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Cardinal Wings
Upon the Royal Din

Upon the Royal Din

No. 1

The coffee has to be black, not unlike what she thinks of her heart.

Bitter

Candy-

-medicinal assurance that paints her teeth.

Magma in her mouth, it sings a wicked smile,

And she’s beaming,

And she’s screaming inside,

And everything is a bore.

She’s bored of the monotony.

The bitterness is a balm.

~

No. 2

-if love is freely found, let it be freely shared,

Absent the possessive naturality we mortals carry,

Like nails on a board, digging into our skin,

Ply them out with help,

There’s less pain involved once everything ends-

~

No. 3

Faraway or yonder,

Mine eyes do see, upon,

And above,

Below and beneath,

Midnight and dawn, their painted shades.

The canvas sings: moonlight raves

Silver strokes across the sky:

“A muse you seek, a muse you’ll find!”

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“Look not to him, look not to her,”

“View instead the heavens firm!”

“They taste like madness, and brim with verbs!

“Assured, assured!”

“Assured, absurd!”

~

No. 4

Will unto power.

Might unto right.

Neither is sold in your everyday store.

~

No. 5

Mayhaps the teething will be our end;

The greatest of fires,

An irradiating bent.

What an end that would be,

What a finale for sure,

To melt as wax.

~

No. 6

Disrepair and corruption are not flavours of the month,

They are the dogged marrow of our bones,

Viral and unpleasantly common.

For why, for why,

Would they ever try differently, we ask,

Have asked.

The denial is simple:

They are rich and secure,

Paid tidy profits, four score-

-and seventy thousand dollars.

It’s enough to make a mind rebel.

~

No. 7

If there is madness in love, then must there be reason in hatred?

Two of a coin’s three,

A paradox presented falsely.

Our currency has more than two dimensions.

~

No. 8

Of all the seasons, I love winter best.

The cold is seeping, egress embattled,

Instincts simpering for yet another mug

Of cocoa and something extra

Packing a little bit of heat.

We’re too tired to fight,

We’re too lazy to judge.

It’s a wonderful time,

Just ignore the holiday screeching.

~

No. 9

On some level, the tipping point is past:

Our future is assured:

Destruction lies not in wait,

It’s here,

Unmoored from our foundation;

Frigid winds predicted,

Fires left untouched,

There’s a doom on the horizon,

And it tastes like obstinate refusal.

-But,

-Maybe,

-Possibly,

-However,

-Potentially,

There is hope-

~

No. 10

Forever forward,

Never back,

The past is passed.

Our future selves are smiling, can’t you see,

Dying and crying,

Living and flying on wings wrought from laughter,

In defiance of disaster!

That we are so conscious of these inevitabilities; the greatest of our-

-miracles.

-tragedies.