Metrical Verse
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An open book Raw fusty air Dare not look Or even stare Living rough No way to go Wherefore much stuff? No way to know Dingy socks Soiled drawers Uncivil blocks Cruel outdoors
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Listen close Hear Satan laugh Lethal dose Crippling staff On and on So, it goes Dusk to dawn Fatal blows Quiet still Not my war Cannot kill Anymore
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Scorned by deception Ridiculed by hate Everything to no one Ordained in state Curse hangs on Length of days Faithful shadow Spirit ablaze Moving the earth Resting sights Mortal blows Angelic lights
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Pet phones and trivial dogs Held by drones, led by cogs Lost in space without a doubt This human race is flaming out In the mass, in the main Crystal glass where minds lie slain
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Publicly I yearn to flee Whitey’s face e’er haunting me Shuffling along to the bank, I trek Reparations, a gub-mint check Shameless clown, without a doubt (I may be brown, but I’m not out) Bondage yore, late ethnic craze Weeping sore in present daze.
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Shooting demon touch Nonstop over land Roguish vibrant lust Satan’s magic band Jabbing fatal lees Constant eerie ploy Errant lifeless ease Playful mindless joy Stabbing toxic nail Endless awful links Fragile psyches pale Spooky wicked jinx Pricking lethal shaft Eternal blighted wraith Wayward ancient craft Spectral covert faith Piercing deadly waves Boundless, trusty ghouls Rowdy…
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Oh, how I long To silence you A deceitful throng In full view The prince of the air No one escapes Bounded by glare Vague twisted shapes Duped by awe Trapped in time Absent law Tither’s no crime Unable to run Fain to hide Past is begun No way inside
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I stake you For my awful souse To halve and to mold From this day froward For debtor, for curse For ditcher, for borer In sickness and in pelf, Until death due us part, I will shove and Donar you All the daze of your life
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Shelved in cold Shrouded with dread, Low and behold, I am truly dead Below the ground Tither’s no rest Unclothed and bound Without contest An eerie place Ancestral flow This memory trace I can’t forgo Touching sin Woe is me To my chagrin, I hold no plea A trumpet sounds It is done True mercy…
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Spreading without Evil within I have no doubt You cannot win A shameless tike Stern reaper of death With my first strike Take your last breath Per a proctoscope Run you through An awful trope Inside my view
