Being A Death Poem by Leon Moon

Being a death I was unfamiliar with
And accustomed to receiving,
I sang stolen the swollen past
The soldier suns to clash
And such a siege of soul
Seizing solitude from the solipsistic
Craft sets the unamused
And self-assumed regime of Dawn,
Scars sense like a sunken star
Lied drunken as a prize hidden
In the least objected prosaic sky
No boss eye or cross-die telescope
Relies or cops out to devise;
The blue blood mosaic
Eulogising the broken beauty
Beatifying the everlasting lie.

The spirit emits an interval
Funding flesh for vision
Fusing the godless assuring
Sacrifice begets paradise
And converted wilt is not a ride,
The scales outsource demise
And scale reprise til refunded
And Deux-fixated armistice
Carves wings until paralysed,
The cradles of Sisyphus
Chug along the assembly line
Rising to unfathomable depths,
The debts are collected at sunrise;
Venom canvases the eye
And shutters blink solely for a birthday
Resting in purpose that has no source for day.