There’re theories to prove
And hearts to disquiet
There’re artistic talent to be established in the military
Detailing the fustian pleasances and odd
Acerbic tendencies of the late twentieth century:
to share his poetry with someone special
who would share theirs, as well
Like hell
Like hell
Muting thoughts
Obscuring logic
Diffusing whispers
Into inaudible indigo
The soul’s languid murmuring:
Pleas of breathless azure burning
Only the dreams that left
Us laughing on the cobalt cobblestone
Albrecht turner loved the faintly illicit
And when it came ending too soon
He was still singing to it
As he blew one last kiss past the moon
To share his poetry with someone special
Who would share theirs, as well
Like hell
Like hell