Iliterate Poet

A dumping ground for my works in progress.

28 Apr 2012

Toil And Trouble




Have you worn the quick to score the stick;
Broke head and tail, back all torn, for the grail;
Weathered, beaten; burning Ouroboros' wick?

Toil marked in sweat, no longer able to Tally.
Decan after Decan, imprisoned stars stick, tick;
The rowers and Thelemites locked in the galley.

Certain gallows circle as the dog-shark fades.
In nighttime fever raids every peak and valley.
Sun will rise, the frenzy shan't relent for shade.

Caballus, my trusted steed broken in a cavalcade.
When nears end she bought;  A cock was sort;
And to the cock: Another terrible lesson taught!

Love nor money could nor would hold her reigns!
She trotted and she galloped to make her trade.
Light and dark are in equidistant binding chains.

Have you worn your back and shoulders thin?
Worked like a dying dog earning your parade?
Point your chin high; who cares if you don't fit in?

What's more my Caba-friend: Living to work; Dying- 
To live, Living to die, Waiting to live, Working to live, 
Waiting to die, or living and loving to live, regardless?










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