Sunday, January 17, 2010

Mynd Letter (draft #3)

In mynd's eye there's this letter I mean to send
but heaven forfeits whoever it forbids
and since writing is not a sin
this bloody letter,
iron rich the rise of society,
is mailed if in word alone is mailed.

Changing rules and dressed up names
everything's still the same
commonality maimed or made lame
and after wringing capital paragraphs to thunderous applause
we all clap and jingle our change.

Dapper dressed they walk in unison swinging their canes
dipping quills in pitch black ink wells
winding our lives away.
Splendor's reckoning comes as a heart wind terrible to behold
and we cease to feel the wisps of wind that soft
dance across your face on a hot summer's day.

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