deepundergroundpoetry.com
the rise and fall of evil
between my labour and my leisure
fleecing my neighbour for my pleasure
my hands conspire to plot a strife
whereby i make a knot of life
expectantly the sun each morning
illuminates the new day dawning
but on earth’s canvas, i am bent
with evil ink its hopes to dent
a heart of stone cleaves fast my bosom
bereft of any trace of wisdom
‘tis my delight to watch men squirm
for i am but an abject worm
i am the right hand of the devil
author of conflict for my revel
the bitterer i make your fate
the happier i resonate
i cannot ply my trade much longer
for i’m not getting any younger
there’s too much love around these days
no one cares for my evil craze
i am defeated by men’s kindness
benevolence gives me night blindness
when words of faith invade my path
i am consumed by my own wrath
alas, how shall i face the sunshine
that nullifies the ills i’ve made mine
my evil days have served no purpose
i lie here, slain by hope’s grand surplus
© Copyright 2021 July 07
by Clyve A. Bowen♫
fleecing my neighbour for my pleasure
my hands conspire to plot a strife
whereby i make a knot of life
expectantly the sun each morning
illuminates the new day dawning
but on earth’s canvas, i am bent
with evil ink its hopes to dent
a heart of stone cleaves fast my bosom
bereft of any trace of wisdom
‘tis my delight to watch men squirm
for i am but an abject worm
i am the right hand of the devil
author of conflict for my revel
the bitterer i make your fate
the happier i resonate
i cannot ply my trade much longer
for i’m not getting any younger
there’s too much love around these days
no one cares for my evil craze
i am defeated by men’s kindness
benevolence gives me night blindness
when words of faith invade my path
i am consumed by my own wrath
alas, how shall i face the sunshine
that nullifies the ills i’ve made mine
my evil days have served no purpose
i lie here, slain by hope’s grand surplus
© Copyright 2021 July 07
by Clyve A. Bowen♫
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