Post by Veoughtis Isious Grimm on May 23, 2011 6:17:32 GMT -6
The Dawn erupted with escapades of golden rays,
The Night relieved by the lights reprieve,
Such gentle breeze that danced the trees
As the children awake from their Dusk induced dreams,
The Sand of the Land shimmered silver with approval
As the clouds softly speak of purples and pinks,
Such divine malign against the miseries the darkness brings,
But all is at peace in such a lovely retreat,
The Medicine Men treat wounded limbs,
The Children play with outcries of a new born day,
The cattle be startled and to the grazing they tend,
The Elders shuffled from their shacks in age ridden parades,
Hunters took to the hills in hopes of snakes,
Women plucked the trees for treats of dates,
Small fires in the homes for bread to bake,
All common foods for an average day,
My skeletal body is betrothed by a black tattered robe,
Frosted breath I invest by labored wheezing breasts,
With tired eyes I watch this mass,
For I have found what I have searched for many years past,
I stand on the sand of the shifting duns,
My presence detected by such a small few,
Whos view is askew and blamed on a miragemic delude,
Look as they might, they will not see my contrasting protrude,
I start upon this cheerful flock,
Doors fling open without prompt or nock,
But these people do not conceive the terror they bare,
They only see what cannot be:
Hinges lead to creak by their own decree,
My travel causes the land no indent,
As heavy I be with ill-intent,
And my image is hidden from human sight,
No matter how the day is bright,
Groups casa'ly avoid me by pure instinct,
With only primal knowledge of why they do this,
For my touch is that of deaths own kiss,
And contact from the body causes life to retract,
Here at last, the House of Fools,
"He sees more than the profane which lead him insane"
So they claim, but the one in the Home
By him I am known,
No more than babbling bones lie on the cobblestones,
Behind iron bars, is the Dreamers faux pas,
I hear the common phrase that the Nightmares embrace,
They will rise when once again the stars are right,
With a whisper in his ear his eyes open in fear,
But he reacts not to my speech nor my cause,
Dark secrets I feed to an unstable mind,
In panic and diatribe I leave him behind,
Outside the House; dread the peoples eyes tell,
And the beginnings of night long screaming erupt from the cell,
The occupants gather by the sound of towered bells,
And priests stand tall to comfort the mobs,
And I think:
"How dare you stand so proud yet be sold by the pound,
Revisions for the times just to buy a more perfect lie,
I am the poetic profit of an ill-faded pulpit,
With the sign of the Ancient Ones high on its corset",
Extracted from the city the wailing still persisting,
"Sing my feral pet in duress",
a though my mind gladly arrests,
The road to my abode is plagued by a heatly load
And half way there a serpent raises its back for an attack,
How could it be that this creature can see me?
But then a prize relinquished its disguise and
A spear found its place on the back which was raised,
Just a little too close, a touch and a choke,
And the hunter fell as well like the snake in the sand,
No human eye may lie upon my home,
For it would disgrace the soundest of minds,
Its geometry is purely the vanity of insanity,
And the rotten stench is that which will clench the mind of all proper design,
The bodies fall clustered in groups upon each other,
The entrails left unheld and slick on my skin,
I lay my head on my bed of the dead,
And rest through the day for the night that I wait.
The Night relieved by the lights reprieve,
Such gentle breeze that danced the trees
As the children awake from their Dusk induced dreams,
The Sand of the Land shimmered silver with approval
As the clouds softly speak of purples and pinks,
Such divine malign against the miseries the darkness brings,
But all is at peace in such a lovely retreat,
The Medicine Men treat wounded limbs,
The Children play with outcries of a new born day,
The cattle be startled and to the grazing they tend,
The Elders shuffled from their shacks in age ridden parades,
Hunters took to the hills in hopes of snakes,
Women plucked the trees for treats of dates,
Small fires in the homes for bread to bake,
All common foods for an average day,
My skeletal body is betrothed by a black tattered robe,
Frosted breath I invest by labored wheezing breasts,
With tired eyes I watch this mass,
For I have found what I have searched for many years past,
I stand on the sand of the shifting duns,
My presence detected by such a small few,
Whos view is askew and blamed on a miragemic delude,
Look as they might, they will not see my contrasting protrude,
I start upon this cheerful flock,
Doors fling open without prompt or nock,
But these people do not conceive the terror they bare,
They only see what cannot be:
Hinges lead to creak by their own decree,
My travel causes the land no indent,
As heavy I be with ill-intent,
And my image is hidden from human sight,
No matter how the day is bright,
Groups casa'ly avoid me by pure instinct,
With only primal knowledge of why they do this,
For my touch is that of deaths own kiss,
And contact from the body causes life to retract,
Here at last, the House of Fools,
"He sees more than the profane which lead him insane"
So they claim, but the one in the Home
By him I am known,
No more than babbling bones lie on the cobblestones,
Behind iron bars, is the Dreamers faux pas,
I hear the common phrase that the Nightmares embrace,
They will rise when once again the stars are right,
With a whisper in his ear his eyes open in fear,
But he reacts not to my speech nor my cause,
Dark secrets I feed to an unstable mind,
In panic and diatribe I leave him behind,
Outside the House; dread the peoples eyes tell,
And the beginnings of night long screaming erupt from the cell,
The occupants gather by the sound of towered bells,
And priests stand tall to comfort the mobs,
And I think:
"How dare you stand so proud yet be sold by the pound,
Revisions for the times just to buy a more perfect lie,
I am the poetic profit of an ill-faded pulpit,
With the sign of the Ancient Ones high on its corset",
Extracted from the city the wailing still persisting,
"Sing my feral pet in duress",
a though my mind gladly arrests,
The road to my abode is plagued by a heatly load
And half way there a serpent raises its back for an attack,
How could it be that this creature can see me?
But then a prize relinquished its disguise and
A spear found its place on the back which was raised,
Just a little too close, a touch and a choke,
And the hunter fell as well like the snake in the sand,
No human eye may lie upon my home,
For it would disgrace the soundest of minds,
Its geometry is purely the vanity of insanity,
And the rotten stench is that which will clench the mind of all proper design,
The bodies fall clustered in groups upon each other,
The entrails left unheld and slick on my skin,
I lay my head on my bed of the dead,
And rest through the day for the night that I wait.