Ni Plus Ni Plus !

Torrid eyes see yonder,

Come passion of rest,

Wicked reasons let me be,

Enough done, Ni plus! Ni plus!


Doldrums of violent anger,

What nonsense it speaks,

Bon Dieu! Bon Dieu!

Give meaning to peace


Treason, not hither not thither,

Divine trust credits deceit,

Silence thy killing daggers,

My ale is going weak


Lament thy selfish fervours,

The blood reeks of defeat,

Harbingers hath ever so told,

Alas! I begot no feel

What fate brings me asunder,

I must in myself now keep,

For if it breaks, it breaks,

And claim the life of me



This is one of the poems from my first collection, Mumblings of a Fool Volume I






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