Here lies
a liar,
Lying quietly,
pants afire;
A lie-deployer
heretofore,
And now a
stoic lier.
Welcome, those few
who've inquired.
No more turns of
phrase required.
Here lies
a liar,
Lying quietly,
pants afire;
A lie-deployer
heretofore,
And now a
stoic lier.
Welcome, those few
who've inquired.
No more turns of
phrase required.
I find myself pacing
around the room once again,
Certain there must be some way
to somehow re-begin.
My reasoning, though,
has come to grow
quite pale and thin,
I conclude,
now quite removed
from madding crowds and dins.
Let the first stone-thrower then
be without sin,
And let me pace and pace
and pace, then amend.
A widening gyre,
you say?
And why does this
leave you dismayed?
I notice there
your hair's gone gray,
and your youthful smirk
has sunk away.
Yet you tersely pace
and turn and sway,
and grit your teeth
till white chunks spray,
all for things
you've been relayed,
events over which
you have no say.
Bring that falcon
on this way!
Let me watch its
spiral decay!
Sit with me
and spend the day
watching end times,
once more, delayed.