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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: A Fire! A Knife! A Black Crows Call!dots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: HisNameIsNoMore
    ASL Info:    28 - Male - Ohio
    Elite Ratio:    3.09 - 75/182/211
    Words: 375
    Class/Type: Poetry/Dark
    Total Views: 425
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2342



    Description:
       


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsA Fire! A Knife! A Black Crows Call!dots
    -------------------------------------------



    Mockery...

    Ripping through the daily paper clad in white columns filled with black tar like the words spoken from a corrupted witnesses alibi.
    A cut a sharp slice to the right, crimson spilling through the seeping lies spread at dawns first light.
    Society has fed us crow, just little slips of neurotic toxins and overrated depression medication.
    Are we willing to set aside that looming sadness inside? Oh god why did that child die?
    Powdered faces of security just skeletons fishing for and selling our own torments back to us.
    Static smack that T.V. maybe despite the scrambling feet below us we can stop and see through the god damn crimes.

    Mockery...

    Wretched violence exploding just to get away...
    Chasing a fable that we will be saved...
    A knife that slices away putrefaction, a crumbling leper takes his final bow.
    Black crows call, feeding us worms and wires.
    Forever sealing our home deep in a hole, feeding on what feeds on us.
    A continuous scream that causes nothing but contortion of our own failures.

    Mockery...

    Love and passion are misplaced, confused and rerouted into a ses-pool of lusting convulsions.
    Hold the hand of someone close to you, despite that lingering taste on your lips, just hold on tight and prepare for the impact.
    Black suits, red and blue ties all mean nothing in a gathering of liars.
    You're ideals are based off nothing but self need.
    Snake oil peddlers have worked our senses, just splitting us between the legs like a diseased whore in the dark.
    Whatever becomes of me and you will be nothing compared to what the future will chew.

    Encroaching waste of time, I hear the sky call out every night.
    A pen struck ink on the back of a man broken by a lack of dreams.
    The constitution torn and tossed aside, paper confetti just to celebrate the vanity inside reason.
    Inspired to be something else?
    Easy said than done, yet...

    This is just a mockery of our life.

    A fire! Oh how it burns desire.
    A knife! Oh how it divides our empire.
    A black crow calling! He harks a warning that we are all damned to repeat our misguided senses.




    Submitted on 2010-03-09 18:39:59     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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