An Ancient Lullaby

I wrote this poem four or five years ago.  I was, shall we say, a tad peeved when I wrote it.  Obviously, I never did act upon my desire for revenge.  I let karma work everything out.  Plus, writing about evil deeds is so much more fun than acting them out because in fiction you can maim the individual not just one time, but over and over, and in various fashions, without ever ruining your nails or going to jail.  Not that I have nails to ruin.  But if I did, maintaining my perfect nails would definitely be a perk.

An Ancient Lullaby

The righteous path was never;
Septic blade
Pierced your side.
The pretty pose delivered
Fixed a burn within, the fuel
To steal a life and set things right,
An ancient lullaby.

Your buried wrath unfolds;
Dismiss your fears,
Blind your eyes.
The martyr will raze
All blood and bones and lies.
You sigh triumphant,
An ancient lullaby.

The deepest pockets of earth
Cannot hold
Your savage cries.
The remnants of sorrow take flight,
Caustic tears sting your eyes.
The betrayed now requited.
An ancient lullaby.

Nebulous Veneer

An old poem of mine I just stumbled across.  Seems fitting.

When the winter of your soul refuses to thaw as sunglow graces the breadth of the sky

And your supple lips have no strength to smile though radiant embers illuminate your face,

Be still and remember:  the brilliant rays of light obscure.

The moon dresses in shades of gray and stars hide their incandescence,

But against the blackened somber night, the veiled emerges and comes to life.

So sink softly into those languid days and unearth your masked luminosity.

A warm breath will soon melt your frosted soul.