Dr. Phise, that Vamp with Zeal, Mercy is Yesterday forever…

he said you were a gripping salesman,
a pier a’spinning quick, can make
a vortex out of this and anything is fuel
but gutter snipes are best than he,
and best that we lay down to share;
the starry night is full of lies, the likes
of which make novelties and trotters
like a snails lick

it wasn’t me that wasn’t you and heard that it was
quite a dream, of filled with glory kicks and stories
butter up that bastard truth – and kill it in the middle;
at the pike – that center filled with coliseums pulse
and thuds, crash and bangs, boom boom glory
troglodytes make goons look like a little fairy
it wasn’t half a truth be known, but sadness
bears the color of tide, that’s blackest at dawn
and lighted up at sunsets, and nothing meant
before your judge, you’re beat by half of a brain’s
like mud, and you ‘a swarthing Jeckyl’ – laughing
bastard naught a sign of wit or masters, chained
to life, and apron threads

poets should be given mercy, mercy on the lake
mercy in the shade of trees, and nothing on the top
of thee

glory, glory, gloria

heaven to hosanna, rhymes with me in tongues so sweet
I loved you once my Anna…