Of Blemishes1 min 214 1 min 214
I’m panglossian at heart maybe -
That defenestrates plausible omen.
The agathokakological earth has reason many,
Yet I seem to pay no heed to any!
Bereft of an iota of soporific means,
Tends to leave me rather delirious.
As I furtively put on a tattered mitten;
My victuals lay unsullied, unbitten.
Perhaps it’s pedanticism pulling its strings;
Resplendent - I try to desecrate it and
Emerge into a perpetual ataraxy,
That seraphic feeling yclept, “Serene”!
Bucolic strands emanating an aroma of petrichor
Seem to awaken even a moribund corpse!
Of halcyon days, when purlieus were full,
Have you ever felt that fleeting pull?
With oblivious slurs; perhaps at utter perdition,
Of blemishes encapsulating rigorous beauty –
Maybe you can just breathe peacefully!