The Tale of the Ragman
They will come, horses and men
with a urgent message
Gentle weeping song of the forsaken bride
A death, a veil of misguided intents
the skilled tactician dissects the mystery of a lie
silly escapades
who is it that is many
artless deviants, rich inglorious bastards
meet the face of a light in the darkness
how should things be
beauty in simplicity
the dying voice of a dying world
calls out to the darkness
eyes lost in infinity
a stirring, a glance, a little how do you do
until we take out the teacups and cake
oh, mr. ragman tell me your story
tales of forgotten woe
pretty damsels, gallant knights, codes of right
tired, sick, alone, but not very bright
a child is born
a sticky mess it is
I should have seen it
but I was blind
barely it shimmered
amidst the company of the shadow creatures
little blurs obscuring one's sight
feeding on misery
it giggled with glee
have you seen them
they see you
they love mischief
whispering little words in your ear
tiny insignificant nothings
that we hold so dear
the world is a paradise
and they sit on a throne
waiting, wondering, bored
dance, because they demand, you sing
inspired by The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock a poem by T S Eliot
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