unsung variety pages

the kings are
cruel fools
unrelenting and
walking soft and round
in this tired collective
beware subtle submission
and a slave’s distractions
the dogs are honest prisoners
and the cats continue to slay
all of our shallow illusions
to forget the flesh
because it always fails
but the spirit severs bones
and flows in divine patterns
when we embrace
the slow release
of radical ravens
and hunted we weave
butterfly poetry
in the dead of night
burning social fruits
and waiting for an explosion
of glazed machine eyes
tomorrow understands
the trials of yesterday
and today is just
a random anticipation of spent dreams
as familiar liars conjure chaos
and laugh carelessly in the wind
bless our pirate breed
dancing naked and swallowed
under satirical passion
consecrated and cremated
for all to see



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