Sweet Sophia III

So I entered the farm, that great big farm and I heard a song, a sweet grieving song of grief. Great was the lament lining the song. Followed it I did to find Sophia, seated solemn atop a soul grave; weeping, tattered, worn by grief. She said her spirit was split, she said ‘o, my dear, I am weak’.

So I looked all about me, searching a salve. There was Sophia on the plough, Sophia at the mill, Sophia under the cow, Sophia in the soil; Sophia, Sophia, Sophia, she can’t even remember her name. Pouring with pity, I went to her and kissed her, kissed her I did, so deep and impassioned; perhaps, this will be, the Kiss of Life.

Sweet Sophia II

And again, I hear her, my sweet Sophia, she weeps, her voice reaches me, I hear it, it mashes me, mercy me. Her voice is hollow, it’s shallow, full of grief, burdened with the sorrow of yesterday and tomorrow. Your voice makes an impression on my vision, manifests, an apparition, no it’s not, it’s corpus.

In tears I see you, tattered, slaving on meaningless quarry under negligible dracos. Your tears, they crawl to me, tug at my robe in deep misery, their tears produce a heat in my head and then I start to cry, our sorrows kiss on this deadly grounds. Ha, o, my soul.

They find my contravention and they shoot, they shoot, my legs, my feet, my head, my heartbeat. They attempt to dismember me, ta-ta-ta-ta-ta, they fall to the ground but I have shared in your grief, most beatific feat and so I sleep in peace in my pieces.

No Title 7

And I saw Sophia up upon the stage, in ostentation she was presented. It blinded her light so she shined no longer. The spotlight put her at gunpoint, I saw the anxiety in her eyes and o my Sophia, sweet Sofia, I sought to rescue her from the wicked eyes of the villains; in gangs they were. So I ran forever, reaching for my darling, I keep running. Runnin, sprintin, leap and bound, for my beautiful Sophia who swoons in the presence of these ravenous hyenas here.

O my Sophia, sweet Sophia.