Kenneth, loves satire and writings to spotlight others, but he also has an "addiction" so to speak, to dramatic and abstract/prose poetry.
Endless dreamed schemes and useless paper scenes
Will adorn these dark, lonesome, ivy hall.
Talking alone from perched a liar of moonbeams
Laughing with himself--having a solo's ball.
Flying with wishful wings
Of spider's few and wizard's rings.
She begged during hysterical screams
Laughing at him in her dark prisoned dreams.
Every thing in a line crying to walls of darkness mine
Wind ne'er howls and criminal knows she's thine.
Her teams of harmonies lifted winged angels sigh
Whispering to fairness shy--why live? Why die?
Door ajar and crickets not far
Taking a crumb creepily sneaks away.
An endless moaning, flimsy railing
Telling of birth and shudders failing.
She grasps a rusty nail latch
Spies a spider's egg to muffle hatch.
A poison she never had to match
Storm cellar, sod of land, roof of thatch.
Golden hierarchy of angels sing in perfect tone
Ringing 'round those perfect bones.
Smiling secretly--chasing vague promises
Embraces lost lover she faces.
Lace, space, and eyelash renewed
Silken guilt a vow reheld.
Her hands ne'er trembled in the dew
Now she's born once . . .
Lived in truth . . .
Giving herself to Eternity.
The Inside Text . . .
"A troubled soul, a properly-raised young princess,
but never knew her true place in life. That was until . . .a beggar man with lifted pride sat down, took her eyes for his, and shared the words above. The words of comfort that only he knew."
© 2018 Kenneth Avery