Love

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Phoenix Poetry
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Submitted: April 11, 2017

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Submitted: April 11, 2017

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Often the fiery harp and it's squinting royalties set close 
To my brine fringed temenos, on the left to a paradise 
That is left indifferent to all sunken eyes; all spirits gross,
They rise through the ticking promenade, a pinkish gneiss, 
And gargle and froth from my mouth, a sea of impurities...
Withinn my sacred ground I drown in pathological auguries, 
Where all concepts are revelations and each grain's a candle 
For the light of an eye shut too long. Luna's unveiled sororities, 
Fine strings of emerald and jade (it's modernity!) are the handle 
For the polar evenings that freeze wine and swoon placid vines; 
Though I have often wore a crown with honesty, a genuine king, 
I quickly stitch pride to my throat and despise Apollo's delicacies. Pines
Litter under the dark Ocean's chin. I have sewn peace to a thing; 
To the wrinkled nits who dance on dry scalps and suck the ore of miserable sense
Love for them, for all, is never out reach or a far
For hatred is a form of love, a strand of it's eternity, as in loves absence
It creates a thing; Like the Moon to the Sun, or a flower to a star 
We are lead by the leash until we infuse the opposites, 
I hold the secret to all the pain and all love upon my lips. 
Though, with my cheap baton and rigid snake that sits 
Above my long (gone) golden locks and sips 
The apathy from my seething skull, I return to the weary sane, 
Where I am most vigorous and childlike in the mind. 
I play all rusted harps on the shores of all phosphorous grain
Tuning them to a breast, the heath, the eye, the night, the mind...
And as a young boy, fair and slender, parching and pale, on my old age I reminisce 
And still, from a beloved other than memory, hold for that kiss... 


© Copyright 2017 Manx. All rights reserved.

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