It would appear to me, then it seems so,
that I would never know, oh goes…
the salem dance and trojan game,
flows across the top like in a video- all the same.

Yet I know that among those in the imparted too dearly,
oh dear so dreary how I lament the shame?
The name is so inscribed as to circumvent the caliber at which…
I am made to look like a fool in amongst the rules-
Never to see a misery.
Never to touch a turtle dove.
Never to fly a raven jet.
Never to lose a bet?
No… I have, and so…
Wouldn’t you know it? I am the one who sows it.

The reaper to my call is the invocation oh gratis,
Haze and burn; it does both?
It doth… it dotes.
And I wrote it down once long ago, that if two of us should ever meet;
once again I would lose all hope of heaven.
Deary, I am apogee, apologetic in tamed form.
I am God’s witness to the light of a convocation,
that would amuse and explore the lore of this story.
A story that is an half past horus.
The man who devoured lightning,
I am unsightning.

BY REV. KEN TRAN