Anthology of Verse (Hard-copy) 13. #0748

in poetry •  10 months ago

--He sat amid the fragrant cloud
and dreamed a dream that told
that all he'd learned and all he'd earned
was fever to be sold.
A fisted gut, intensity
no relaxation near.
A curse, a tempered malady
no living need so dear.
He drank, he smoked, until
he thought he'd quenched his fire
But always like an acid pill
he circles lower never higher.
When day is done and night
has closed upon this verse,
that tells of him whose light
is dimmed by written curse
then, he shall sleep a time
and relax in spite of
intense visionary climb
that circles in and out of love.
< Simon.T. >

''Cleanliness Is Next To Godliness.''

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--May the blessings be.