constructions fail in potash patches
unconsciousness strikes the poet’s ashes
when shards below in an ancient jar
scream in vain beneath our planet’s star
confused, de-clutched, a muddled force
as bane triads ride Zeus's horse
to break the trend of human dust
within the chains of slavery’s rust
drops of blood cover engraven baskets
a burst of raindrops fermenting caskets
releasing trepidations of searing drought
as wily Baucus drinks a glass of stout
and pawns will hide in blackened forests
seeking Dante’s keys to Virgil’s courses
as journeys into that dark domain
reveal shadows when only ghosts remain
believing dead scrolls of blackened seas
in secret caves of parchment sleaves
bring sufferings and clashes, nothing left
but holy fear and ears gone deaf
suffocating sands of tar-oil prints
burn the flesh with vain intents
creating slaves without forethought
unconscious of the hangman's knot
over mountains and hills I awake
to hear the songs of a hidden lake
that simple lonesome pain to bear
to count remains with morbid stare
but shards of past cut deep and vast
as ships go by with broken mast
and we fail the future, ignore the past
and end up standing in line, the last
