Our World
This is not a day for clear sky and sun
This is not a day for jubilant spring
This is not a day for summer drizzle
This is not a day for crisp snow
This is not a starlit night
This not a time for love and romance
This is a day of grief and mourning
She gave us a fertile world
What did we do?
We polluted her rivers and sea
We stole her precocious minerals
We befouled her scented air
We lay waste to her forests and land
We killed the fauna
Worst of all, we stole her beauty
DAVID’S LAMENT (FOR ABSALOM)
What voice is that beneath the wild thorn trees,
Where birds go up and broken branches swing?
Ah, words out of a dead mouth cannot reach
The ears of a waiting king!
And the frightened mule runs on alone,
Oh, Absalom, my son, my son!
Behold! And what a vision here I see
Before the frightened animal is met–
A figure hangs upon a tree,
With head befouled and bloody yet!
And the frightened mule runs on alone
Oh, Absalom, my son, my son!
It is a dreadful thing to lose
A son and heir so featured and so young,
And were it given me a head to choose
Mine own beneath that bough was hung!
But the frightened mule runs on alone,
Oh, Absalom, my son, my son!
Let him who thinks this death were somehow fair,
Let him give over kith and kin
To dangle upright by a hair
And be an awful plaything to the wind!
And the frightened mule runs on alone,
Oh, Absalom, my son, my son!
I see the coming ages yet unborn
Where kings from out my house take their stride–
And all within are capped by a crown of thorn
And bloodied at the side!
But the frightened mule runs on alone,
Oh, Absalom, my son, my son!
Sanctify me
for my heart heart is heavy
filled with anger and hatred
unwilling to forgive & forget
holding on to grudges and contentions
relieve me of this burden...OH LORD!
sanctify me
for my thoughts are impure
a corrupt mind that seeks to deceive
bad thoughts haunting me everyday
a pessimistic mind without faith
how long can l live like this?
Sanctify me
for my tongue is with venom
everything i say is poison
with every word that comes out of my mouth;
i can bring down mansions
woe to those who listen!
sanctify me
for my hands are dirty
desperation made me wild...touched the unholy!
now my hands are befouled
unworthy to serve you OH Lord!
sanctify me, so i can win your favor once again.
An impressionist’s pastel painting of the foe,
Releasing unheard sighs of a sinner’s woe,
Mere wisps of his charred and tainted soul,
His empty eyes resemble burning holes of eternal coal,
Seeing only deathly pale faces lined and worn,
While following an eerie voice full of spiteful scorn,
Leading him towards lost corners of insanity,
Where he’s bound to serve ‘til the death of eternity.
Eidolon creeps amongst the bonfires of hell,
Where wretched souls burn and spasm in this fiery cell,
Him, hidden in illusions his mind created the surreal,
Captured spirit behind solid bars of steel,
His timeless existence in oblivion and spoil,
Still climbing higher and higher, to where he lays,
Where Eidolon walks cloaked in sinful ways,
A cloak befouled and woven in sin:
A weeping widow’s rope-round-the-throat,
A drunkard’s drowned body a-float,
Greedy lord whom robbed the poorly,
A psycho who raped his first child, mercilessly,
Their damaged souls tarnish this cloak of sorrow.
(I know it isn't complete and it's kindda goosebump/nightmare material. Sorry about that.)
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The hate of time havocs foolish fate
And I, no one's blank slate
Will not my conscience hesitate
Or cast my eyes down at evening's gate.
You are neither victim nor demon since
You of your error is unconvinced
I am a child no more to wince
When white sheets of mind befouled are rinsed
I make my decisions without the noise
And cheap popularity's phony poise
But as humble I'd fear forfeit a sunrise
And have fool graffitied on unlighted eyes.
I have tried picking up time before
The past like frost from hoar
Had only present, and memory more
Than spite makes every pain a spore
I lost my mien I lost my unity
To the shadow of tartarus
Abided by the doom of iniquity
To the horde of vicious
Ached by the blamed chastity
To the blood of befouled gravitas.
I lost my alias I lost my faith
To the detainment of my goof
Abetted by the aphotic myth
To the trait lacked in proof
Copped by the dummy world so lyth
To the wraiths of swallowed truth.
I lost my anima I lost my chaste
To the roguish sprite
Plied by paroles jest
To the hearsays that parroted bright
Retained by the sight lest
Where I lost my being I lost ardor ignite.
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