Stormchaser

I'm prepared for the apocalypse

Harvested praiseworthy proverbial pollen

And lost it all in a gust of wind

Augustus like gusto against the brute force of life

You can bury the tongue that speaketh but

My voices echo through these chambers like a poltergeist

Necro, philia or phobic

I ain't speaking Polish ain't moral policing either

Just a poet's portrayal of pure duality

Naturally, John Doe would live to fight another day

Storm chaser different

He pull up with cataracts for the eyes of the hurricane