Dark horse whines silently and alone
When the festered face of the moon
Leers at bulbous trees under.
Darkness comes forth with tholes he
Lives with, as festal drumming yonder
Celebrates the fickleness of weak champions.
Even trollops reign in circuses of wide-coloured
Buntings for drunken celebrations only.
Dark horse rests on a settle, descrying the
Weakness of every culture from the stems of
Arable lands, hung on sun-soothed cliffs.
His laughter rolls with the tongues of the sage
Who propound ethics for an effete society.
With gimlet eyes he searches for gimcrack
Inventions, just to spiflicate them in a fraise of
Loose language.
Dark horse mourns alone, but has the halo of
The moon for a calm ceremony of the wits.