O'ER-RAUHOT, O'ER WROUGHT
Yare my cape and crown
Draw my rope 'round
I fancy to ravin a knave
I ought to pall my particoat
'Round his temple
He shakes and quakes as so
Delation of wrangling a stallion;
He coils and whimpers
But his deeds are not met
Thine stallion shalt be fed and groomed,
Thou knave shaltn't be fed for the ages
Stomach empty, he lay,
Just as the horse do him and tis injustice
Knave! Enter thy chamber and pray on thine chapel!
Cry for thou's mercy and forgivingness!
For sinners are you!
Lies; untrue...
Abhor and thy shalt balk!
Shrift and thy ought knap you!
Rapture thine quaint and unpregnant maidens,
And slaughter their temples!
Wall-eyed they say!
Young and zany: they asecgan
Beheafdian and brucan their bodies: Dreogan-y!
For they shaltn't know what tis to foreclose!
Loatheness: I smite ruthlessly!
Dysig! I gast; lapsed
Vindictive, I lay:
Undergo a testy trigon of madness
And zany...
Eallwealda, what... do I?
Mystery! Appear my window!
Lapsed; I quiver shaking!
Waves of wind enter my chamber
Stress of my beast!
A harlot: Oh she!
Sinner! I see,
Ravin! Zany! Ravin! Knap:
I, am WALL-EYED!
It is I, ZANY!
Oh the many lords: Eallwealda! Forgive my sins!
For in my bed lay a harlot, trotting on my stallion of knight!
Heeled before me, lay: Mystery!
Mother, O! Mother, Oh!
Mystery o mother of harlots!
As fortifications they trot!
They harlots of lay in my bed
A sinner is I!
Cursed you! The damned lords!
Lords of sin! Sin I tell you!
I bask in ther mucus of milldew
And elapse my foul tongue on thers'
I commit the sin of lust, sin in MY bed
Entangled in greed and gluton;
I kuc my horse as they ride
On dawn, the day
Of Jack & Jill
The dusk lay low in eternal damnation
For I, I no spare, (my) sin!
Unjust! I tax all you!
Harlots! Maidens! Proustite!
I quake in misery: Sorrow,
Has'th come for me?
Aha! Welcome, Excalibur,
To my throne, prone on keen detailishment
And of the embroidery does tis enjoy?
I willn'st begin, the ballroom is of dust
And of dust of residue of: Remnants of pare
I rumble haste
Open taste
The gate of hell awaits me
I bask in regret
I, no king
I beith, a devil
Overcome: My sin I cannot
I dangle my cape and crown
Drag my rope 'round
Hussle my particoat
And rig below as knave
Chains on my column, limb, all 'round
Spit in my hair, and dirt cover out
More knave; In front, behind
I between, I a knave
Here as to serve, work, and sell
Sell my life source to the country
And hope-- No, pray to not be waste in purpose
- Poem I wrote last year of 2021-2022
YOU ARE READING
blvrryface (vent) poems.
Poetryexactly what the title says. [sorry ive been gone for so long]
