Lex Taylor Poems

Weary of straying, greatly
I sit on a remote diner
and order a sundae.
Entranced, I bask and reckon;
...

Those tiny blokes with neckties
in gelid offices, confer you
revolutions and umbrage.
I saw the elm, vortex,
...

The years of quiet knowledge cultivation,
Alone, the madness amplification,
Born of a disconnected from reality,
And gone haywire, big imagination...
...

The deeply soft and noble balance,
Of the stalwart punkish youthhood,
Endlessly dark and white fairhood,
According to circumstances.
...

Signs... agents of brutality,
Priceless with mystic splendor,
Telling of death's wooing; contenders,
Infinity, mortality.
...

Words will bring generosity,
For our wooing of loves concealed,
Of blessed fondness that symbols yield...
Desiring informality.
...

Oh necropolis! you charnel quagmire!
Initiation grounds of genealogies!
Lend grim, dead, mellifluous homesickness!
Grandest shelter for my quondam sorrows,
...

To give credit where it is due and sing your praise,
with admiration,
Adoring your devoted genius which deserves
my admiration,
...

I looked back into my life's graveyard dreams,
And resolved the signs' sub-textual enigma,
They are a melange of mystic schemes,
The remedy for the headstones stigma?
...

After forty years with two months and twelve days,
Since you, great modern Dionysus, did leave us,
You, shrink of masses who turned our souls ablaze,
Deserve from the tomb of the earth's vileness...
...