Profound is the Coven


Just does not emerge correctly.

What has been…

What is left to be seen!

The fallen, who have encompassed their way round unmindful feet.

Crisped, insightful, deliberate, not by their own nature, everlasting…for another’s defeat.

The seasons have rearranged.

And, lost the entitled, in winds that ravaged.

In complacency, an aloof being, would use the expression…Savage.

Profound is the coven.

The ordained by hands of another.

Another who does not speak.

Yet, awaits a vale…to peak.

Mum, are the reptiles, the flora, the fauna…

A universe of beauty under soil’s sheet.

Thus they lay, in refinement, under my obtuse feet.

Outside the Living Room Wall

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There is a haunting to this house only I know

For only I have been its witness

A collection of heirlooms too loud for the living-room wall.

Spirits in a bottle…minus a cork.

Slices of life severed with a knife.

Everyday a tour of ghastly duty…showered by the tears I cry.

An a-sexual ghost feeding off the body of the host.

The consequences?

Never just the forest or the tree.

Sometimes…they are more familiar to behind the scenes.

Just piney implants of somebody I used to know.

Enticing  trails of northern life…gone awry.

Amid what we say…

And, the truth that  we leave for another day.

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