WL Schuett

The Tempest

for love and faith sorrow glides 

on a mourning flame of guilt 

within the reach of echoes past 

a mirror of shame is built 

restless in that ornery shade 

of beauty tricks of mist 

beer tops fly to bring about 

the savage strength to exist 

someplace in this universe 

a warrior tramp explains 

that each and every one of us 

has the obligation to complain 

with voices loud enough to break 

that neon haze of novel hate 

chapters written so long ago 

but, still it seems too late 

to stumble into the gutter 

of a manic dream that hides 

behind the blue lit mountains 

with temporal rising tides 

but after wails of acid pools 

where a lonely child cries 

into the mercury of morality 

that chants its ugly lies 

with vows of faith a book that ends 

with a world torn apart 

but read the pages where words 

of love are written for the heart 

here four angels stand ready looking 

past the four corners of the earth 

upon pure white horses where 

despair is braver than what it\'s worth 

a violent storm of vibrant sorrow 

shot through by fates long bow 

quenched by torrential rains 

brought forth by a lost and broken rainbow