SEA OF LAMENTS

Awash in the rays of the dying sun,
Like Apollo himself had placed a gun
Against his head, cocked the hammer
And eat the bullet for his foul grammar.
Jumbled poetic words lash the ears
Of all who have listened through the years.
Mixing thoughts until the grave
As he washed away upon the waves.

By the lycan night and winter delights,
The man with the sickle moon cast in the light,
Spawning randomly inside her thoughts
As she relives all those past haunts.
The vampiric fever burning in the weavers
Casting imbued silver nettings over the givers
Of necromantic rites within the gloom,
The smell of rotten bodies fill the room.

She looked upon the Father and seen a god
Standing tall, holding aloft his lightning rod.
He reads incantations from the tattered tome,
Set upon his spire made of bone.

A god out of reach of my mortal hands,
He likened to Apollo, more than a man.
Reading words of rhyming reason sent
Rolling gently on a sea of laments.

She gently sighs while candles burn the night,
His godly likeness seared behind her eyes.
Moistened fingers probing heatedly
Appeasing fantasies, eagerly.
His holy visions in her every season
Sets fire to her mind, nightly teasings.
When she’s locked behind doors,
Can no one hear her cried under the floor?

A midnight visit set her blood to flame,
Here stands the man, full of fame.
Promising her secret little delights
Beyond all others sights.

My head on his chest, he whispers
That he must leave us with the vespers.
One joyous night of sighs that were rent
Rolling gently on the sea of broken laments.

On those lonely nights beyond the light
Of the morning the godly man took flight.
Sweet songs turned to blowing dust
Or just like blood set to rust.
She thinks of the night she was used,
Juicy wincing when he lit her fuse.
He left after he load was spent,
Tossing violently on the sea of laments.