Camouflage

The best disguise is always love’s:

The iron hand in a velvet glove,

The terror that swoops down from above.

As you lay back, begin to relax, 

Love cleaves you in two with its axe

While Cupid stabs you in the back 

And your beloved sneak attacks….

In the sultry mists of night 

You’re defeated without a fight,

Without dignity or even the chance

To pull up and buckle on your pants.

Practical Religion

Is some protecting deity for you more than just a may-it-be? Then before you sleep, in all humility, while upon your knees, beseech your deity to stop the hearts of those whose prey you be. If it don’t work, you’re just a jerk.

Coup-de-grâce

When you’re faced 

With 

Your end of days, 

Take up an 

Axe

And hack your past 

To tinder and splinters,

Then

Set it ablaze. 

For by the light of 

That fire, as the flames 

Ever higher climb, you 

Will find that the pyre

Clears out your mind and

Soon, 

Despite your dread,

Your purified head no

Longer sees an end to 

Days. Instead,

That hazy vision,

Naked now, is revealed

As what it always 

Really was: your 

Phoenix soul, reborn to 

Soar in fiery flight,

Putting

An end to both your 

Personal night and your 

Crippling daze.…