The Devil You Say
The Devil is a chainsmoker
Rolling up bales full of lies
Between the leaves of shady papers
In the lenses of his camera eyes
Tilted, warped calypso dancers weave
Aperture patterns on inverse puzzles overlap
There are images and visions of abhorrence
Hot, scalding screaming torrents squirming
Through the brimstone columns
Of an infinite gap
Shudders brushing cheeks
Like the caresses from ghostly fingers
Baby books are strung from wire to write
Just a little strike to make Night ignite
Between the leaves of shady papers
Rolling up bales full of lies
The Devil is a chainsmoker .
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 705 times
Written on 2019-12-10 at 20:32
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