The Sovereign Worth Blues


Meeting our minds
in the grips
of our check-mates

we heat & pawn
‘pon the royal dawn:

& yer a makeshift minx
on a bold magnum

You’re a snake of song
by the rule
of a peeling end

(as God as my witness
 I’m a careless whisper
 smoking rain…
 an old punch-drunk love
 through a trippin’ holler)…

a mad lust
like earwigs
in strawberry flesh,
the bugs on my tongue
are a-screamin’ lunch…

hungry angels
pushin’ for daisies
on pussy willow days

~as a dauntless gauntlet
  driveth it home~

where these wild green haunts
are MY-GODS on the wind
as your quickened Sun
cums a graveling run,

a crimson-eyed
with the blaze
of our BIG sky

yawns ever.keen to fish
from your emerald cliff
more salt than wise,

the meat on my loins
are a-flowerin' fire
through the abandoned
that scrapes for change
on the challenged Way.

(Skin & mind
 naught but night-ed
 ~grip & torch).

We meet & sing
of neither king nor queen.

We’re an uphill run
to these sheltering storms
of a wary rage that numbs with age.

The horrors of our souls
are a fated pain.

Those angry angels
crushing with rain
on the reddest of days

when we heat & prawn
upon freedom’s song.

Written by ButcherScraps (Belial)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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