A Broken Fancy

Bastards, Buzzers, Buggers and Beasts

Be all that you can be

Unless you are the embodiment of greed

In which case, I do by beseech

Please conform your tone of speech

Basters, Buzzards, Beggars and Breeds

Beckon beauty beside you now

Stare deep between her eyes

And question this blessed creature,

As to why you and your types are ever fatedly cursed

Barkers, Besters, Beadles and Burkes

Beset the breath

Of ambling boars

A broken fancy left unturned…

Penance

Every clipping, sharks the gullet of vacancy

Shadows culling dreams well worn

Vixens, Vipers, Viragos, Asps

A venomous caldarium

Scalding with each splash

Steam shrouds the succubus inside

Layered lids lay listless amongst yarns & lies

In lieu of the lackadaisically leveled Libran scales

Weights unmeasured risk resurrecting the waxen toll

Talismans and their phylacteries

Fringed magical, frayed too fine- 

For the tricks of precursors translucent lures,

Doting singes temple speak; the scriptures tome-like tones repeat

Crafting divinity from a collage of time; Divinations all

Until the sickle reaps a harvest’s moon

Until the stone wets, once sword relinquishes tenures term

Every extract, sharks the gullets of mind

While shadows sift the wraiths of love,

Resplendent twinkling’s flash before

Safely plucked as tensions quell the thirsts of yore

The fields of perdition

Flooded, by permafrost

Then awoken in oil-

To which, but one stroke

Can set the match