Wickedly the sign swells of contemptuous vacancy,
a myriad of rooms, big yard fenced in bloody stone.
Long is the stay, short and narrow the exit,
twenty years the bargain.
“Pretty Boy” of luxurious wealth,
why the confident walk, sleep of deep beauty?
Do you not know today you marry?
Can you not see the dark of day?
Pain, Hate, and Death the proprietary priests,
mandating monarchies of red of grey walls.
Rape, overdoses, murder run rampant and free,
have you any money?
End of war cannot be, it has not begun,
there are no warriors, only lost victors.
Time is not known of,
for “time” is plentiful.
Writ of Habeas Corpus breathes of abysmal tangencies,
thick putrid air, crimson steel of sour peanut butter.
With heavy of hand frightened horrifying eyes write,
a tune of cruel beauty the fat lady cannot carry.
A toast – Black Deceit
by Curt Stowell
September 21, 1990