“ A Pact ” ~ with Lady Death ~

I made a pact

With Lady Death,

When I do reach

For a last breath, 

To keep at bay

Her Beelzebub,

And intercede

Till my choice deed

For carcass dear,

Finds where reside

Without he interfere…

 

Hence to decide

For up above,

Tho I am told

It’s rather cold,

I preclude not

The down below

Where it be hot,

Say cursed souls

Held sinful lot,                     

So I’ve been told

Thru pact I bade,        

With Lady Death!

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“ Frustrations ” ~ a taste of limbo ~

Said to describe

Sagacious scribes,                                              

A sorry carcass

Frustrates to contrive,

Yet means survive

To thus achieve,

The while sauces sin

And regurgitates

What he sucks in,

To satiate ones taste                                                   

By feeding every whim…                                          

  

Save frustrations

Be constant threat

To ones resolve,

With words akin

To be so wrought,                                                                              

As to be limboed      

In a dead man’s lot,

Robbed of musing light,

To write in mindful state

Of scribe’s relentless chase!