Is or Not to Is

By Trish Veal

Tongue fails to fly like a white dove

Night brings all troubles into light

To dance upon my mind

A corpse beyond decay just ashen bone

Flashing embers

Words dipped in hemoglobin

Crimson glowing plasma

Spewing thick amber poison

Fostering noble ill will

Toward cement and steel castles

Hippocratic Oath takers

Sepulcher asphyxiating all

Longing for a new Jeffersonian era

While waiting upon a proper kingdom

The undergrowth spills out my mouth

Vexation of a lengthy tenancy now insolvent

A write off for his Lordship's Empress

Embalmed beyond one's depth

In a primal despondency

Languishing in heartache

A plethora of familiar evil demons

Laughing as I lament the departure

Rejecting its finality

The thicket of chaos

That has overgrown life in thorns

I cannot grovel

Willingly sodomized

Lacking the desire to fight



Vilification blasts forth from lips

To the running water

Of a bathroom faucet

Rare a dove's cry

Soft wings flutter

Buried in a pillow

Lost floating feathers

Plucked before the goose is cooked

Defiled maid

Wheedling honeyed condolences

Belittling my endearment

Soaring over the cliff

As God's glorious rays

Stream through the clouds

To the shallow grave below

Wings broken

Tucked in by the abuse

Lofty reasoning's misunderstood

Keeping off the edge

Teeth chew the cud

There is no peace