Test
Grips of savages rage under lids As breaths remain constant, yet weak Unyielding thrones in palaces of strife Chap and Chafe buttocks young and old Movements too slow as time ticks away Certain doom approaching from the clouded gates Silently stepping as quills continue leping As horrored looks raised to innocent parchments Strained demon’s fire, bleeding in strife Adulteress Letter hoped placed within those flames Yet fictions effort placed only in grief Bellowing signals of man’s naught achieve A half and three precious motions of the stub Holy time wrapped in a shroud Now lay burnt to asp in dawn’s new dew While the pounding of drums shall awaken you. Now to sit among scholars and saints to be And motions of the hands over converts of the sea And to shiver over plane papyrus to say the lest I wish I had been more prepared for this ungodly test.July 3 2001, Written March 1st, 2002 © on Mar 01 2002 06:10 AM PST 0 • 1
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"Grips of savages rage under lids ..."