A sullen muse dances the blues
For those who care to know
Degradation is key to a better show.
Hues from the mantra of heaven
Chant of the dirge below
Nymph feet dust up ash and snow.
They found her secrets locked away
In the spitting cold soul
Of a regular old rebel joe
Scribblings of a scribe-suspended jive
Keeps the cat whole
Maintains self control
Worships rhythmic scrapes
Upon his scratching pole
YOU ARE READING
Disintegration of the Muse
PoetryTrying to show my more serious side I suppose. I've written many poems over the years, thought it would be fun to share.
