An Order of Decay.

The morning sings a song of sadness
As the chaos of the day becomes an order of decay.
Each second loosing prestige unto the next
Each future deluding itself to mimic the past.
Look – Stare into the looking glass
What do you see? Aging skin, smoked yellow teeth
You’ve grown fat on whiskey boy.
Still, it is no sin to swim the waters of indulgence.

All senses overwhelmed,
From chaotic earth the vine has stemmed
We are left suckling pigs
Dancing Dionysian rhythms in mountain top abodes.
Here below the crimson sky
We erect our temple within the movement of the dance.
Demented glares abstracting stars
Receiving transmitions – evolving within transmutations.

To Gold! To gold! The secret told.
Forever young and never old.
Come dance the dance divine
Come be suckling upon the vine.

poem by David Lacey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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