those morons and the night of twelve

start with a fire outside the cave
those morons come around
lights of a feather’s grave
and what remaining are the bones
wheel to tire
the morons re-fire
hellish for the foulest
not the trash or that tree’s arm
it’s the will that create the warmth
laugh and the flame reach the sky
and the goddess cry
as the clown dramatize the poet
its jolt for the crowd!
as the dragon summon the lady
it’s a cheers for the party
Until the shine cover the cave
It’s the end of the fabulous night of twelve

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