Poetry is Life Period

No Contrition for Blood

From where the umbrous hand doth reach
In the mist among the silent stars
to grasp within its cold conniving
my slumber upon the beasts hassock

I sleep within hungered maw
enticing famished ferality upon my crown
obsequious flesh for the abominable banquet
on the pyre, sweet aroma, sweet, lustful aroma

In the light of the burning moon
and blackened stars that harken demise
lo upon the nameless one
who laps at your miserable cries

Copyright © Ernesto Mora@ThePOEMHOME All Rights Reserved.

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