Pirouette And Parody


What tawdry melodies
What over-frequented bars
What cliché-laden notes

What lustful desires
What spiteful tricks
What fearful denials

What we choose to call love
What a grotesque ballet
We turn it into

About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on January 27, 2018, in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

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