T. M. Lakomy

“For the wanderer astray, the hermit seeking the lost booksTo him the bitter path of knowledge is truly germaneAnd to gaze at the grand canvas of depravity, the deified crooksAll the depth of duplicity of the celestial rulers most profane.”

“If I rolled the dice carved out of my weathered boneAnd offered of my blood the libation to the faneWhen even the reaper’s mockery forsakes me aloneMy own clangorous thoughts are the last to remain”