Saturday, 14 March 2009

POETRY - Customary Suits

Your eyes scrutinise wisely

My wayward wellings of woe

And question my customs of cruelty

In spearing with sadness my soul

And observing the open opulence

Of bedecking my being in black

Your pursed lips list lengthily

How my darkened dreams detract

From my pity cries of mercy

My feigned forward paths

And how can I say I suffer

If I revel in collapse

Elements ignite these half truths

And illuminate the dents

Of the curved sides and boxes

Of our empty sentiments.

P Davidson 14/03/09

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