A king’s cry

the dissolving cloud of innocence

the reality of a bent smile

the echoes of a king’s cry


Black scarfs and feathered hats

the ground is a rock
but a sponge
on which I bounce,
along strings of rubber
faint elasticity
dragged between seconds
this silent planet
my lone soul

the flowers are on the grave
the whispers of the living
black scarfs
feathered hats,
the shadows of hate
standing around your halo
in black coats and long dresses
watching the fall of the sun

Their tongues hymn empathy,
but spit darts of poison
with their feigned smiles,
the scent of your soul
the blood from your heart,
clotted within their nails
so I know,
that before the next sunrise,

shall they come after me
with shinning scythes,
under a hollow moon,
like grey hounds,
their beastly nails tearing the ground beneath
to face this heart of a dark soul
blackened by rage

the monster I have become
with every breath from my lungs
the power in my blood
the fall of a star,
into an abyss of vengeance
with the sun still after a twilight
casting a shadow of death,
over their foul faces


Tatters of trust

The blades of betrayal cut deep,
Through the fabrics of the heart

A world never the same again
Contrastive, a true self revealed

The hypocritical roses of love,
Lying in these webs of deceit,

Lured by soft words of a smooth tongue
To be broken at the cliff of bliss

Now, fallen to the dark world of the unforgiving,
A vindictive soul garbed in tatters of trust

The masters

Rivers of sorrow
Valleys of shattered souls
Stolen childhoods, 
Self interests of the masters

Beastly hunger,
Rewarded narcissism
Luncheons of meat and wine,
Decaying flesh and blood

Tainted,  fine fabric,
Disgusting games of folly
Echoes of hypocritical laughter,
On neatly furnished wood

And hidden gold daggers,
Windowless stone houses
An assassination burglary,
Lone dark nights, long

And clothed in honor,
veiled in arrogance
Despicable faces,
Masked with expensive makeup

suffocating perfumes,
A rising air across the gold mines
The soulless humans
The slave masters of the century

within wooden frames

Blinding light, deafening echoes,

Suffocating breath, a burning taste,

And a freezing breeze,

Into the unknown, swirling, infinite thoughts

Deluded, by love, and beauty,

Malicious smiles, tender words

Stabbed, hypocrite, arrogant,

Her fine robe, high soles

Luscious lips, her kiss of death,

                Warm, and cold, dying

Sucking, his life force, an ending breath

A heart stolen, and now, freezing,

Buried, in hate, and yet,

Undead, looped in the past,

Faint ink, on a lover’s canvas,

Psyched, trapped, within, the wooden frames


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