Monday, June 6

This is my Golgotha

There’s a hurly-burly in my heart
Making the bucklers I apply incorporeal
The dunnest wracks pall me

When foul seems fair
And all my rights wronged
Petty runnions are oblivious to my gentry

The folly I bared;
I have exposed my coin of vantage,
Like sponge were these supposed buttress

The friends I knew were felly-hungered
They strike ‘gainst me when I’m down
Oblivious to my bounteousness

With the fetch of wit did use
To their gain
For them a Solomon of resources

My heart is down gyved
The agents of Cautel clouded to wrap
Colleagues in evenhanded indifference

This is my Golgotha
With dismal visage mime I, a scene
A scene of dun fume

The dun which palls
Whose agents of Cautel grin like skulls
Their world in it, I no room

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