’ve seen the night rise in my prism of light,
been imprisoned by doves wings under the timid stars eyes.
Will it devour my soul?, or will it teach me to prize?
Reach me liberty, Shit, we owe it to life.
Can the shuttle bring peace while we’re huddled in ice,
but will it devour my soul? its so cold we might just give it a try.
Why’s the weather changing? Let’s arrange to play blind,
and cage your heart in the lake made from an angels final cry.
© Myles Dacus 2013