Ode to MOAP - a poem

conchaka falls
like time
like tears
curses me her master

her crumple tower
its ears
turn twists in the nighted sky
petal pure

late stars appear where roof stood
and in the swelter-soon
of desert black ice
comes cool
comes light

and reflections
on the summer
of our dissed-content

Like Conan to Numedides your humble barbarian minstrel proffers verse on The Exiles’ (recent) Journey, with no balm in shared loss. Despite missing pieces, we have ultimately survived. Thank you for reading!


That line alone had me in stitches. Bloody brilliant!

How does this post not have 1x10^3 likes?

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Thanks, mate! Too soon – more heat than light present when penned!

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