Author: Rick Ryckman
Timidly frail in my wavering fatigue!
Staggering and stumbling; I have walked through the years.
Remote in distant, I am mesmerized as my beast fervently roars.
The irrational zealot,
trying to control destiny that is shackled with disaster ominously or death!
Famished, I cannot fathom the elaborate feast at the masquerade.
Let me be the legendary magician who sells his soul to the devil
in exchange for power and knowledge.
I am sorry it is not your turn ---- sit here ---- you are next.
Comments on this poem/writing:
|frances perez (188.8.131.52) -- Wednesday, January 10 2007, 09:23 am|
i kind of like this one buddy.......but sell your soul??????????
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