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Of The Night

Wander through the Winter in a world of white
Stars are shining bright upon the black lakes and ponds
'Burning Tigers Of The Night'
Prowl celestial weathers dressed in garish prison cleric stripes
Pouncing on armies of hungry mice fighting blind for only
A promise of Paradise tossed like crumbs to the social pinhead mobs
Looking for things and money, bathing in objects whilst Heaven sobs
For millennia of lost souls government militiamen man the Federal tolls;

High above the circular astral speck of 'what a waste'
Angels shake their heads, some hold their nose
As though to question Divine Wisdoms decision to cut and paste
Time jigsaws every which way, juxtaposes, opens and closes
Stone Walls splinter, iron doors shiver and dissolve into atomic rhyme
All the actors wearing stolen suits, with rotten fruits from poisoned vines,
Blare and blurt the empty hurt that they alone can 'make things right'

Wander through the Winter in a world of white
Stars are shining bright upon black ponds and lakes
'Burning Tigers Of The Night'.



Poetry by Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 489 times
Written on 2016-05-01 at 14:40

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