Naughty LiL Syn's Page

His shoulders are like tabernacles...
laden mosques, forever solid
under the wait of my architectural prayer,
erected piece by piece ('bye peace)
under fading moon,
'neath watching skies,
near the core of my flailing religion;
atop sacred ground.

There -->
I've been lost, not wanting to be found,
like inlaid parables, bound;
placed inexorably by the root
of the original poet-tree, pretending
virginal postures, sweetly sinning
as he curves me in softest soliloquy
'til I am wrapped 'round his… Continue

Supposing that the relevance of time
is not tethered to the tentacles of tomorrow's whim,
that,
this thin transference of daylight to dim,
is just a reflection of evangelical thought
and not a realistic lesson, taught
in birth...
...would
it be worth your imagined years
to bleed faith dry of every, single, fear
that has overcome your dawn,
(tell me)
would I be terribly wrong for inquiring
as to the grinding halt of the sun when
the only one left laughing in this paradoxical conundrum

is, the ra… Continue