Sunday, March 13, 2011


The mark of the beast swept in
With a crimson spray vessel
A lonely widow, a young couple
The blackness  swept
While we slept
A  ghostly finger came sweeping
Across the brick yards.
Agnostic, Acrostic, shameful ways.

Now the dusk owl is perched
Upon his lamb
Seeking to consider whom he might find
A boy scout flashlight in hand.
Gangs, graffiti, munchkins all
Nary a fear
As he trembles.
Not to be jittery  
Of the red smears
Or the jeers
As the night prey

1 comment:

  1. the metaphorical connection between darkness and piracy kind of took me away. i enjoyed the rhythmic swiftness in it and would want to read more. connect with me on my blog Rhythmic Rhymes @