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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Emotional · #1253317
A tyrant and a siren in a crowded hall...
Take my hand and join the dance,
My love, I pray!
Come join the gauntly stilted
Courtiers who pace across
Black marble floors,
With sounds of clicking heels
Sharp bones and sinews,
Snarling jaws and long-toothed smiles
As now the ladies’
Simpering fans blow shreds of hair
All back and forth
Before unseeing eyes.

Dress thyself in velvet,
Thou, my dear,
As red as any madman’s thirst
For sour wine,
Strap on thy broken sword,
And I will pinch my hollowed cheeks,
Rouge shriveled lips,
Perfume my wasted body
With the scent of sweet temptation
and a lecherous need.
We are the perfect couple
Thou and I…

Obey and reverence here my glorious self--
The queen of subtle charms
And hidden daggers--
Rise, and let me slip my golden pendant
Round thy neck,
If it be chains, what matter, Love?
For thou shalt be my knight,
My wedded husband.
King of all
This richly dowered hell
Where pustuled subjects rush
To make a fad of every whim,
And scores of parchment beauties
Wait to lead thee in a round.

Ye painted dominoes,
Ye gilded cherubim,
Come forth and hie ye down to meet
My new-trothed lord;
O, ye my fine musicians, play!
Strike up your bloated drums
And dry-tongued reeds.
Give us a reel!
Your gutted strings by turns
Shall lead us stumbling down the hall.

Be not thou sad,
My heart! Thy prayer was riches--
I delivered all I vowed.
For thou hast bargained
Till I claimed thee
As I claim all men who strive to earn
The ignominy of the tyrant’s noose.
Thou speakst of honour, and the greater dream!

Look to me,
And me only for these gifts
Of heady power.
Think thee of nothing but today.
Thus shall thy feeble brow be crowned
With too-late wisdom.
Learned of lessons
Won by wars
Through demons’ blessings and a thirst for blood.
Concourses of the hungered
Shall take scythes and
Reap a harvest in thy empty name!
Then will I show thee by what means it is
That too-wise women turn the heads
Of  peerless men, ambitious brains.
Thy land is desolation
And thy comfort grief,
Yet are we gay!
Come join the dance, love.
Let the devil wait…
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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1253317-Thy-Palaces-of-Glass-No-More-Than-Sand