Part of a Poem

I am the reflection of lavender-tipped flame,
licking like humbert at one's window pane.
I am the smudge of dead sooty lust,
in a pile of ashes, in a whisper of trust.

A thin vener of Present reality spread
upon eveything percieved--a spider's sitcky web.
Quell curiosity, loiter not Past's iron-wrought gates,
Please heed the tired call of future's fancy fate.

Transparent things, through which the past shines,
and opalescent future like a mewling bitch whines.
Stay present. Stay Present! Dream phoenix flamed fast,
and rise like a Haze of frozen fog's past.

Have I mentioned the fire, and the choking black smoke?
It reminded me of a pretty red Zemblan Royal coat.
And total composure in the face of total death!
and Triple Totality realized, too late, one last breath.

If Charlotte lying dead on the peaceful green grass,
were to jump with a twitch, proclaim with a gasp--
"Oh Hell! what do mine eyes with grief behold?"
Pangs of mysterious mental maneuver--quite bold.

That evil little child, she led me astray,
to a sad frozen lake on a cold snowy day.
the risks scoundrels take when pontificating past,
before you walked on water, now you sink so fast!.....