Our Collective sobs,
going unnoticed by a firing council,
park ended apartment to held the
purposed feuds,
patron urges,
and patron saints,
their ancient monarchs
and their command to sing
and sing once again.
Satyricon was a farce,
and it is important to be ernest,
and is not truth simply easier.
I live my life in the fear and
blocked haze of that of the veil,
I cry as I dream
and I cry in our days.
You cannot ask for patience reward outright,
you cannot quench upon the hot coal
of hate, or its sister city.
You cannot deprive nor strive
or strike and stride,
impale in dreary mark upon
the hour
and always, repeating,
marked upon the hour.
4/7/12
