Jan 25, 2012
Console the faults of a sudden goddess.
May she run like wind chasing mullutes
Clawing the edges of a barren soul,
mending her wound with bloody scrolls,
But, she was punctured with vile ornaments,
crucifying the crowd with a joyful sent.
This is where the shadowy ends meet;.
the union beguiled upon a two-way street.
Beckoning the blind to lead with amour,
for once time and space would be ever more.
O' but the leprechaun’s spirit is a tad green.
A cheerful insult and camouflaged feelings,
Soon the crowd heckles at a captured portrait.
The one I so diligently guarded with my fist.
Am I still a prisoner in your reservoir of fears?
Then release me to lose myself therein.
Maybe dispirit prey to the masses of crow,
whom flaps around in devouring mode.
The world is safe. Is it not! It is affluent as the
green thumb in our flower garden.