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Nero
I pass the faces in my mind, not sure what they are saying.
I read the concern in their eyes, not sure what it’s conveying.
I turn, in kind, from this palace of archaic conviction,
To exercise what I have won by mere right of affliction.
The memories but ridicule, their echoes seem to follow
A vision bade to glean some strength from a feeling most hollow.
Drawing the fuel of my disease, precursor to the pyre;
I watch, at length, the escapade of my Rome set to fire!
Maniacal laughter offset, as if pinned to the riddle;
From center stage, upon the dais, placing bow to fiddle…
A rivulet of musical emotion flows out through me—
Sets in one day of maddened rage the legacy that’s due me.
An emperor’s abandoned throne, lesson enough for learning:
By passions blind, dare not be led past the point of discerning.
But stand alone, while Time obscures any hope of a hero,
And count the dead dreams disinclined to this modern day Nero.
The standard set, I bow my head—will take my leave come morning.
Beyond the smoke, a harried sun arising without warning.
The gauntlet shed, I’ll not forget the path from which I’ve wandered;
The hopes undone within this broken life that I have squandered.
Though History must write my name somewhere amidst the ashes,
For all to see across the skies each time her lightning flashes;
The weight of shame, indiscreetly, will tally less than zero
‘Pon vacant eyes that still mark me something akin to Nero.
Michael Anderson
Published 23rd Jun 2015
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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24th Jun 2015 3:58am
25th Jun 2015 00:49am
24th Jun 2015 7:51am
Those vacant eyes were prolly the ones known fer.."fiddling while Rome burned" or close to.
squeaked smirks*
"The standard set, I bow my head—will take my leave come morning.
Beyond the smoke, a harried sun arising without warning."
~always some foreshadow of a random decent
brite spot hidden 'midst all else..almst ur "desired faux paux," not seen 'til reread..then?
"Bam!!" <~ *then it's there. remember this one &
I just soaked lotts more out of it..even so sleepy! stoppit er I really shall lick ur brain.
You could alwyz bleed a stone w/the mere
presence of ur writing, my hunny & I still
wanna rub away somber anythings.
everloves babe
~vera sleepy T
squeaked smirks*
"The standard set, I bow my head—will take my leave come morning.
Beyond the smoke, a harried sun arising without warning."
~always some foreshadow of a random decent
brite spot hidden 'midst all else..almst ur "desired faux paux," not seen 'til reread..then?
"Bam!!" <~ *then it's there. remember this one &
I just soaked lotts more out of it..even so sleepy! stoppit er I really shall lick ur brain.
You could alwyz bleed a stone w/the mere
presence of ur writing, my hunny & I still
wanna rub away somber anythings.
everloves babe
~vera sleepy T
Those are the very same eyes I am sure at times, love. There's a ton beneath the surface of this one as well. Baby's talking about lickings and rubbings, though... mayhap we talk poetry a lil later. ;)
love ya, sweets
love ya, sweets
