Lex Taylor

Monstrosities needing an uprooting,
Continue appearing in the dead woodbine,
Their scathing and ludicrous disputing,
Out of the edges of any plot line,
...

Deceased, carnal, hostile, western schools of thought,
Rejecting the institutes of the Lord,
With secret personal fear to be outscored,
The laments of the dead this musings have brought,
...

Dead sings of prying complexity,
Kind of impossible to explain.
Vile greed for servilism profane;
It's inferiority's duty.
...

Oh my adored, passing, tourist lassies,
And my model, worshiped, billboard damsels,
With friendly, about town, style that agrees,
And mangler deities, and heartsick angels...
...

The darkness' visages were contrasting,
But dead signs were of love everlasting,
And fragrant of primary's school pure love,
Matchers of obsessions which are lasting.
...

No one could know the untold signs,
So their dead spell did not run cruel,
Its loving, ambiguous accruals,
Went to pass away to the brine,
...

Symphony for the dead fairies,
Composed by the fays exquisite,
With its kindly trust like velvet,
And planar visions of furies,
...

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...
...

The dead have fun in calling us names,
Even mimicking and disrespecting,
With pathetic and fancy nicknames,
Which prompt a poetic justice deflecting,
...