vineri, 18 decembrie 2015

A Sussex Cry



Anst upon a time, fate liquefied in a single reigning moon goddess
And with a lithe touch she descends upon a man -
To be his unholy wife and cog and nurt him
At every twilight, beyond the mortal fortunes of eternity,
In appleterre’s heart.
The thirteen heavens acknowledge their amost good deeds;
Concealing their clogue fabled in verses, pride and trust.
The cobbling Chaos enshrouds their nothingness,
Blessing them with rather bettermost of vices and prejudices
To be enacted all-on and amakin.
In a single timmersome verse,
Written anewst the allus,
This man’s quill abroad and anywhen:
“Bide whist! To one and all I want to say
I cry possession of the goddess moon that cropped
While I was a-bed!
The crownation will take place wunst in the weald
And will be carried out by their Heathen Holiness
The vady crust-hungry kisses!”