The Devil in Dixie Land

 

The signs of squalor which breed such despair,

Burn the lights beyond all repair.

Like dreams that end yet never do start,

Lest promise deliverance when from the mind they depart.

The gray-eyed dawn brings front the new day,

And pushes father night back farther from her way.

With the morning dove; transparent, she sings:

“I rage all the night, yet resent what it brings.”

Taken back with fury and caged with fatigue,

She feigns her life novel to stifle the seas leagues.

Waiting ears find only deaf words,

From the watchful mistress who is doomed not to be heard.

Morning eyes frosted for apprehension of a new day,

In fear of the utterances the fresh sun might relay.

With the morning dove; transparent, she sings:

“I rage all the night, yet envy what it brings.”

When dawn does rise with the east set ablaze,

The pacific retreats; the golden hills but a gaze.

The crescent draws in releasing the dreams,

Of sinners and deviants who act not as they seem,

Yet wield words and quips disguised green as earth,

But vengeful, beat red and abandon from birth.

With the morning dove; transparent, she sings:

“I rage all the night, yet accept what it brings.”

By heaven, by hell, by god himself I will be

But st. peter declined for the devil be me.

Reviews

[Leah Elisabeth]

This is pretty interesting. You have a way with words and rhythm.