Greyskull (Potpoem3) Poem by Butch Decatoria

It's the serpent's summer

The cold blooded basking in the heat

Like those beating down

From the furious Sun,

Like these from the bleeding of brotherly

And Families / communities

At each other's throats

War, at its core, is the mouth of hate

Hell mouth of chaos

The slow death

Of days

We only annihilate our futures past

To be nothing

The finite fate

Of once was— now no more,

A man who is his own riddle

To defeat none

But oneself

To wake to thy own mistake

For thy own sakes …

Make it there—a better day

I am certain

After the serpent eats it's tail

A tale to fabricate

Make our own happy Everlasting

Light of Life

I'll dream you, my love,

The new heaven.

I give you my heart

Oh light of my life!

Everlasting.