As The Crow Flies




The Sun sets in infinite glory
the unfolding never ending story
rebegins to be told a million times
read through a million lines of black and white rhymes
arising from primordial slime
and in due time trees of lime may be harvested and gathered
lathered in nectar juice while listening to fools blather


Scattered like dead leaves
sheaths of silver below the pillar
and above a golden head rested in silence
staring at the violence
broken limbs
twisted chins
a glimpse through the eyes of a prince
yielding surrender to the pretenders
contenders in mercy die in blasphemy
chastity of the justified, purified, and sanctified
a dignified approach to life's games of shame
the uselessness of name and fame
brings things worthy of blame


And so those that have forgotten how to walk remain lame
the stains of shame resemble crutches of those who strut the misery
shadows of lifeless chivalry