H.L. Dowless

The Weight Of Years
Time knoweth not any strangers.
Unto those who lie and think that he has forgotten,
their bodies and minds may continue on in silent danger,
...

The barrel is on the porch a purging fat possum.
The flower is in a five gallon bucket nearly forgotten.
The apples are in the root cellar to keep 'em from going rotten.
The farmer is out in the fields just a plottin'.
...

To Salem we go,
that beautiful place that we all know,
to fill our coffers with doe,
onward to Salem we all shall go.
...

To the face upon yon wall;
did ye once grace some enchanted place,
or did ye once guard some forgotten revered hall?
Is thine image of some Inca King set in his ways?
...

On a sofa of leather in the mentor's lounge I now sit,
pondering futures' test,
painting a portrait of my forward bequest
unto those majestic ancient warrior gods, whom shall allow it.
...

The islands are callin', I got that endearing feeling,
the fish are biting and schooling, it's hurricane season.
The bohemians are gathering to paint, ponder and glorify
those hidden dimensions of life and the justifying reasons
...

Doth the light hanging above my table shine
to illuminate without the flicker of fire bright,
the wasting wax only diddles to a dripping pantomime.
But the supreme test tonight
...

Lets go a wassailin',
a wassailin',
a wassailin'.
Lets go a wassailin'
...

The moon is a looming quarter
as all of Glendale sit on their back porches,
gazing across the valley border.
Singing hails to god Camulus, keeping vigilant order
...

The wind is singing sweetly,
can't you taste the blood wine?
The gentle ladies are sighing deeply
as the dulcimer plays that haunting pantomime.
...

Bless me now, thy apparition so divine...
Sing sweetly unto me thy assurance, as ye breathe the exalted pantomime.
Thy sweet breath holdeth more value than coins of lucid gold,
for thy anointed presence beareth much more harvest than do doubloons untold.
...

No more leeches, no more pain,
no more reasons to explain.
The way it all was, is the way that it shall stand to exist,
no more reasons to resist.
...

I saw her languishing there in the courtyard among the flowers,
sitting 'neath the old pear tree,
holding a bouquet of chrysanthemum for hours,
appearing as though her dark secret was to forebear all chastity.
...