Bunny
I'm a singer/songwriter/self sacrificer, who sings in a dark-wave band of my creation called Tail From the Crypt.
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Written by Bunny

Be Brave

From mass rapes

Against our women...

Bloody Sunday

On the blacks...

Violence, and naked

Aggression 

Tried to keep 

Tsunami back...

...The Niagara

Had to cascade!...

No more snags

Would be allowed!...

The body politic

Was lacking, and

Disparate of the 

Crowd.

We we're poles apart

From equal...

There was fear 

Inside our hearts!...

...Acts of courage

Kept us humble,

And allowed

Healing to start...

Elite had their stinking

Fingers in

All of our sugar bowls...

...It's been hard to know

The up, and up, and

For who the rooster

Crows...

...Now, what were 

All of these struggles

For?...

...The women cast in

Jail...

The black youth 

Drenched with firehoses...

The gruesome, hateful

Tales

From the South of 

Freedom Fighters mauled

By dogs, and by barbed

Wire?...

...Why did they fight?...

Not just for rights, but 

For what they all aspired

Would be 

A just, and sincere government

That would honor their

Own needs

For the pursuit of happiness,

And freedom.

...We must recall these

Daring deeds

Of protestors who 

Weathered limits,

And gave birth to 

Brave new worlds.

...And while the 

Hydra

Of technology 

Continues to unfurl,

We must remember 

To keep fighting...

...To not grow weary

In this haze

Of media idolatry,

And frenzy...

We must remember

To be brave.

©

2017

Bunny Villaire 

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Written by Bunny
Be Brave
From mass rapes
Against our women...
Bloody Sunday
On the blacks...
Violence, and naked
Aggression 
Tried to keep 
Tsunami back...

...The Niagara
Had to cascade!...
No more snags
Would be allowed!...
The body politic
Was lacking, and
Disparate of the 
Crowd.

We we're poles apart
From equal...
There was fear 
Inside our hearts!...
...Acts of courage
Kept us humble,
And allowed
Healing to start...

Elite had their stinking
Fingers in
All of our sugar bowls...
...It's been hard to know
The up, and up, and
For who the rooster
Crows...

...Now, what were 
All of these struggles
For?...
...The women cast in
Jail...
The black youth 
Drenched with firehoses...
The gruesome, hateful
Tales
From the South of 
Freedom Fighters mauled
By dogs, and by barbed
Wire?...

...Why did they fight?...
Not just for rights, but 
For what they all aspired
Would be 
A just, and sincere government
That would honor their
Own needs
For the pursuit of happiness,
And freedom.

...We must recall these
Daring deeds
Of protestors who 
Weathered limits,
And gave birth to 
Brave new worlds.

...And while the 
Hydra
Of technology 
Continues to unfurl,
We must remember 
To keep fighting...
...To not grow weary
In this haze
Of media idolatry,
And frenzy...

We must remember
To be brave.





©
2017
Bunny Villaire 
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Written by Bunny

Dancing with Ourselves

I feel a tap...tap...tap 

Upon my back...

...Or is that only

Just the breeze?...

The Information Age

Has sapped 

Our efforts to conceive

Of something that's beyond

The sphere of this 

'Party on a Plate'...

Let me dance this out!...

It's the only route...

...I better wise up

To my fate!...

The latest 'happening'

For those turned needy

In their efforts to keep

Up...

It's a 'happening'

Like in the '60s...

...Though we're lonesome,

And corrupt...

Can't you sense the 

Hordes 

Managed by their screens?...

...There was once a time

When we were redeemed

By the 

Prospects of 

Technology...

...Now I feel it all 

Stemming from a

Scheme 

Of this holding out 

For status...

...Many who felt 

Small,

Now crawl

In the spider web 

Of a dying culture...

..Here's your hideout

For a price!...

Let me dance this out!...

It's the only route...

...Pretty soon we'll roll

The dice,

And come to terms with 

Our missed connections...

...Hell, I hate the 

Roving pack,

But there's something to

A unique alliance,

And I feel it's what 

These fiends,

With their texting, and

Incoherent blogs,

Are trying to achieve...

I feel a tap...tap...tap

Upon my back...

...Or is that only

Just the breeze?...

The Information Age

Has sapped

Our efforts to conceive.

©

2017

Bunny Villaire 

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Written by Bunny
Dancing with Ourselves
I feel a tap...tap...tap 
Upon my back...
...Or is that only
Just the breeze?...

The Information Age
Has sapped 
Our efforts to conceive
Of something that's beyond
The sphere of this 
'Party on a Plate'...

Let me dance this out!...
It's the only route...
...I better wise up
To my fate!...
The latest 'happening'
For those turned needy
In their efforts to keep
Up...
It's a 'happening'
Like in the '60s...
...Though we're lonesome,
And corrupt...

Can't you sense the 
Hordes 
Managed by their screens?...
...There was once a time
When we were redeemed
By the 
Prospects of 
Technology...

...Now I feel it all 
Stemming from a
Scheme 
Of this holding out 
For status...
...Many who felt 
Small,
Now crawl
In the spider web 
Of a dying culture...

..Here's your hideout
For a price!...

Let me dance this out!...
It's the only route...
...Pretty soon we'll roll
The dice,
And come to terms with 
Our missed connections...

...Hell, I hate the 
Roving pack,
But there's something to
A unique alliance,
And I feel it's what 
These fiends,
With their texting, and
Incoherent blogs,
Are trying to achieve...

I feel a tap...tap...tap
Upon my back...
...Or is that only
Just the breeze?...

The Information Age
Has sapped
Our efforts to conceive.


©
2017
Bunny Villaire 












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Written by Bunny

Those Hipsters Keep Appearing

In the First World where

Big tears descend...

Always our self-love 

Is on the mend...

"O, G*d, I haven't been

Accepted 

By ironic beards, and 

Voluntary twits..."

...Too bad my eyes don't

Need prescriptions,

As I might resort to it,

And waste my dollars

On a new face that 

The public will approve...

Those Hipsters keep appearing...

...Watch them clutter 

Up my street!...

...Their obviously well-heeled

To afford entry 

Amongst their fleet...

Those Hipsters keep appearing

Bringing gentrifying views,

As their more important

Than what's current...

...Make a path, and let 

Them through!... 

...Tho they claim their mask

Comes from expression,

And it's never been a ruse

To gain admittance into the

Circle...

...Wary for a wave, or cue!...

Propelled on their 

Organic diets

That leave me gasping for

A breath

When they pass wind,

Or lift an armpit...

...But their slavish to 

Their theft...

You can polish up your

China...

You can gauge your ear

Until

It can fit the hugest

Ball and chain

The world will ever

Sell...

In the First World where

Big tears descend...

Always our self-love

Is on the mend...

...And you must return

The favor for

The solace that you net

From all these somethings

Who equal nothing

When their brought to 

Light, and set

Out under the luckiest of

Noses...

...Yes, we're finally

Right on time

For the expose to show us

What so long we have

Denied...

Those Hipsters keep appearing...

...Watch them clutter

Up my street!...

...They've obviously greased 

Many palms for entry

On their fleet...

Those Hipsters keep appearing...

Want to scrape them off my shoes!...

...Seems their more important

Than what's current...

...Make a path, you've let

Them through!...

©

2017

Bunny Villaire 

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Written by Bunny
Those Hipsters Keep Appearing
In the First World where
Big tears descend...
Always our self-love 
Is on the mend...

"O, G*d, I haven't been
Accepted 
By ironic beards, and 
Voluntary twits..."
...Too bad my eyes don't
Need prescriptions,
As I might resort to it,
And waste my dollars
On a new face that 
The public will approve...

Those Hipsters keep appearing...
...Watch them clutter 
Up my street!...
...Their obviously well-heeled
To afford entry 
Amongst their fleet...

Those Hipsters keep appearing
Bringing gentrifying views,
As their more important
Than what's current...
...Make a path, and let 
Them through!... 

...Tho they claim their mask
Comes from expression,
And it's never been a ruse
To gain admittance into the
Circle...
...Wary for a wave, or cue!...

Propelled on their 
Organic diets
That leave me gasping for
A breath
When they pass wind,
Or lift an armpit...
...But their slavish to 
Their theft...

You can polish up your
China...
You can gauge your ear
Until
It can fit the hugest
Ball and chain
The world will ever
Sell...

In the First World where
Big tears descend...
Always our self-love
Is on the mend...

...And you must return
The favor for
The solace that you net
From all these somethings
Who equal nothing
When their brought to 
Light, and set
Out under the luckiest of
Noses...
...Yes, we're finally
Right on time
For the expose to show us
What so long we have
Denied...

Those Hipsters keep appearing...
...Watch them clutter
Up my street!...
...They've obviously greased 
Many palms for entry
On their fleet...

Those Hipsters keep appearing...
Want to scrape them off my shoes!...
...Seems their more important
Than what's current...
...Make a path, you've let
Them through!...



©
2017
Bunny Villaire 
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Written by Bunny

Courted by Lady Red, El Matador Bleeds

Woman, blood-red...

...Crimson lips,

And hiked

Heels...

El Matador has

Always

Dreamt of mad zeal,

Although daily

He seals

The end of a life...

...The bull's iris

Gleaming

With hatred,

And strife...

Glimpses her in the

Stands, as the

Dim stars

Explode!...

...In the back of

His mind

He is lonely, and

Cold...

...Freshly re-

leased,

She's becoming

Self ruling!...

...She emerged from

The wreck of

The maddened

Fixed flock...

...Woman with a

Defender!...

...Got a

Dog

In her corner!...

...Screwy ol' codger...

Maniac loner...

...Who's assuaged

By the illness

Enclosed in her

Sales pitch.

...Some vain trick

In staging

That he must now

Take heed...

Woman in red

Balls

El Matador's love,

And counts it

With piles of

Paramour's

By her

Feet.

...The bull's iris

Gleaming

With hatred,

And strife...

She drinks

Of his heart...

'til it aches from

The milking!

...Woman in red...

Crimson lips

That must

Feed!...

Hard to know her

For real!...

...Thrives below the

Town's belly...

El Matador's mind

Muddies

When he

Recalls...

...How she waltzed

Through his life,

Snatching

Seeds

From

His lawn...

...Once so

Unshakable!...

...She must have

A plan!...

...All his letters

Untraceable...

Drafted by

Many hands.

...The bull's iris

Gleaming

With hatred,

And strife...

...Bull's iris

Clots over

During his

Ceaseless night...

©2017======= Bunny Villaire

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Written by Bunny
Courted by Lady Red, El Matador Bleeds
Woman, blood-red...
...Crimson lips,
And hiked
Heels...

El Matador has
Always
Dreamt of mad zeal,
Although daily
He seals
The end of a life...

...The bull's iris
Gleaming
With hatred,
And strife...

Glimpses her in the
Stands, as the
Dim stars
Explode!...
...In the back of
His mind
He is lonely, and
Cold...

...Freshly re-
leased,
She's becoming
Self ruling!...
...She emerged from
The wreck of
The maddened
Fixed flock...

...Woman with a
Defender!...
...Got a
Dog
In her corner!...

...Screwy ol' codger...
Maniac loner...
...Who's assuaged
By the illness
Enclosed in her
Sales pitch.
...Some vain trick
In staging
That he must now
Take heed...

Woman in red
Balls
El Matador's love,
And counts it
With piles of
Paramour's
By her
Feet.

...The bull's iris
Gleaming
With hatred,
And strife...

She drinks
Of his heart...
'til it aches from
The milking!

...Woman in red...
Crimson lips
That must
Feed!...

Hard to know her
For real!...
...Thrives below the
Town's belly...

El Matador's mind
Muddies
When he
Recalls...
...How she waltzed
Through his life,
Snatching
Seeds
From
His lawn...

...Once so
Unshakable!...
...She must have
A plan!...
...All his letters
Untraceable...
Drafted by
Many hands.

...The bull's iris
Gleaming
With hatred,
And strife...

...Bull's iris
Clots over
During his
Ceaseless night...


©2017======= Bunny Villaire
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Written by Bunny

What is it About My Sundays?

What is it about my 

Sundays...

...Grants me passage

From my grief?...

...Endorses every

Lack of effort...

As I embark 

On wreckage 

Heaps... 

...Allowing me

To drift upon

The billow of

An endless river!...

...Go with the tide...

...To Avalon.

To the 

Clock!...clock!...clock!...

That's screaming epoch,

On a feverish parade...

...The Sunday in my mind

Lives on!...

...The Sunday in my mind

Lives on!...

What is it about my 

Sundays...

...Banishes pearls

That spot my face?...

...A Margarita with a 

Pickle...

At first blush, coffee's

Routine takes place...

This Sunday peace could

Really suit me!...

...I recommend it 

To your friends!...

...A crack in time,

A sweet postponement...

...Wish that my Sunday'd

Never end!...

©

2017

Bunny Villaire 

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Written by Bunny
What is it About My Sundays?
What is it about my 
Sundays...
...Grants me passage
From my grief?...

...Endorses every
Lack of effort...
As I embark 
On wreckage 
Heaps... 

...Allowing me
To drift upon
The billow of
An endless river!...

...Go with the tide...
...To Avalon.

To the 
Clock!...clock!...clock!...
That's screaming epoch,
On a feverish parade...

...The Sunday in my mind
Lives on!...
...The Sunday in my mind
Lives on!...

What is it about my 
Sundays...
...Banishes pearls
That spot my face?...
...A Margarita with a 
Pickle...
At first blush, coffee's
Routine takes place...

This Sunday peace could
Really suit me!...
...I recommend it 
To your friends!...
...A crack in time,
A sweet postponement...
...Wish that my Sunday'd
Never end!...

©
2017
Bunny Villaire 
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Written by Bunny

The Wolves Inside Me

The wolves inside me move and vibe,

They thrive beneath the

Sheet

Of winter white, and endless

Night...

...The steam that comes off meat...

Presence biding...

Their deciding... 

When off

Hunting game...

...Curious, wild...

True feral child

Burrows in my

Brain!...

The wolves inside

Can suffer me,

And feast upon my

Grief...

...I pray that they have great

Success!...

...The night is young,

It's cheeks

Are full with luscious

Prizes

That were snatched up

With due care...

The wolves that I have summoned

Seem to enter

From thin air

And bless me

With their secrets

At this time of desperate yearning...

The wolves inside me move and thrive...

...They tempt me out of

Cold designs...

And here I am,

Closemouthed,

My eyes

Can see past

Secret trees...

©

2017

Bunny Villaire

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Written by Bunny
The Wolves Inside Me
The wolves inside me move and vibe,
They thrive beneath the
Sheet
Of winter white, and endless
Night...
...The steam that comes off meat...

Presence biding...
Their deciding... 
When off
Hunting game...

...Curious, wild...
True feral child
Burrows in my
Brain!...

The wolves inside
Can suffer me,
And feast upon my
Grief...

...I pray that they have great
Success!...
...The night is young,
It's cheeks
Are full with luscious
Prizes
That were snatched up
With due care...

The wolves that I have summoned
Seem to enter
From thin air
And bless me
With their secrets
At this time of desperate yearning...

The wolves inside me move and thrive...
...They tempt me out of
Cold designs...
And here I am,
Closemouthed,
My eyes
Can see past
Secret trees...




©
2017
Bunny Villaire
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Written by Bunny

I Feel That I Deserve the Dark

Capture a hiss...

...Scraping that bleeds...

Noise echoes from 

A dim back street...

I feel that I deserve the dark,

And that the darkness 

In her turn,

Deserves the gross 

Of my despair...

...A teeming shopping bag

I'll share

Of my unlimited supply!...

I feel that I...I feel that I...

...I feel, while in 

This public place,

(Of plastic signs,

And sewer grates)

I'm so estranged 

From heaven's grace,

I now can welcome

What I dread...

...And as she exits,

Like the lead

That pelts a body

'til it's meat,

I open wounds,

Filling the streets

With my hot blood

That's now on tap...

...I was a sap

To assume otherwise...

...The knot-hole 

In this wooden fence

Is where I must 

Drive every effort

Through...

How could I dare to

Be so dense?...

I feel that I deserve the dark,

And that the darkness

In her turn,

Deserves the gross

Of my despair...

A teeming shopping bag

I'll share

Of my unlimited supply!...

...Come my darling...

Spill from the sky!...

Taste of my lips with your

Black tongue!...

...Sealing the envelope of 

One

Who's always skirted

The rear edge...

...Snakes may slide...

Rodents may crawl...

...I feel that I

Deserve them all!...

Just what is death, and

What is life?...

I feel that I deserve the dark,

And that the darkness

In her turn, deserves 

The sum of my brass tacks...

My cool reflection...

...Yawning foot tracks...

That signal where I've come,

And gone...

It is my Fate...

...And though her song

Has not been sung for many

Months,

Her visions squatting

In my brain...

...A murky phantom 

I contain

Until we both have

Run together...

...Our paint now bound

To canvas tether...

©

2017

Bunny Villaire 

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Written by Bunny
I Feel That I Deserve the Dark
Capture a hiss...
...Scraping that bleeds...
Noise echoes from 
A dim back street...

I feel that I deserve the dark,
And that the darkness 
In her turn,
Deserves the gross 
Of my despair...
...A teeming shopping bag
I'll share
Of my unlimited supply!...

I feel that I...I feel that I...

...I feel, while in 
This public place,
(Of plastic signs,
And sewer grates)
I'm so estranged 
From heaven's grace,
I now can welcome
What I dread...

...And as she exits,
Like the lead
That pelts a body
'til it's meat,
I open wounds,
Filling the streets
With my hot blood
That's now on tap...

...I was a sap
To assume otherwise...
...The knot-hole 
In this wooden fence
Is where I must 
Drive every effort
Through...

How could I dare to
Be so dense?...

I feel that I deserve the dark,
And that the darkness
In her turn,
Deserves the gross
Of my despair...
A teeming shopping bag
I'll share
Of my unlimited supply!...

...Come my darling...
Spill from the sky!...
Taste of my lips with your
Black tongue!...
...Sealing the envelope of 
One
Who's always skirted
The rear edge...

...Snakes may slide...
Rodents may crawl...
...I feel that I
Deserve them all!...

Just what is death, and
What is life?...

I feel that I deserve the dark,
And that the darkness
In her turn, deserves 
The sum of my brass tacks...
My cool reflection...
...Yawning foot tracks...
That signal where I've come,
And gone...

It is my Fate...
...And though her song
Has not been sung for many
Months,
Her visions squatting
In my brain...
...A murky phantom 
I contain
Until we both have
Run together...
...Our paint now bound
To canvas tether...





©
2017
Bunny Villaire 







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Written by Bunny

'HAIRY EXCHANGE' ISSUE 1#

IT's HARD TO SHOW YOU How COOL THIS Cover For My Art/Music Co-op 'PVC H.Ex''s First Mini-Magazine is what with the weird Prose feature where it only shows you part of a piece of Art.  The art's by a artist friend of mine from the UK called Steve Harradine who's a great rock and roll poster artist in England. 'The Hairy Exchange' is the name of the zine I want to create.

Originally we had wanted the Hairy Exchange to be a pipeline to the darker side of society.  We live in a sick, sick world...let's revel in it!  If you can't laugh at the insanity of this world then you might as well give me your height and weight so I can order in your casket! 

We're searching for short stories about experiences in religious cults or secret societies or underground activities others may not be privy too.  Poems about the underground would be accepted as well.  We're just looking for the seedy underbelly, and the root of all evil when it comes to society.  I know for a definite fact that darkness lurks in the heart of men, and women, now I want you to show me the money!  Also if you can be tongue and cheek about it, that's really what I'm looking for.  Dark comedy that exposes the carnality of our excesses.  Comics!  Parody!  Poetry!  Stories!  Fake news!  Anything you feel like sticking a fork in.  Think 'National Lampoon' gets dirty!  The more offensive the better!

Message me or send submissions to: bunnyvillage80@gmail.com

(I'll send anybody who gets in the zine a couple copies of it to share with friends)

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Written by Bunny
'HAIRY EXCHANGE' ISSUE 1#
IT's HARD TO SHOW YOU How COOL THIS Cover For My Art/Music Co-op 'PVC H.Ex''s First Mini-Magazine is what with the weird Prose feature where it only shows you part of a piece of Art.  The art's by a artist friend of mine from the UK called Steve Harradine who's a great rock and roll poster artist in England. 'The Hairy Exchange' is the name of the zine I want to create.

Originally we had wanted the Hairy Exchange to be a pipeline to the darker side of society.  We live in a sick, sick world...let's revel in it!  If you can't laugh at the insanity of this world then you might as well give me your height and weight so I can order in your casket! 

We're searching for short stories about experiences in religious cults or secret societies or underground activities others may not be privy too.  Poems about the underground would be accepted as well.  We're just looking for the seedy underbelly, and the root of all evil when it comes to society.  I know for a definite fact that darkness lurks in the heart of men, and women, now I want you to show me the money!  Also if you can be tongue and cheek about it, that's really what I'm looking for.  Dark comedy that exposes the carnality of our excesses.  Comics!  Parody!  Poetry!  Stories!  Fake news!  Anything you feel like sticking a fork in.  Think 'National Lampoon' gets dirty!  The more offensive the better!

Message me or send submissions to: bunnyvillage80@gmail.com
(I'll send anybody who gets in the zine a couple copies of it to share with friends)
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Written by Bunny

1 lass peez oaf ad-vice

One lass peez oaf ad-vice

From your fun friendly doctor

Before we

Close our sess...

(Zip your flies up)

"Are you feel phone grub grunt

Under and dreaeam?...

Are you drub drummed out

Of the servile jerk junket?..."

...I was gonna go gob glance,

Darned if I was,

But then...

next, I though

what's the flow on that

diesel dog, can you

Blame up?...?...and up

...or when?...?

Ok, no, and butt-webbed braid

Convulse a slum turkey

Club...

...They cook the cool club

Out

With a clump gut,

(leave the rest to clog the drain)

And before you need it

Your dress is all wrink

No...no...when you turn on

A dime,...n...it was...

You turn, washing

Machete two swings

To the seam...

...I was

Too sheets to the soul,

I was near a pronouncement...

© 2017================== Bunny Villaire

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Written by Bunny
1 lass peez oaf ad-vice
One lass peez oaf ad-vice
From your fun friendly doctor
Before we
Close our sess...
(Zip your flies up)

"Are you feel phone grub grunt
Under and dreaeam?...
Are you drub drummed out
Of the servile jerk junket?..."

...I was gonna go gob glance,
Darned if I was,
But then...

next, I though
what's the flow on that
diesel dog, can you
Blame up?...?...and up
...or when?...?

Ok, no, and butt-webbed braid
Convulse a slum turkey
Club...
...They cook the cool club
Out
With a clump gut,
(leave the rest to clog the drain)
And before you need it
Your dress is all wrink

No...no...when you turn on
A dime,...n...it was...
You turn, washing
Machete two swings
To the seam...
...I was

Too sheets to the soul,
I was near a pronouncement...

© 2017================== Bunny Villaire
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Written by Bunny

Those Dreams That You Sniped

Those dreams that you sniped

All alive, and still well...

...In Naples they swing 

Like their under a spell

To the amorous drive

From some poet's guitar...

Those dreams that you thought you had 

Sacrificed...

...Like bottles they wash up

By the palest moonlight...

Those dreams that you thought dead,

Only stored in night shed...

...Eclipsed by your absence

High rapture now pierced...

...And now it's uncovered,

Your scene has dispersed!...

...Roused from a deep slumber...

Bounced round in your hearse...

Those dreams that you sniped

All alive, and still well...

...In Naples they swing

Like their under a spell

To the amorous drive

From some poet's guitar...

Dreams flung in the closet...

...Pushed so far up behind 

All the footgear, and

Finery...

Trophies, endless

Designs...

...All your stained,

Inane trinkets, 

Brought to mind 

Hidden joys

That are still nearly 

Breathing...

...At your neck

They lay poised...

Those dreams that you sniped

All alive, and still well!...

...In Naples they swing

Like their under a spell

To the amorous drive

From some poet's guitar...

Those dreams took for granted...

(...Jilted, like a shipwreck...)

Piling dreams for granted...

(...Buried up to your neck...)

©

2017

Bunny Villaire 

6
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Juice
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Written by Bunny
Those Dreams That You Sniped
Those dreams that you sniped
All alive, and still well...
...In Naples they swing 
Like their under a spell
To the amorous drive
From some poet's guitar...

Those dreams that you thought you had 
Sacrificed...
...Like bottles they wash up
By the palest moonlight...

Those dreams that you thought dead,
Only stored in night shed...
...Eclipsed by your absence
High rapture now pierced...
...And now it's uncovered,
Your scene has dispersed!...
...Roused from a deep slumber...
Bounced round in your hearse...

Those dreams that you sniped
All alive, and still well...
...In Naples they swing
Like their under a spell
To the amorous drive
From some poet's guitar...

Dreams flung in the closet...
...Pushed so far up behind 
All the footgear, and
Finery...
Trophies, endless
Designs...
...All your stained,
Inane trinkets, 
Brought to mind 
Hidden joys
That are still nearly 
Breathing...
...At your neck
They lay poised...

Those dreams that you sniped
All alive, and still well!...
...In Naples they swing
Like their under a spell
To the amorous drive
From some poet's guitar...

Those dreams took for granted...
(...Jilted, like a shipwreck...)

Piling dreams for granted...
(...Buried up to your neck...)







©
2017
Bunny Villaire 
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