The Bragging Hall
Shut the craven door, put on the long sleeves…here it comes
Rouged erotic fall apples hang heavy in the sweaty orchard
Too often and falsely I have been told I am loyal, true and faithful,
Honest to a fault, capacious in my tolerance
Why let waste-wolves take their pick, leaving us wild boar
Cherish stray abandoned cryptic sirens
While rapine tyrants mocking strut their bawdy stuff, and raze ivory bone chapels
to cinders as innocence stands by looking on?
Untongue this serpentine insatiable ambition, stuff red hot pokers in it till it puffs
up like a hamster at the cud
Let that be an end to it for good, then retire us we shall to the bragging hall to winter in stories tall as giant pines and spruces
Reblogged this on Grimbeau.