They may come and go says Samael, so sayeth the wiccan prince who some say too ushers in hell, but hell is reserved for the iniquitous and the evil, where tortured until they are ash, is the only white steeple, the comely few who verily detest when mothball mouths are not cottonmouth bassets the silly strummed up wheat, which pervades the day when the heat is nigh on noon complete, the southern seer, grampy to some, has black boys and girls this Samael sung.
Semi-longed-about tales that rip apart the holiest grails, and shower the besmirched with real gold who knows how much silver is with that gold! A coppery patina is all over the copper plates they are dated Egyptian and seen much waste, yet why do you not ask the river bend? When friends are coming and money spent? Does the sleek shimmer in the night, conjure ghosts which oft delight? Does the sun upon daybreak curse the puppy small the meals disbursed? The river aims not true north as the north star plays on lyres striking lightening bolts on open paidby waitlocks on other staves.
The missing letters are feared lost better calls shrieked into the mossy night where hovering the moon delights, in wolfish cries and another bursts the devil called and answered Ms. Hearst so while the nighttime day's mirror... cries are heard! They said that amber was a rock no more, for if serendipitously defined then hulking over the river is the divestment of the vines, but modern day America hasn't won the currency war, the Euro has it's place ensured, and though we wile through rows of corn our hearts aflutter as others mourn, be crisp beneath that blotted out apple tree, the asylum loves apple juice for free.
Against those throes of untimely demises that Hormel chili should usher in surprises, or so the weapon goes to the kiln where kilts affray melt ire still, but beside the moon, that heavenly crest shan't ring new tones, the silent rest, whereupon one green stamp made this here, reap and commala like times past my dear, where one thing never finds Ms. Garland and another may leave her, is it simply constructed or beaten and beleaguered? I beat the metal hot and strong, but saintly serpents proved them wrong, the energies aglow like fires unkempt, the hearth and mantel heavens lent them and showered the earthly with cures galore a poor poet's boy, Aurora's demure.
like the rock for the centipede
or the shell for the hermit
take refuge under the moon
as the world goes quiet.
with silence like a serpent
taking shelter from the wet ground
anchor in gratitude
for the day that was had.
amidst your silenced tongue
there are sentences waiting to be spoken.
amongst your alienated adversities
awaits acceptance.
The clandestine creep
Started with a grandiloquent speech
And his surreptitious subterfuge
Has everyone confused
He said "Now grapple with the apple"
He said "has God really said"
Did God really mean that if you eat of it
You will end up dead?
The clandestine creep
Is after Jesus’ sheep
And His hands will reap
And He will forever keep
He attempts to rival God
Even walked where God trod
He attempts to corrupt things everywhere
He is the prince of the power of the air
Once the anointed luminary
Once light, until he was found contrary
Parading as an angel (as one of the guise)
To gain converts for the lord of the flies
Not as an aesthete, he steals
Instead of enjoying what God reveals
He realizes as bell’s knells, as the bell peals
He’s an A.I. of God that never kneels
An artificial insubordinate (A.I.)
Unfortunately, you are real
You’re the Godzilla to mankind
With our blunders we must deal
Once he had one he wanted to constrict it, like a boa; a python, to hold closely guarded the thing for which demure closets stay closed like iron-waitresses pervading the hostel with lime-light the lemony-snickett cackling in the born-and-bred flames, curling irons prod the paper-clip open but the stamp endures, a timid interred girl beghosts the earls. The favorite simple plan, favored in heavens gamma, where brightness surely waits in pavilion the concert. My concerto is made-man italian, the devise impregnated, like hollow bells that sour, the grim sugar from said waitress, we wildly call the crows to set and chime on the lines where workmen craft blue ribbons atop the farmland graves.
I like gita, so am I Ra, displaced field, you sow the sod, the undue passage is left here as a message, the messiah of goodness has left us a passage, clearly the light at the end of the tunnel leads out, like spinnails in curtains and an inordinate stop, the sign painted red heralds the fellows, broken deaf mutes, palaver with others. The sun god opens verses biblical like butter, this too spreads that sornet the beddum of hellers.
I have a serpent painted on my ear,
It always tells the truth I want to hear;
“O, how much you have suffered,” it will say,
“To become so beautiful on this day.”
Upon a time I learned to listen well,
To all the stories it has learned to tell,
“You were born beautiful within your laughter,”
Although I wonder what it is after?
I have a serpent painted on my ear,
It has spoken truths I have come to fear,
Upon a time I learned to listen well,
To all the stories it has learned to sell.
Fading flames of fervour have extinguished my once fervent fight for fulfilment and a bright future.
My future lies ahead dead, stone cold dead and lifeless, no chance for a revival- yes you heard what I said.
Waning wishes have worn down my willpower, leaving me lost in a weary wasteland.
No direction home, no guiding star from above, only a dark, perilous void filled with bitterness and regret.
Stripped of my spirit, devoid of hope- this lost soul cannot float.
I'm drowning, while you only describe the water to me.
Watching my former self silently suffer, as soulless serpents slither by.
Ignoring my cries, drifting further from my dire circumstances.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The river bends, but never breaks~
a silver serpent swallowing stones.
Yet even water wears them down,
whispering secrets to their bones.
Through Darkness You Travel,
The Knight, who is carried by the Sun and Moon.
I reach my hand to touch yours,
Through the symbols and runes
I feel your Soul,
Projected from the depths of your Heart.
Suddenly, we hear the Dark One whisper;
The pain we feel in this abyss,
Shall awaken the Serpent
That sleeps in the Underworld.
I reach my hand to touch yours,
And ask you to walk with me,
Towards the Gates of Your black Kingdom.
As the Serpent Rises,
We proceed to the opening.
Hand in Hand we enter the Gates.
As we love and embrace,
Our Stars shine as Bright as Lucifer,
The Dark One once more whispers;
No need to seek, as it is Here!
Always been and will be.
Here! This Present Moment!
Saklas, the fool who within his heart of indulgence
Whispers: “There is no god greater than me”
Coiling and consuming himself in self-indulgence
Isn’t he like that voice in you and me
Samuel, the blind idol who proclaims to the world
Roaring loudly “There is no god but me”
His roars thundering within the cosmic underworld
Isn’t he like that voice in you and me
The serpent begets nothing god-like or natural
The lion just dims light for you and me
Sneaking arrogance and boastful vainglory coiled up as one
Pride, wisdom’s veil and denial of the humble Son
The serpent and lion are coiled up as one, for us to see
Yaldabaoth, the idol of pride and wisdom’s folly
Walking through the forest
Feeling a serpent bite
Open wound and blood
Pouring like a flood
Poison trying to settle in
Rushed to the hospital
Didn’t die
Pain agony
Couldn’t walk at that second
Emergency protocol’s took place
Poison taken out
Patched up and hospital release
Still didn’t die
The serpent bite still on my mind
Death seemed imminent
Could have been a conclude
It became soothe
The thought of Adam and Eve biblical serpent
Heavens prove
Deliverance in transcend.
DEAR FRIEND,
THE END IN FRIEND HITS THE DEEP END,
THE SHADOW I USED TO DEFEND,
AT PRESENT I HAVE NONE TO DEPEND,
ITS AS IF ALL YOU DID WAS PRETEND.
DEAR FRIEND,
WITH THE SHADOWS OF YOU I SPENT,
ALL YOU LEFT WAS A PAINFUL DENT,
CURRENTLY ALL I CAN DO IS VENT,
LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO SERPENT.
DEAR FRIEND,
I NOW HAVE NO TEARS LEFT TO CRY,
YOU HAVE LET MY FEELINGS DIE,
YOU WERE NEVER TRUTHFUL TO ME, YOU LIE!,
I HAD TO WAVE YOU GOODBYE
DEAR FRIEND,
I THANK YOU FOR ONE THING,
FOR TEACHING ME FRIENDSHIP CAN STING,
I AM THE ONE I HAVE TO CLING,
GRATEFUL YOU'RE NOT HERE THIS SPRING.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.