Lazarus Threw The Fight

The clouds of doubt that hang about in the corners of the morning
Won’t be dispelled by the pealing bells that answer the empty calling
To be held to breast in the emptiness that awaits the mind’s meander
Down seeking lane of longitude to rest on the edge of wonder

The tongues a-forked that taste the air and speak of wisdom’s tree
Don’t scare me half as much as those who seek a piece of me
Those soft approaching smiling faces that call the ego hither
Will soon attach some motive grey and cause the deal to wither

Like fruit that grows on hallowed ground but tastes of rivers bitter
Poisoned from the inside out and left the ground to litter
And there to stunt the grass that seeks to make the sun its duty
To venture forth on tracks untread and paint the world in beauty

Vampiric needs that seek to wing the mind that finds its freedom
Not in the company of wolves to dwell nor dare to stay and feed them
With scraps of bone and blood soaked bait and hearts fragile still beating
These empty rotting heads do gather crowds of meagre souls for eating

Not content to reap the harvest here already sown for freedom
from all the pits and rocks that strew the cobbled road preceding
but drag the plough into the ditch and check the horse’s teeth
then take a look right down its throat for the benefits beneath

benefits not equally shared but tilted rather toward the reaper
hacking and hacking at the form of the unsuspecting sleeper
Don’t sell me no yarn for the spinning loom of overvalued self
That feeds on trust but can’t digest the rust on my bookshelf

Don’t seek the truth nor question why if you do not wish to find bones
Of creature awful beauty beneath your overturning stones

August 2007

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