Tag: spainish

// poem dedicated to John Milton (1608-1674)

The Tower was high,

The Beast was low,

So many cases and hexes,

Sometimes its hard to reap what you sow…

The love in my soul burns,

Yet temptations often take a turn,

A scorned falling from grace,

gotta keep riding, can’t stay in one place…

The devil was in the tower above,

I saw Aces and Magickians burning in desire,

Fighting this beef out in the street,

I had to kill something they needed to eat….

Take the cattle with the cows,

Killing them softly wondering how,

Serving them straight off my gun,

From the nightly shadows with Demons they run…..

A dagger twists in blood and ice,

curses to Sheva in another sacrifice,

These images painted upon my soul,

not ever quite in love but just an endless fold,

It was in these shadows,

I found these jems,

The strangers made lines,

The shadows twisted together with time.