Poets of the Shadows
Peripatetic waters a volatile knife
Prodigy of violent words
Poetry of silk madness
Caustic like a mad river
Rimbaud shelters the tragic
A night of hallucinations
Dark fame like a snake
No respite for Verlaine
Some deny the dark paths
Some act like fields of lilies
We are the satyr man
We are the sphinx of deserts
Split and gnarled with thorns
Wrestling with lions of lust
Some embrace the edge
Dark cloaks thick eye make up
Joyce cryptic as a Gaelic cemetery
New language rises from the crucible
War shatters lilies of the enlightenment
Nietzsche dark as post modernism
Welcome to the coming inquisition
Orwell and Huxley tell us of utopia
Poets without rhymes on steeds of chaos
Steppenwolf unravels Siddartha
Heroes become dusky paint
Easel of vociferous talent
Other sides of human night
Red moons lost in prose
Baudelaire and a salacious whore
The works of Poe in French
Sarte inspired by dank streetlamps
Mortality of the avant-garde
Poets of the shadows croon
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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