~   Hiya Alien... 

I too, have only 1 attempt at Glosa... 

the example you share above is stunning...
personally I found this form hard going....
but I was thrilled when I finally finished it 

thank you for sharing, my friend 

*hugs*

Sasha xx 




And death shall have no dominion. 
dead men naked they shall be one 
with the man in the wind and the west moon, 
when their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone
(Dylan Thomas: And death shall have no dominion)



Song of the Black Swan


Forked tongues spit fire unto the night
where the lost drink shadows before dawn,
and they boast of how far the angel fell,
all too beautifully by their twisted hand
his side, stained by the dark of woman,
long shadow stench dusts off her minion
and bows low to the leviathan, and
her lyrical sycophant steps up to the mic
preaches to many, so full of his own opinion,
and death shall have no dominion.

They milk the moon of darkest gossamer
for the strutting inchworm born of mud,
and they turn their warted backs to the light
as their choir squawks its chorus, off key,
how they struggle, with jelly spines, to stand
clamoring to hear filigree come undone
crowns slip, to choke the breath of knowledge
from the shriveled breast of leviathan’s bride
and they of mixed stature will face the longest run
dead men naked they shall be one

Truth comes wrapped in tribal mink, dripped to skin
as thigh high boots step her velvet-woman-singing
and she laughs as they squirm in their homemade filth
their tongues split wide open to spill the sickest ink
wailing to a moon that turns her back in shame
the hidden children of dark hollows, swoon
while the pearl tattooed inner thigh of light, speaks
in karma tongue breezes to soothe the wicked, and
midnight drips slow and sultry to a southern dune
with the man in the wind and the west moon

Dare they not dance in the shadows of dream
where the elements mumble their voice in corners
the promise of trespass will see them soon blind
swimming in circles where flames dance on poles
sinners and schemers sit high on the mountain
self-crowned deity, seeking prey to swoop upon
but the willow eyed, smile wide, as the mountain crumbles
there’s nothing so satisfying as watching them fall
darkness bleeds thick to the song of the black swan
when their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone


© Sasha ‘06





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