their gruel's beyond repent
Through the forest of old nightmares
past the misty fog of sweat and tears,
broken light sheds no path or fares
I’m too lost to hide without it,
half a world lies pallid and prostrate
shallow breath and faint beats ring,
clambering high over the stile to abate
nightmare creatures and their relatives.
here comes the outlaw’s pose
a jaunt towards a home away from home,
they hone their skills with campfire tales
and adhere to rare and darkly sacred tomes,
they believe in a truth that fails every time
still they pick it back up and devour it again,
they’re sure that their coven of mendacity
is the magic that stupors the erudite to fools.
The bell tolls in the distance
church goers endure another sermon of sanctimony,
the collar at the lectern shakes an eager sweating fist
as the parishioners tremble at his words and on his maybes,
and as night will loom over his hollow choice of verbose chatter
a summation of a congregation gathers weight and vents,
we all live inside a nightmare of our own making
the gruel we eat is beyond repent.
(2014)
