Sanctuary Poem by Alexander Zalan

Roaming abysmal, tarnished corners,
Divulging masks of gore and truth,
Recumbent, banished, bashful mourners,
Elicit rudimental ruth.

In every lucid dew of mornings,
On tiles, like talons of the shrine,
My gleeful, perishable soarings,
Girdle each breath with whimsy's vine.

The realms of perplexing ages,
Of arrays that pervade my flesh,
The clamour brandishing the sages,
Insatiably gnaws the rash.

The inconspicuous scent of gore,
Of avid decadence and lust,
As clandestine, intrepid lore,
Adorns distorted mounds of crust.

I crave for times of peevish mettle,
Of glory unabashed by myth,
Rampaging pace of dusk will settle,
And only then thy sword will sheathe.

Voluptuous sins of trite disorder,
Equivocal disdain en masse,
Such tumult disembowels hoarder,
Refracting castle's fragile glass.

What I extrapolate from paper,
Is ostentatious, oozing zeal,
Paraphernalia for draper,
To customize, abduct and heal.

Implacable are sways of scolding,
Impertinent and yet sublime,
Obliterating years of moulding,
As if they have unshackled crime.

My garden garnishes the ponder,
Unleashed is virtuous, pious morph,
This domain must protrude a wonder,
The one that fathoms mental girth.

My iris penetrates the matter,
Of floating world and noble art,
Excruciating is to scatter,
Pernicious thoughts of squandered act.