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Snips and Snails

Where lies the beauty this solemnest night
That sparkles like marbles by graceful light
That whispers sweet nothings with deepest insight
Oh, when will the beauty of passion delight?
Icarus in bronze

The somnambulist treads his well-worn path
Howling; the Minotaur of days long past
Gutteral groans from the bowels of his heart
Overwhelmed by the magnitude of each task

Come now, maniacal insomniacs
Read more poetry from your almanacs
Let us shriek at the moon like wolves in packs
And speak of their torment; their stoic attacks!

Rejoice! For arrows inherit our souls
Inflaming our history; our destiny; our goals
They burn us on stakes, our wisdom to take
Trample our graves as they destroy our grace

Yet we know the mystery of insatiable beasts
That ignite our senses combusting our heat
Take my hand, my lovely, invite me to your land
To those that understand the meaning of peace

On this dark heavy trail
With the black moon residing
Our procession meanders
None of us pandered
On the contrary!
All emotion to the core
We walk as ghosts of history
We congregate with the solemnity of humanity
A litany of misery
Sleepwalkers of viscidity
Glued together in constituent harmony

And when those Minotaurs slumber, alas
We shall take our own daggers and formulate our own attacks
The unexpected coup
From the poets and musicians that always knew
The next best to be expected
And we will henceforth remind you
The beauty beneath the moon
Is real, is true
I suspect we shall arrive when you least expect us to

For he has taken my hand
And led me to mythical lands
Thus I understand
The seductiveness of art
I have learnt the gospel of Aphrodite
Of Icarus and his lovely wings
I have discovered the excitement of a great many things
I wish everyone related to
Somewhere along the way
Life has dished a conspiracy

So where tonight lies the beauty?
In snips and snails and puppy dogs’ tails probably….

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