CARPETBAGGER

When the night enters its dewy decent
The carpetbagger descends
Planting mossy seeds
Outstretched in the moon's coolness
He feels it home
Destiny
Which he wears so
Deceptively
Well
On every occasion
So many names, years
Spelt out by the unlettered muse
Greed
The man with no home
In need
Of schemes
With twisted fingers feeling
At befuddled eyes
Left in the wake
Of his passing seasons
Oh lustful one
Roll not your carpet in my house
Pack not your bags
In my line of sight
Lest ye shed
Blood
Most deserved...

Tony Taylor