Sunday, April 12, 2009

Brought to You by the Letter "S"

I'm eeking out a sibilant subsistence
A transient I am
Between scepter and sepulchre
The spectre-like hissing
Swirls mid the blissing
That beckons.
The one sounding sweet
With scents of freshly washed feet,
The other, sour, but what power!
Succinctly said...
I'm stuck twixt the quick and the dead.
I much prefer rock
And righteousness
And redemption.
I wish, Oh! how I wish,
I'd learned to roll my "R"s.

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