The cold reality of the morning after Mardi Gras
Is filthy soiled from yesterday's mindless
turmoil in search of The fine art of rivalry
and indulgenced liquid haunting courage
Performing once abhorrent dances
Deluded into belief in transient ecstasy
proven to be as ever ethereal elusive
And fraught with buyers remorse
The gutters run with a sultry rain
Washing the beads and flotsam
Of a world in search of nirvana
Down their gaping darkened maws
With sober eye startling our throbbing
Minds we face Ourselves in dirty broken
mirrors And resolve again to once more be
Loving in its truest sense.
Poetry by josephus
Read 601 times
Written on 2019-03-07 at 13:29
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First Lenten morning
The harliquined gold and silver costumeIs filthy soiled from yesterday's mindless
turmoil in search of The fine art of rivalry
and indulgenced liquid haunting courage
Performing once abhorrent dances
Deluded into belief in transient ecstasy
proven to be as ever ethereal elusive
And fraught with buyers remorse
The gutters run with a sultry rain
Washing the beads and flotsam
Of a world in search of nirvana
Down their gaping darkened maws
With sober eye startling our throbbing
Minds we face Ourselves in dirty broken
mirrors And resolve again to once more be
Loving in its truest sense.
Poetry by josephus
Read 601 times
Written on 2019-03-07 at 13:29
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
