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B.L. Walker Poem
Kings of the frigid tundra. WE ARE LORDS OF THE ARTIC. Sea lions and penguins fear us with a royal passion. We dine on the husks of the lost and left behind. With the crushing power of our jaws we smash asunder any victim lost in our hunger. The Gods of winter have given us the white robes of lordship, our fur pure and powerful. The winter is our rule and we march to shout of of our own horn. 1200 pounds of pure force, the ice crushes under the force of my paws as i gallop across the tundra. Men call us Polar bears but we are known by the gods by our true name, Thalarctos.... The Sea Bear.
Copyright © B.L. Walker | Year Posted 2017
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B.L. Walker Poem
The king and his concubines,The master and his slave, the lord and his servants, the sickle and the grave. Far be it for me to deny the power of the everlasting Source. It feeds the the universe and starves the planets. Centrifical force pushes my mind to the brink of eternity, tap dancing on the wooden floors of insanity. The sun rises and i feel the power of the day, beating upon my skin like hot lava pouring over a mountain top in a distant galaxy upon the face of a lifeless planet. With the war- torn wings of an Angel I soar across the sky, scorching the clouds with the blood of my Ancestors. My shout is like the roar of a thousand lions and in my hand i clutch the cursed blade of Nosfaratu. Looking to devour and destroy the evil that so easily besets me......
Copyright © B.L. Walker | Year Posted 2017
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B.L. Walker Poem
As i sit in the corner of My room and imagine myself not being myself, i am comforted by the simple taste of my favorite burning spirit, pushing down the road of perdition looking for solace in the sun. The moon grants me passage into the night of dreams and i dive head-first into a pool of colorful beings all happy at my arrival. They offer me limitless amounts of sweet nectar from a sour source. And as i gaze into the oblivion of bliss i feel the power of my ancestors erupting in me, making me devour the darkness of past lives lost to brutality and evil. Their voices quietly shout to me in a chorus of moans and groans, echoing like the sounds of lost souls in a deep cavern of despair. Whips and chains attack my brain in hopes of capturing my mind and enslaving it into a lifetime of indentured servitude to the "Father of Lies". He lingers and plots in hopes that i fall and loose my desire for light and life. But at the day of my birth i was given a sword more mightier than any man-made blade forged by clay hands. My blade devours the soul and sets the the weakest of minds on fire. My blade dashes to pieces the fallen Sons, splits asunder the evil ones, and destroys the darkest of worlds....
Copyright © B.L. Walker | Year Posted 2017
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