The Lady & Lord of Misrule

PeaceMay your bed be in silence

That folds around you like egg whites in a meringue 

Like the shaving foam cream from a 1970’s school pudding

That muffles and warms your rest

But then, cloying suffocating and lack of breath

Can bring you to the surface again, gasping.

And longing for the rich brocades of dances that made mathematical patterns on deep red rugs and shining parquet

Rejecting the plastic generation

Taking off your housecoat of nylon shame

And standing naked before camber wick

Longing for the day when a robe of silk or velvet were enveloping and toes were bare and blushed with cold

To rub along a man’s back deep in that slumberous feather bed

Wild hair, no lacquer known and deep growls

Render you the lady of misrule

Pearls of wisdom drip from your lips and no necklace contains your throat

Your voice unfettered rings out chimes the thoughts of your day and your deep deep truth

And your laugh, no one stifles your laugh

You are the lady of misrule and no Lord has ever ruled or will

But still a fine companion he has been that match for match has made your world spin

To and from him you dance but you are always in each other’s circle

And fools are they who see anything less than the connections you make together

That keeps the world going aware of its precipitation or warmth

From writhing within your deep silence and abandon of convention

Your brocade rubs and velvet smoothes your skin erupts

You keep your appointment holding strings of truth you will both tell the outside world

As is your whim who goes and dons the robes of prophecy

And puts forth, it can only be one at a time it cannot be together

Emerges to decree

The weather from their home on the mantelpiece

To the ignorant hordes who know not that in their midst

The Lord and lady of misrule take their pleasure and disdain their subjects worship


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