"For me, be you thoughten
That I came with no ill intent; for to me
The very doors and windows savour vilely.
Fare thee well. Thou art a piece of virtue, and
I doubt not but thy training hath been noble.
Hold, here's more gold for thee.
A curse upon him, die he like a thief,
That robs thee of thy goodness! If thou dost
Hear from me, it shall be for thy good."
Life is war and actions therein ooze some fortune feet
A monotonous thing seeming not circlic, as flat afore the discovery earth's round with vague irregularities
By the arms that make men live, shall on some scale bear good fortune
Be breeds of evil dreams that darken other souls and spirits through the truth;
I have dreamt dreams that have troubled my spirit so
To wake in the mid of fleeced fold filled with wicked gourde and good gnomes of cold golds
And in some cheating labels and they rejoice, though by learning nay I be wise Feigned and fallen, feebled and cursed by dying and gasping the tip of their white tanks of wine
To the skankings of their wishes and wicked laughter and their sprinklings of criers' lucre,
Crazy monument and the sibilance's reverberation release lone bloody track
Stitching my spirit back to the seers' sayings and all that that have been haunting my mind age after age so
Their don'ts and do's and the consequences by drazelers parts:
Ladies: raven-dovish and vipers and venoms the semblance quiet queens and sisters' sermons
A bed for sex a lot like legal thieves enough for pa to will the grace to
But a very landscape of arid meadows for hurt widows
Closed for being planted that had plummeted bloods of innocent souls
And the way out be that jammy as ''no manic rush towards the blade that could cut seen before birth no more son
Son, aide you not the path damnation but that itchy-titchy thoroughfare that lies opposite horizontal''.
©2015
