Fall From Grace

 

Floating lights behind my eyes
Thudding pain, pressurized
Wholly sick of coloured lies
Called out loud in honeyed cries

Sink ye further in the pits
Of blackened tar you did dig
Let it glue your puckered lips
Quieten your lies laid on thick

Slick with oil is your voice
But lo, black one, you made your choice
Yet there you stand and make your noise
And think you safe upon your hoist

But come a day you will know
On that day you’ll fall low
And eat the fruits of seeds you sowed
Your fall from grace will sure be slow

©Aarron Mondello
1/4/2018

 

Lost Storytellers

 

How I yearn for days or yore
A time I only know from tales
When storytellers would sit before
An audience in raptured silence

Youth to Gama’s and Gaffa’s aged
Would hear words come to life
Told with voice full of grace
Of adventure, war and glory

A time when ones imagination
Took them to worlds afar
Tellers wove for them destinations
And they rode there on captured hearts

How I yearn for those times again
That I know only from tales
When for an audience one would wend
A path through distant lands

©Aarron Mondello
31/3/2018