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The Razor
 

 

Consumed by ego
Driven by vanity
Plumbed to the depth
Of utter insanity
He crawls from grills
Of gutters spew
‘Neath waning moon
And acrimonial stew
Refractory spirit in
dark gilded cage
Fraught by detritus
Of ineffectual rage

Small broken lens
of yesterdays face
With fabricated chords
Of brown rustic lace

Each melody ensconced
Within acidity’s mirage
Vapors of confusion
From street to garage
Alone in a moment
Of an insidious ploy
To decimate children
Like some plastic toy

To fiddle the faddle
Beneath spurs of steel
Losing sight of convictions
How to touch, how to feel

Albeit diminished with
Times railing arm
In smoke filled taverns
In meadows and farm
The night will find you
And turn off your light
And leave you for vultures
That come circling in flight

Come nibbler of midnight
Rest here with your bones
As the razor of Balfour
Continues to hone







By Bubby

© 2010 Bubby (All rights reserved)

 

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