Crown-in-the-Muck - Kayo Dot

Nearby the moldering bridge and the stream that gushes from a fatal wound

The quiet town in its hallowed hollow, waking while still sleeping sound

Oblivious and dreaming, its people always dreaming

Of nothing and no one and nowhere worth speaking!

Oblivious and trivial, uncomplicated people

But the sun shone forth one Sunday morning

And stretched its arms toward the evening

And a beam of light fell on the stone

The black eye sleeping in an open grave

What is this thing?

the crying of the throng

This ugly thing upon the ground that smokes and

Smolders with a dismal sound?

A nightmare, infidelity!

An offensive darkling augury!

Shun this horror!

Shun this omen fallen in the night!

Only one awake, and one that hates

His very life

A poet’s soul

And a deeper sea

The stone bore waves into his mind

Seared his eyes and washed his hate away