Darkness '93 Poem by Lex Taylor

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.

Omitting the inspirers' tags thereof,
For paraphrasing would taint my belove,
Leading with displeasing double-meaning,
But not like deserving non-polite shove.

Direct connotations need machining,
For expurgation of other meanings,
Like doom of French Parnassus yet lasting,
For a man with soles of wind greening!

At night she lay alone in bed... fasting,
Outside, the witless eighties were blasting.