revel in the misery
of former dotted vistas
now reduced
to ashy monoliths
of inconsequence

softly scale
the scabbed over wounds
of salient sentience
in search for sanity
in sequential sonnets

unravel the tangled nests
of neolithic nonbelief
while capturing
the clumsy grace
of hope ripped asunder

onward ho
in search of the last bastion
of good faith
in the dusty halls
of historical inaccuracies

swept under
the threadbare rug
like a crumb off the crust
from the first pie
with fruit of the tree of woe

a bitter pill
with cobwebbed courtesy
found in the rubbish bin
of good intention’s
half hearted soliloquies


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