Wanderer in Circe’s cave

A crimson path led me to delusional arts,
The swing of justice hoaxed me,
As human tortured their faith in gyves
To welcome torched Justice to vacancy.
As they consider me the Eternal Jew,
They coax sooted greed to break me in?
Thinking gold-alloyed canker paint me gloom?
Alloying poisoned blood with innocence?
’Tis mystery sheathe me, echoed the cave,
Wilt tame my brains to darkling?
Reverse, thy spell portion me bruise or lustre?
I’ve arted war to ivy way home dangling.
My patience spill over your Waterhouse,
It’s more delicate feel for disallowed villain
Than elegize a gallant hero slipping in anthem,
Glorified by battles, enchanted by traitors.
Renaissance Poetry
Другие работы автора
Wuthering Heights - th’ last creak of th’ gates
Lunacy’s lucidity’s short, but inconsolable, Affiance commences peacefully and long lives. Thenceforth, I desiccate of thy return chalice. Cause old manuscripts are saved, but charred,
Wuthering Heights - memory’s an unsent letter
Arbor emptied occluded by autumn early come, Th’ stone giant’s rooted like a loner in candle spark, Door’s wheezing for mother nay listened to her wench, Th’ bench waiting for th’ nurse called long agone for lunch.