Vice D'or

Gone, the irritating whinging whining,

The siren wail that might have been a voice,

No more, the manic screech of shifting misery,

At which turning, triumph will rejoice.

Never more the taunt of exultation,

Shrill and shallow victory-cry of hate,

Gone forever, deadly dart of darkness.

Touching amber embers in Hell’s grate.

Left behind, the mutant accusation,

Self propelled to maximize the maim,

Abandoned, the philosophy of cruelty

Robbed of target, inward turning blame.

History, a child of legislation,

Blind, for men the future is a veil,

A memory, the fetid fruit of lying,

Dark cloud of oppression turning pale.

Tiny foetal whisper of a prospect

Striving to survive at fading verge,

A sliver slit of dark enveloped radiance

Struggling must from shadows yet emerge.

Hope, that well of never-ending succour

Propping life on legs of tremulous you,

Forward inch by inch to newer dawning,

Budding green will overcome the blue.

Dedicated to a happy marraige and a happy divorce!