Poetry

Hides The Veil

His eyes
as cold as the ice
in his Scotch,
as slant as his intent,
with a charm disarming
those unlucky in his path.

He delivers dark
by his carriage of character –
down East End rainy streets,
up West End sticky roads,
around North Side dirty corners,
over South Side bloodied paths –
with raging beast
always on the tips of his heels –
A beast named Self.

He is stuck in the tar
of a delusionary abyss,
where righteousness reigns,
pride prospers,
where the bold are beaten
into submission
to bend before him…

He takes them all.

 

 

© Luis Royo
© Luis Royo

 

*Poet’s Note:

The title is an anagram.  Sometimes even the best of intention from the lighter side of a Soul is consumed by its own darker Ego.

The result ~ destruction. 

C. Rhys

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