Elizabeth and her Autumn End
Date: Nov 20th, 2006 4:14:24 am - Subscribe
Mood: terrible
A funeral arrives with tears and rehersal.
Why, oh why does life cheat the most beautiful?
However calm the princess be,
she must have broken her delicate neck.
The wind whines about the corpse in a way,
still no birds chime at this hour of day.
lifting corners of white lace revealing slender legs
- sometimes more to the family's dismay...
she hangs gently.
As passerbys paint crosses on their chests.
Her blasphemous fingers brought her death,
such is a sin, to still one's breath!
Her heaven is barred, as the gospel says.
The townfolk weed their way among the oak.
Top hats and long coats hang on tired bones,
all chilled by this unholiest of autumns,
wind licking at their toes.
Stone faces weep and snarl where droplettes cling
the final eyes in which she confided in.
Granite monsters above everything.
The tumultuous twilight is split by a raven's caw
money lenders and machine makers made to look on
torn from their beds at a lantern boy's call
they found a young vixen .
She must have broken her delicate neck.
A book is strewn wayward, landing angry in the mud,
as a pastor whispers holy things.
His wavering voice doing battle with the wind.
A ragged yell escapes a carpenter,
who was the father.
The people mumbled onward
hate poured generously into fricative words
wondering who's daughter, when,
and why the hearse was running late.
A boy expects a funeral,
tomorrow if weather permitting.
the cold permeating his cotton,
invading his train of thinking.
Removed from his carrot soup,
when all of this occured.
Quite fitting, the cold now upon him.
An icey blast just as within him,
when he raped and killed his sister.
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