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IDOLS OF CHAGRIN Celtic Frost What kind of race, lack of direction Just how lunatic, to have a nature so deceitful Bewail my reverie, a gambol untried Lure of carnality and silence in forfeit Animals, enslaved to pearls of fictionalized worth Creatures, born from caves into simulated mirth I'm talking, Idols of Chagrin, journey into fear Born of possession, complacence in disguise Craving and candid, as to defy the character's fall The kisses you drain, pedestrian pedigree the Moonlight What's thought is pain might be desire after all. (Contributed by =Ae= - December 2013)


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