I will die daily,
I will become blind,
I will move mountains
And call Cupid
Humans hollering hasty hellos
At all. And annulling again.
My mangy moonsongs made mincemeat
This night within the Cellar of Desire,
the warmth of Pleasure's Embrace
will push Me onwards
to Satisfaction's End,
Between these twin boulders -
Discouragement and frustration galore -
Is trapped talent.
Smothered by dirt,
Roving eyes in eternal meander
Ontop the pudgy stalk of pretty Amanda.
Choking a well earned cardio-balance
For the good I never did
And for never sowing the seed
I should have. For taking more at a time
Than I ever did need,
On the white horse of thunder
rides the invincible conqueror.
Lord of all,
friend to all.
The stars lit the heavens
and the Earth radiated their glory.
Shadows of the dark hid in their folly,
mesmerised by the sparks of true success
A feast of a thousand lords
And many more wards
For a sagely compatriot,
Wordlord and chief of our tribe.
I will die this moment
This moment of cumulative despair and anguish