Errant hearts and romantic love
Contrived with gracious sigh,
Commercialist appeasement
Brought forth to testify,
In the name of disparate despair
Redrawn with laboured class,
Sought out by those delinquent souls
Whose hearts have yet to pass,
Throughout a tangent, sombre sight
Blooded, wrought round woe,
To ease the vaudeville delight
Devised to overthrow,
The callous choral passages
That echo without note,
The barricades that fail to sate
Our love for prose as wrote,
By ignorant, contentious tears
Born from eyes despised,
As fickle fortunes fall upon
The souls who once denied,
Our right to sanction sacrilege
To repent in aid of grace,
The repetition tore from man
Whose mind remains displaced,
For unionists, republicans
All claim a chord once struck,
By Yeats and Joyce with
Raucous voice, they bore
Resistant thought,
To be devoid of fault and faith
Yet passively pronounced,
A stream of conscious apathy
That bitter men denounce,
For Christ the artist is forgot
While the righteous seek anew,
The pastures prized and sanctified
To serve the chosen few,
Whose seventh gate contemplates
The eighths, the ninths and tenths,
Toiling yearly alibis as
Heaven sent regret,
For time declines to set aside
This tactless languid ware,
Worn as strict castrating guides
To Asimov’s nadir,
For our zenith feigns the rule of one
To ingratiate our worth,
Within the silent servile chains
Romantic love deserves.
Contrived with gracious sigh,
Commercialist appeasement
Brought forth to testify,
In the name of disparate despair
Redrawn with laboured class,
Sought out by those delinquent souls
Whose hearts have yet to pass,
Throughout a tangent, sombre sight
Blooded, wrought round woe,
To ease the vaudeville delight
Devised to overthrow,
The callous choral passages
That echo without note,
The barricades that fail to sate
Our love for prose as wrote,
By ignorant, contentious tears
Born from eyes despised,
As fickle fortunes fall upon
The souls who once denied,
Our right to sanction sacrilege
To repent in aid of grace,
The repetition tore from man
Whose mind remains displaced,
For unionists, republicans
All claim a chord once struck,
By Yeats and Joyce with
Raucous voice, they bore
Resistant thought,
To be devoid of fault and faith
Yet passively pronounced,
A stream of conscious apathy
That bitter men denounce,
For Christ the artist is forgot
While the righteous seek anew,
The pastures prized and sanctified
To serve the chosen few,
Whose seventh gate contemplates
The eighths, the ninths and tenths,
Toiling yearly alibis as
Heaven sent regret,
For time declines to set aside
This tactless languid ware,
Worn as strict castrating guides
To Asimov’s nadir,
For our zenith feigns the rule of one
To ingratiate our worth,
Within the silent servile chains
Romantic love deserves.
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