PenDragon and Lady Day

As I dodged oppressing rules
Maneuvering, fighting against suppression of my privacy
I found myself surviving on a deserted island
Which I sometimes refer to as Minos
My house is a magnificent palace
Exterior is one mighty baroque marvel
Doors made out of thick solid marble
Divide a maze of long clean hallways
Entrails sparkle full of triple-nine gold flakes
And mercury runs through platinum tubes of the pavilion
As precious bullion boils for tomorrow's bouillon
Flaming heat puffs chilling clouds of sorrow and grief
Sleepless Rosy Cross Lamen lays on linen sheets
Lamenting sullen lyrics, cloaking six-foot brick of cold concrete
Torsion springs weave cold rings around poles
Blasters shoot lasers through torso, burn flesh, reaching bones
Accompanied by haunting discord of crow's croaks
Enigmatic tones resembling painful groans
Creep from the silent attic -
Erratic noises scrape chromatic wounds over wallpapers of axiomatic semantics
As systematic wind blows up dust dunes into melodramatic schisms
Reflecting mood of the bare room
A chained rhyme freely swims between monotonous schematic tunes

Dim lights sleep in deep dreadful swamps of the eyes
Distant beacon signals the house of white nights
Urging the dark truth of the soul to awaken inside
In the violent misery of quiet twilight
In a wild violet garden next to an abandoned terrace
Above my heavy head melts aurora borealis
Shadow rays form curtains
Patches in no time cross most surface
Mystical hyphens turn into gates
Holes in space curve arcs into diadems
As coronas diverging from single point start rising
Horns of the enraged iron bison brutally bore funnels in flesh of the weeping lion
Mad Russian lad living in a French colony refused to adopt their Vulgar Latin
Instead, his voice chose to crawl outta the grave of Lord Byron
Who would've thought, another George dwells in the same silence of heart
Missing daylight
For the most part
Dedicating poems to his elegant damsel, occasionally throwing doomsday darts at pale
distorted masks of napping politicking Bonapartes'

As love's last resort
Diligent student of John Dee's concocting poetry in his darkest hour
Dormant dayworker dreams of dancing dainty Daisy, dissolving daily diabolical dolor
Daunting destiny drops derisory dice to decipher
At dusk
Delirious dozy Deadman dares to double down - demanded donation's a dollar
Determined to defend delicate Dandelion deviant diver decides - deal's done
Disfigured dealer delivers devil's dozen, distraught dawn draws deadline - day's over
Devil's devious dividend - duped depressed donor
As devout daysman defeats death dueling dragon, decrepit dilettante drowns drinking deadly downer
At distance
Dignified drowsy daydreamer designs dramatic dionysian drafts dedicated to delightful Dayflower
Deal's a deal -
Deathly deuces, dull déjà vus, and demanding doubters
Or
Dicey detours, deserved dream, and deus ex machina

Let me say goodbye to what can't be kept
What can't be returned by forks pinning wrists to a chair channeling chilly current
Let me gift last word to what can't be brought back
As bleak spark plugged memory fries screen in deep sorrow of honest disbelief
Replaying screams of deceitful truth in the last moment's shocking grief
Let me resume watching how the burning star dies
How its engine sinks down the ocean's floor
As breath's eternal moan flies mourning over the world rowing into shadows behind closing door