Vile Swine

Mid-July, when the summer got cool,
And the seraphs’ve gone cruel,
At night, at night.

Puddles dot the brown, wet street,
And how they reflect the sky.
Oh, my roamed sheets,
Oh, motherly storm that gave me lashes with her winds and waves.

Gone, had it come across your mind, to tightly hug me with your blue skin and cleanse my old grumpy grave.
Post-storm, post-storm,
Mud-covered vile swine,
Soaked in disgrace.
Beneath the grave,
Had no other thought than to long and long for the far, long-gone lover as she craves.

Mourning disgrace, it came to vilely consume the mourning slave,
Facing up at the laved sky as the maiden scratches the face of the casket against her gaunt face.
A scene unbearable, a scream,
A scream incomparable.
Cut-slit blade,
Run through me, run through me.

O shining bright white light,
Commanded I, to mildly blind the eyes of burnt chestnuts,
Light birthed by impulse.

Oh, she sent thee the crystal wave of turquoise,
Driven by the famine of love.
Oh, she sent thee the crystal wave of turquoise
To, towards, a friend of a friend, foe of a foe—
A foe, a foe, friend of a dead soul.

ABOUT

I’m a 17-year-old rock ‘n’ roll poet who was lingered near poetry and the arts at a young age by the coolest rock ‘n’ roll poets of all time, such as Patti Smith and Jim Morrison. My heart is made of stained-colored glass, and inside, I have nothing but love for the things life has to offer. My objectives in life are to work on the development of the countries of my mind, heart, and hands.