A Scarry Night – A painting by the Author
Swell the leaves, to feel thy shine,
A charm that haunts, a yearning mind.
I wish to speak, not out of turn,
’tis only with concern for thee, I burn
My queen emerges. Complete. No clouds.
Art thou not cold, without thy shrouds?
O’ mighty tree, bless thy kind heart.
A fiery blaze, thy bloom imparts.
I have not need, for further cover.
A warm embrace, defies all weather.
Indeed, thou speak the truth my dear,
But ’tis not the frost of dusk, I fear.
The night is dark, and full of terrors,
That lurk amidst, thick smoke and mirrors.
The pure belie, such retched ways,
Yet thou must shun, their chilly gaze.
I am the moon, I have my pride.
Of wide-eyed critters, I would not hide.
I bear fine shades, they wax, they wane.
The choice is mine, thou shan’t complain
A sacred duty, thou dost not defy,
Or art thou the harlot of the sky?
Of many faults, a cloak eludes,
Repulsive pits, thy face exudes.
A traitorous gush, of true colour.
A rot betwixt, a coat of valour.
Thy fall from grace, shall be so brisk
And leaves deprived, of brilliant bliss.
(HOW DARE th… ?! *Clears throat* )
Never have I been so pissed.
A righteous rage. A cheek eclipsed.
Know thy place, thou foolish whore.
Thou pine for wood, of that I’m sure.
I have not need, for tottering twigs,
Nor have I, for peeping pigs.
In darkest night, thou shalt discover,
A life so truly, full of terror.