'ere it is.
"Blessed I, with dry and burning eyes", an essay in raver-poetry. posted without comments for now.
Blessed I, with dry and burning eyes,
Make deaf my ears with Hosts of gall
Such that I may not hear the cries,
Ignore the shrill and longing call
And spurn the doom of sleep.
Stand I before that sage of wretched art,
Who slays on sight my loving race,
Who knows not love within his heart,
And bears dark anguish on his face;
He sow'd; now may he reap!
For swords of Light I bear in hand,
My lips are touched with bitter taste,
Flow I therefore to sound's demand;
My soul is pure, my body chaste,
Though my mind is confounded.
Blinded he, with dark and reddened eyes,
That knight with hooded gabardine,
Who loathes my bright belov'd disguise
As I abhor his ketamine,
With stimulants compounded;
A flash of light streaks forth within
This dark and long-abandoned cell,
My strike of color made herein;
The drums sound out a deathly knell,
And bid my power outward surge;
Alas! his numb unfeeling heart,
Touched with powder'd suicide,
Cries out; I sense my strength depart;
I sense his words of genocide,
And fall before the pharmaturge.
"Blessed I, with dry and burning eyes", an essay in raver-poetry. posted without comments for now.
Blessed I, with dry and burning eyes,
Make deaf my ears with Hosts of gall
Such that I may not hear the cries,
Ignore the shrill and longing call
And spurn the doom of sleep.
Stand I before that sage of wretched art,
Who slays on sight my loving race,
Who knows not love within his heart,
And bears dark anguish on his face;
He sow'd; now may he reap!
For swords of Light I bear in hand,
My lips are touched with bitter taste,
Flow I therefore to sound's demand;
My soul is pure, my body chaste,
Though my mind is confounded.
Blinded he, with dark and reddened eyes,
That knight with hooded gabardine,
Who loathes my bright belov'd disguise
As I abhor his ketamine,
With stimulants compounded;
A flash of light streaks forth within
This dark and long-abandoned cell,
My strike of color made herein;
The drums sound out a deathly knell,
And bid my power outward surge;
Alas! his numb unfeeling heart,
Touched with powder'd suicide,
Cries out; I sense my strength depart;
I sense his words of genocide,
And fall before the pharmaturge.
