I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
After life, death does not retain us all Beautiful was that dreamless sleep to me Cares and sorrows vanished, and I knew peace
By D. J. Reddallabout a year ago in Poets
Thorn, still skeptical After the maid and the priest Suffer gruesome deaths ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Perhaps we ought to Begin with: "We are dying. Can we live with that?"
All Hallow's Eve, and so my ride begins Before the hoi polloi fill tunnels dim Cunning as a serpent, I slither forth Determined to play where others labor
Absolution eludes me: I'm guilty Born at the behest of a clever fool Caught in a fearful form I did not choose Denied a modicum of warm kindness
You defy the dark Incandescent palimpsests Of a lost language
All of you are so eager to be seen! Before that aching need makes you go mad Consider me, a man invisible Delighting in a voyeur's adventures
Perhaps a perfect Simulation has a name: A reality
By D. J. Reddall2 years ago in Poets
Her summons used to frighten and confuse I resented her loud, silver music Now I know I was a fool to refuse I understand her language is ludic
When the answer is Silence, do not be deceived You have an answer
At a glowing glance, I recognized you Beauty is mine, ageless and abiding Countries have been slain for a taste of me Down history’s spiral stair have I walked
Some kinds of fatigue Are impervious to sleep They are of the mind
