A stroke of hair
Is only enough but a share
Twilight rendezvous so fair
The only reminder – memory is the fare
Highly payed for, no dime, none to a spare
A second ago is in its essence rare.
Upon the Damsel’s Bloody cheeks
Antiquity plays the harlot
Wit’ tender a lip that its lure leaks
A thousand uncalled for hickeys – a ballot
A prize too high to nurture a vexed heart
that bows its knees in sore displeasure,
Tears shoving and rupturing like a dart
A storm-tossed face that masks a hub of grease and seizure.
Some call it a raging passion,
Buh A second ago is nothing but a sham
Buried in a fallen-like-pollen mansion,
Cast autograph engraved in the sacred museum of life, illusively floral,
Angels of woe by the gateway chanting a choral,
A stabbing reminder of temporality stuffed in shame perfectly oral..
A kind so mysterious – the four deaths endorsing the gates open to the judgement seat – one who reads all, rewards all.
A baptismal of fire – a purging of ice..
Because you see, a second ago is bloodthirst expunging the beauty of life – the hypnosis
that leaves her being in paralysis.
Question the scenery and she’ll give no answer. Because you see a second ago is a memory faded in history like the many she knows nothing of.
If only I could talk
/ And through your ears walk
/ Then you could hear the footsteps
/ Of regret echo through character mishaps
/ If I could only talk and walk , walk the talk.
/ Or could I have listened to the silence of order
/ Observed carefully and louder
/ Only then, would I not ponder
/ And sign in to read more »
Listen to them...
/ They are only an imitation
/ Buried with seclusion ..
/ You say you are normal
/ You say a lot of prayers, choral
/ You only need mercy..
/ They never told me you scatter
/ Let me not to the chambers of charter
/ And you will not my blood lick latter
/ These are denigrations of sign in to read more »
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Ntokozo A Rivombo
Johannesburg, South Africa
July 6, 2019
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