O Raise not thy gaze at a visage proud,
that be’est fate, my most ingenuous dupe,
set instead thy gaze at yon found
very end to which life must stoop.
Listen my progeny, as I know not of joy
so when’st thou giggle I feel only grief,
and might I add thou art a bastardly boy,
I abhorr thee at best, regret thou in brief.
Lead thou I may, but I swear not to days,
of enduring peace or of eternal wonder,
I merely lead, perhaps to uncertain ways,
and I only lead unto prospects under.
Argue of nations with lesser a founding?
inheritors least of morals in standing?
children that came at moments misfortune
yet fathered not same an era withstanding?
But see my rascal, the same is not true,
though if even it be, I do hardly agree
for agree I shan’t in opinions lieu,
and agree I must in opinions dreamt free.
If thou recoil’est at the sight of me,
I wish you to witness all that I hath,
what people unto people thus dole unto thee
the children of eve, the dogs of days wrath.
Ti’s a pity for pity to not find,
in an hour such as this its way
to those who adhered in its hind
and lead the bleak souls of dismay,
from fates blackened, vacant hope,
joyless aim, and aimless hunger,
into such hopes which did elope
with equal lives fore them asunder.
Doth not suffice for wretchedness
to have such monuments in woe,
but as its wonting shall it dress
all glory red, for us to know.
I watch their children emerging
with languid eyes and weary airs
from their fathers side weeping
to bleed in their due place unfair.
I hope for children of their thence
I fear for children their instead
host to fates made recompense
for our fates all else I dread.
Who are they, who muffled suffer,
tears of whom know slumber none,
life whom perchance silenced utter
which hath found its rest in some,
for those in whom is yet to set,
those who have not yet to feign
apathy to the breath of death
I fear have found in departing gain.
To the leaves that turn in our tide,
to the thorn that bleeds in my side,
to that angel in whom I confide,
and that demon with whom I preside
on the council of will, and decide
what all senses incessantly deride,
while the time and the life I divide
regardless of fate coincide.
To the wind that changes the season,
and changes that dawn without reason,
Hear me my people! with lucid intent
I am a scoundrel, I yearn for descent.
To indolence whose borders are wide,
to sloth and to greed your close guide,
to lust which you bed as a bride,
and the raging war from inside,
to love, loss, wounds and to pride,
as well morals in red hanging dried,
to your laws by which you abide,
yet question their purpose beside.
For the taste of mortality I did attempt,
thus fell from my throne I a discontent.
Hear me O’fallen, embrace and consent
mould me as flawed, lest I lament.
Wishful thought I O eternity thyne ,
now do regret I tasting such wine.
To heal that wound on this soul of mine
I feigned being blind to our rising sign.
Beyond horizons which were once in time
twixt fatuate virtue and vice benign,
from remnants of grace but thoughts malign
to fall this under I did not resign.
And Adam and Eve, of your legacy fine
forgive thee thy children for fates design.
Hear me thus progeny, ill fated and wronged,
in pursuit of some feeling, living I longed,
but Remember forever, from this parted sun
sans death all mortals immortals are one.
Regardless of our presiding congress
of victor man, and thoughts unbound
flagfallen is that white of progress,
viridescent hall in conquer found.
Hath O babylon eastern promise
come thou burning from yon Babel,
Hath thou aired suffice thy solace
solace for whilst thou air’d a fable.
Heed my words ye crumbling throne
thou wer’t not birthened to condone,
instead for sins of past atone
and honor wounds of wars unknown.
For nations many thrive some whither
flags of fathers rise then fall
but ye my wounded land of hither
thou wert sworn for just and all.
Embrace yet not these words but words
of better men, of bitter wisdom
as all professed else is absurd
and thoughts thus kept are kept anthems.
Pray, would it be much to hunger
for absolution, taste of clemency
Speak, for regrets tear asunder
ignorant faults from thoughtful pity.
Lo! A Wasteland we turned thou to
In legacy false, of prospect gloom
and starved hath We thy faith in few
and fewer days in an age of bloom.
To place a price is merely common
upon a life that breathes but merely.
Shan’t we not then venture keeping
our lives instead of morals sold?
Scarlet I must always turn to
scarlet of burnt summer eves,
golden flakes of passive heaves
dirt and dust which redden hue
of wine’ful taste, scent’est henna
unto’ich spake the flowers of war,
naught a reason they grew for
but which due I dub them scilla.
Drunk on fallen dew their’s yonder,
memory mine is tempt to wander
far from this sweet valley Wana
fragrant as deep scarlet henna.
Passing I must always turn to
passing suns in mournful too,
fading fragrance with each noon,
to Hearkened dark, O! come thee soon.
Of where to has trodden darling
and where hath joy trodden to,
scent no more, no more of parting
henna burning summers through.
Ever and over, at moments and then,
I ask thee with intent, choric I ‘fess.
Placid, passive, yet of most sudden,
abrogate that which I fell for then lest,
devoid of earthly delight or wanting,
I were to find ease leaving it be,
or dub then ‘morseful I past yearning,
bohemian romance, thou as well me.
When valleys shalt drown in ashes of graves,
then nothing shalt rain but virgin most blood,
Lions shalt adhere to our lambs most knave
while angels shalt mourn their wings of mud.
In placid lakes, On perturbed ripples,
carry the unliving their silenced leaves.
How oft they feared a touch of death
though oftener touched their watery grace.
No more a fragrance to this dirt,
nor left a memory in its breath,
far and further as the roaming
takes me from my tree of birth.
Ashen turns the hue each walking
step thus taken in my search,
until I fear from with that grey
shall turn the pallor of my day.
Of that which I hope with yearn
know I not the least its fate,
but do I fear too it shall turn,
I shall too fear the pale one great.