Dark Poetry #3 |
Burn |
Exodus New Member
since 2003-04-14
Posts 5Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada |
And I have been changed by this night's rain... grown so estranged I drag weary down the haunted sands of time; for this is my life's end When the synchronistic cliches seem too surreal to see clearly I have tried christianity, bhuddism, even Islam... But when finding all my necromantic sacrifices -- their blood has been diluted Such milky veins wash, a rushing run -- i cry as they seep insanely draining throughout my mind. Riverrapids of bright bluewhite in my pitchblack thoughts flood my brain; the ink of my thoughts Yet even this chaotic delirium which I live seems somewhat estranged Yes... I seek a heart's blood -- with a desire pure and undeluded Into which I will etch my legacy, with the scalpel I hold... And slice open this crimson muscle; perform this task of damned fate Now I have seen armageddons rage ablaze, which are grill-barbecues with Black iron ash alters of carcoal briquette gods burning in summer-lawn-chairs... apocalypse Mesquite smoke entrails -- drip and sizzle -- (And what a tasty treat it shall be!) Surburban saturdays fresh-mowed dwellings stare deranged From the glow of television labotomies -- a darkness -- tinpan-brainfried idiots Skip a jumpdance slaghterhouse shuffle, in ever-deepening credit-line masses; trapped in doom. Under confusion's weight, I wander and wander as a drunken court jester... I wonder at wonders in the still crimson stagnate pools of glow and THIS! ...ridiculous! With this god's blind eye I wander astray on a path of anarchy. I live to have read the pages -- and scribed a thousand and one more -- of my morbid brain, And to remember each; for one reason, for all time; and it's deranged. Always weeping, always weeping, I hold my own heart... with distrust in my body. Good lord... open guts spill forth before me, and in each sickly wet fold I read; death. After which pours forth the milksblood of Christ... with a bitter loving smile. I try and shake this shadow you fear, ... Why am I so deranged? And one more modern miracle each day becomes useless But I'm not surprised, nor do i grow weary of every evening's apocalypse I feel the groove of each judgement day in this new heart So I walk on this life, like the spine of a fine occult tome Reflecting my past judgement, and past conciousness Inscribe these secret words I took, and title my satanic book 'Apocalypse' Yet dreaming still of a hope... Smile. Through the minds of many, and the souls of few... arises the entity of Exodus. Arrows of fire, swords of ice... the necromantic power of he shall des |
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© Copyright 2003 Jeremy Skibicki - All Rights Reserved | |||
iMMuNe Junior Member
since 2002-07-23
Posts 49Maine, USA |
Welp, I.....I honostly don't know what to say. Its kinda like "Greatness without structure" I liked it..but I dont know how to describe it. Oh..and welcome ! |
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Brad Majors
since 2001-04-03
Posts 2647Georgia |
I like the piece but it needs a tad restructuring to make it flow abit better. Overall good piece |
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qtpieelmo Senior Member
since 2000-07-04
Posts 989Sesame Street :) hee hee ,NY |
Great Job!! ELMO "No man is EVER worth my tears, and the one who is, will never make me cry!" |
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Jager Junior Member
since 2003-04-27
Posts 12Event Horizon |
I'm lost for words. |
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tornskirt Member
since 2003-03-30
Posts 87 |
amazing never leave the light on if you don't want to be found |
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