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deepundergroundpoetry.com
A Stormy Soliloquy
The dead of night thieves verses from my mind;
I wonder If I will recapture them;
The stormy sky's soliloquy's inclined
To squash my sexless stanzas and my phlegm;
Lightning must burn my least exquisite cant,
Destroying lust free synonyms to score
The page where rhythm fails, while the harsh slant
Of pitch-black rain drowns each weak metaphor;
Tenebrous abstinence, moon-bowed, soon strips
Flaky erotica and precious art,
Of beauty, as despondency just flips
My fucked-up dreams deep into murk; I start
To tear the rancid remnants, quite bereft
Of fragile, eclipsed nothings after theft.
I wonder If I will recapture them;
The stormy sky's soliloquy's inclined
To squash my sexless stanzas and my phlegm;
Lightning must burn my least exquisite cant,
Destroying lust free synonyms to score
The page where rhythm fails, while the harsh slant
Of pitch-black rain drowns each weak metaphor;
Tenebrous abstinence, moon-bowed, soon strips
Flaky erotica and precious art,
Of beauty, as despondency just flips
My fucked-up dreams deep into murk; I start
To tear the rancid remnants, quite bereft
Of fragile, eclipsed nothings after theft.
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