Tuesday, July 26, 2011


Poem by Marc Aupiais

Shadows play at the ceiling,
Of this, my grave,
Below a Parish, leaning!

Dark and grey,
Such is life,
You, my love, I despise!

And there you stand,
My crypt-a-night!
Oh! Those eyes,
I dare not look,
Fury, Medusa,
You turn me!
Into stone!
I broken, almost,
My Skeleton of morals: Bones!

I dare not look,
Your beauty,
Turns me into stone!
Your hair,
Wavy, curly hair,
Blackest Black,
Cryptic pharoah-ess!
Mummy of my past!

I dare not look,
I focus on my hate!

In this crypt,
This shallow grave!

I think of my futures past!
What I once hoped! Would be to last!

Shadows fold upon themselves!
I stand upon my cryptic stave,
Firm I must be,

What I do, I must do my best,
This I hold,
To stave you away!
And the temptations,
Of Futures Past!

No comments:

Post a Comment

No spam, junk, hate-speech, or anti-religion stuff, thank you. Also no libel, or defamation of character. Keep it clean, keep it honest. No trolling. Keep to the point. We look forward to your comments!