One of my poems from my ebook In Lieu of Opium:
soirée
macabre
Let's all touch goblets of nightshade and drink.
Sing
to shocked moons hung with bad poetry.
We're
already ghosts, don't dread All Soul's Night.
Why
argue the treats tricking from great delusions?
Lock
arms with lucky imps and skate on thin ice,
where
winds catch throes of all peevish caution.
Mingle
and mix and dance if you can.
If
you can't then dance more furiously!
Dash
pocket watches down on gravestones.
Bother
and startle and wake timeless sleepers.
Everything
trembles with uncertain waiting.
We're
already dead and don't even know it.
Float
on this night like moods of old martyrs.
Fill
up your goblets till fear staggers laughing!
Once
each year, it's good to drink nightmares
and
scream at the bones beneath our strange skin.
A ghost may come;
ReplyDeleteFor it is a ghost’s right,
His element is so fine
Being sharpened by his death,
To drink from the wine-breath
While our gross palates drink from the whole wine.
--Yeats
That’s a groovy thing from Yeats and from you.
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