And regret ran down my bastard face
as never had done before,
the merry click of good times I'm my head
replaced by a clockwork of gore.
In joy arrived, in mournia left
with memories replaced by blood,
as the bait of Man will rise and seethe
to rest in a nocturnal hood.
Lay me down in dark throated connects
welcome to ministries of dread;
in praise of flesh over river highways
reckoning of hours as winter fled.
Noble night under rhythms watch
horned shadows twist like grave hounds,
a force of nature, life at end,
pierced wall of sounds...
©Steven Francis poems 2014
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