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A Poem of Archin

- by Archin



I just read a poem written about a fellow during the Victorian period, who reminded me of Archin.


The poem was written of Robert Lowe, by a fellow that didn't like him.

"Here lies poor old Robert Lowe; 


Where he's gone to I don't know; 


If to the realms of peace and love, 


Farewell to happiness above; 


If, haply, to some lower level, 


We can't congratulate the devil."



I thought I'd just switch some words around and angle it towards my louder half.

It's an epitaph:

"Here lies poor old Archin Brey 


His mouth finally has been stayed 


If the Light be his resting place 


Farewell to peace and quiet space; 


But if to darkness, he be left 


The Legion, forever, rendered deaf"

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