Blessed be cathartic stumbling . . .

Blessed be cathartic stumbling, disfigured moments marred in foresight
Elicit acts of random night that mend fraught wrongs and make them right
If time is held in secrecy the past is just a lie, you see?
Academic history is writ by winner’s boasting forgery

Combat half-truths that lack a certain moral objectivity
Change your favorite food to love, your colors to equality
Above all else, let go the past – that demon charm that doth possess
To some degree, so subtlety, the ancient laws we now confess

Perhaps t’would be a safer bet, in youth, to never take a stance
But in the end when looking back, who wants to say “I took no chance”?
Carpe Diem! This life is yours! Go seize the day! Go knock down doors!
If we, the present, don’t explore we’ll leave our future bleeding poor

Baroque such shimmering details spell, the decadence of Scriptured Hell
Stoked battles waged the fires tell, the embers smoldering ne’er be quelled
Encroaching fog ensconcing souls in putrid pusillanimity
Shed clean the cowardice garment ream and don the cloak of valiancy

If memories serve they’ll rightly show the seasons lost while reading Rimbaud
Wild beasts reduced to joyless throws and played fine tricks on maddened fellows
Pensive Autumn! Bring the Spring! And once again cast forth the rain
Renewing my deformities, replenishing my parchment plain

Derision now my fate at last, for fat rump Flemish Fifers fall
And split their lips among the thralls of Cabaret show curtain calls
Hallucinations pave the way for superstitious daze in shade
As paper cuts splice pledges made, I shred my time with razor blades

Yet lucky so to be alive and grateful still to be so free
If playing tennis with our love advantage one would go to me
And in the twilight of lost gods – disastrous – I see that how
The potion of our heart’s pretense hath made us swear valkyrien vows

Afford me but a parting kiss upon the brow and leave me bitter
The alchemists I’ve long resisted concoct the gift that must deliver
Me from you and you from me oh love is death and death a dream
But wake me not! This tempest scheme delivers more than what may seem

Love plays out not the way man planned – a clever ruse, a slight of hand
As flames of death’s assurance are fanned (the blaze which one cannot remand)
Pure love above all cannot fail though death pose some obscurity
I’m free to love while I still breathe and ask you . . . who can best me?