-- This was improvised, I didn\'t really invest as much time as I should have to make this poem worth reading --
Illustrating his hollow eyes
By the whirlpool of shifting black,
The Caduceus hue resides
In the clippings of his back;
Eternal boy, cast to the Sun
Genuflects to nothing but air;
Artificial light as his Son,
Breathing parched heat from Dawn’s young pipe;
Sylvan’s are squeezed at the low waist
And, typically, time causes a rouse
From either side of the Jade waste;
He squeals to the red and white rose,
With a thousand eyes glaring back,
Where the secrets he would find
Whisper in wanton tears of black
‘Time has no end, but a child’s mind,
Your life stems from mortality
For you have never grown or aged;
Though sound in all it’s clarity
Has not yet sieged, only waged
Tin lice, bouncing from action’s thought
From your scalp: seeking all stuck life
And ebbs useless offerings brought
By that hiding boy playing strife —
Understanding doesn’t withstand
Without laws of man’s natured eye,
Evolved his grey platter to land,
These laws are Faith, sense and cruel love
The bindings of the truth as lie,
Maturity’s seed is boredom,
So time, a reposed symphony
Pressured by winds of disbelief,
— Opposition is harmony
And the scourger of all relief
Bide the law you ordained yourself
In infancy, the infinite self’
Dionsyus placed a palm on his shoulder,
And to in May, his beauty grew no older;
But lying in the hand of his wrinkled palm
Was birth’s inscription, his mother’s severed Pslam!