Slumber Of The Deep Poem by athena bell

By spinning hitherto the miles of tedious tirades;
Suffering the delations and kickshaws of the simple;
I feel the rest of the fast must come to me after awaited
For centuries. So, as I tell you now,
I sit below the cicatrice formed by the monotonous,
That patiently stays ‘til thou can have no self-flattery.
Bestraught,
Amidst the swirls that wilt the mind until, bottled,
Might find the release of it’s yearning,
Finally, I find the source
To bewray the caitiff of mine own thoughts.
Though without wanting,
For I couch while the sun still takes its path,
And the busy bees of the day have subscription to perform.
I shrift, to come
In mine artful painting’s of Queen Mab’s delight,
Twould be most welcome,
For till the modern advances surpass this fence,
No body of warmth can see one’s store.

I find myself falling into quiet slumber
Of the time when swine turn to others
To resolve the fray that thou
and thou ancestors taxed on each other.
Of the time when those of suggestion weep
That they can no more feed off the privily wicked.
When at last the bright of the nature
wilt embrace our pomps
and we shall moity, and with relishment.
The people wore no garns
with old trot precise like that of the beauteous young.
Walked on land set foot by two and four legged alike,
We saw no reason to fell.
Fleshment was caused by opening one’s eyes to
The earth, which prize has no coin.
The “vile” had no meaning;
All but wretched from deep do cog no one.

List, the resolve is roundly breathed:
All who have smiled have frowned,
For without hardship
No comparison can be made to cause one to smile.
The wandering of the conscience
Speaks the lies of truth,
The truth of what common does not inherit,
And the folly of that which needs be spake.

I open mine eyes dead of black,
Beads of water tickling mine back.
For a few adheréd moments
The mist of membrance stalks my wonder
But to mine weary body’s obedience
Turn over where I lie, and fall back to slumber.