OF THE GARDEN(AND OF PEACE, LOVE, AND WAR)
My garden is not a fountain of youth
But a cesspool of decaying roses, rotten
Like rosemary’s bittersweet remembrance
Comes the tingling of pungent herbal essence
For loneliness is a dirty word
Coloured by the pangs of despised love
A wretched blade cuts deep into flesh
And the rusted iron wrecks the fresh blood, preserved
cased in death, like a vipers’ laced fangs act
as a kiss of oblivious oblivion,
which condemns the unwary to become unwitting
the unworthy to become unwealthy
the unforgiven and the unforgotten
What hour is it, a moment in our million years
a flicker in an ocean of stars, bright lights
dimmed by mortal eyes, like shades pulled
over curtains of ignorance, the child chooses to not know
the green eyes cast shadows of doubt,
known but not recognized
Here is deceptions’ two pathed face, mirrored Janus
to the left I see death, she’s calling my name
my fair lady, from whence she came
to the right I see my sentence, my new home, a prison my heart bears all alone
This is my crime, my dear calypso
exiled by Hecuba, bitten by frozen terror
Marked by fired irons burns, sizzle, scarred
branded a fool, shaped by the kiln, heated desire
fire rages on, showing no hesitation, granting no pardons of mercy
As a whispered dream echoes for an eternity
the victim’s scream reverberates endlessly
deep into the very soul of the perp’s melody
until both form the greatest sound and symphony
they play together in perfect harmony
like miracle and tragedy
and history and destiny.
My life is not a celebration, but the prelude
to my requiem’s sweet remittance
that devolves the legged beasts
who haunt those petals, and the leaves
For happiness in a hollow world
bears fruits of molten magma marked
the spark that brings down life
subverts it, dragging us to our knees
with heads bowed, pews filled, and torches lit
the prayer is uttered, while others, others suffer
That is the faulty fraught fraud
so comes the hopeless dark
for all is fair in love and war
all’s fair until it’s not.
