buncombe

I pray for the soul that doesn’t sleep tonight
For great great superman struck by a kryptonite
The prisoner of dreams lost his sight
Even the devil, so St. Michael loses fight


Effulgent candle melted in the dark
Still remaining its hope in spark
The minstrel of nightingale receded with the wind
In this dark empty room, cold breeze exsiccated my skin


An exultant life to a clown sees none
Dejection deluded him; all he does is to frown
It would just take a single note for a song
The better it would be when everything’s wrong


Down by the system of sophistication
I was lamented by my own elocution
Was moved by my flatulence over sobriety
Got nothing to do but to desists this cacophony


Whether I like it or not, I’m still cloddish
In this realm of fantasy, an apish
Being a fan of Old Nick is a buffoonery
And there’s no other way to live, just be a floozy


A CASUIST- I wish I could be
So there would be no more room for malarkey
To demarcate is what I always do
‘cause in this bughouse I am a flaneur


The lucky he is, an ignoramus
For a scatty loon, ill-fated, feed like a goose
Closes his eyes, may have a confab with Morpheus
And for you my friend, meet me in calaboose.