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Adam Black Poem
armies pouring out of Mordor.
peaks of mass
our souls out of Albion
came Ether among us
& sought of the clovers
sweet sustenance, of ages past
& came sealing among us
ages of yonder missile among us
& all the sealing silence,
& all the cloves
cold Urchid horde
came down from Jupiter,
taught us the lies,
taught us the seeming.
seemed to woe at will,
seeking harmony and finding deceit,
finding only an empty hole
and the face spiralling down ash
into eternity
taught us frightening
and we freed wit the wit
secured us ye defenses
& we got fulcrum the awe
(and/or awl) like we
got agents of coves
and smurfer stuff than that, even,
got we plenty of tricks
to mate ye with,
mate
Copyright © Adam Black | Year Posted 2017
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Details |
Adam Black Poem
No-one can write a song that solves it all,
except for me, cause I'm the black prince.
Maw yawns and we're posed to fall
teeth gnash and we'll all be minced.
They ain't won the war,
it ain't hardly begun,
but unless you want your women to be turned into whores,
you'd better learn to fight,
and I don't mean with guns.
I mean culture's more powerful than might.
I mean games are for more than fun.
I mean you sing the song that they already know,
you love your lover and you love your bro
and into that night you don't gently go.
Imma keep on callin'; I'm the storm crow.
I bid ye band together,
gather sage and heather,
keep an eye on the weather,
and do right by God.
Don't worry bout whether He will spare the rod;
just do the best you can,
save the soul of your fellow man,
and speak the clearest truth you know.
Speak it from the mountain to the valley below.
Open window and open door,
give yourself to hope that leave you shook to the core,
and make your mind able to change.
Don't waste no time at no rifle range,
but open the book and write the page,
for the hook and the bait is the same as your rage
and the starling of peace is the word of the sage.
No-one can write a song that solves it all
except for me, cause I'm the black prince.
The pillars crumble and the capitol falls
and the earth's givnto folks who remember their sins.
Copyright © Adam Black | Year Posted 2017
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Details |
Adam Black Poem
We sweet children
who came in from the storm
(smoke & lantern hung from roof-beam)
(lashed by frigid torrent; black moor)
came trembling to the foot of your chair
and your eyes flashed & flamed like Death
and you stared at the wall.
Copyright © Adam Black | Year Posted 2017
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