Saturday, August 2, 2008

I read a strange this night
It made measures of the perverse of reality
Truth be told it was wise
But it wasn't the draw for me
But the comments held a wealth
From the girth of hypocrisy
Hope was appalled
What gall there was to see
To be bitten by the beast of hand
That hope had dared to feed
And the siren sang a thank you
But no wind would take it's bride
For the song that it always sung
Had been dashed against the cliffs and died