swilow
Bluelight Crew
New-Sodom
Those that "lived"- breathed
the seething wastes beneath
the face ov thee skye
(her beauty marked forever).
The fossil record/ Akashik memorie
Utters to the future
a lesson less learned
as spurned
and perpetually forgotten.
They- who lived- took it all
Chancing no fall, or ascent
To heavens halls- preferring instead
to craft a half-heaven/half-hell
No knowing or caring if
purgatory was their home-plane
Angels that fell- freefall-into
nowhere (abzu) that exists-or-
if it did, dust embraced it
Long before their pathetic dreams
Dug its own grave
And buried itself.
And what of the children?
Or, that we all are the childe,
the great horror creeping
towards Bethlehem- razing Eden
In passing.
Were they deafened, whose place
was the Right Hand?
The trumpets did peal;
brassy tones; blasting through-
Perhaps so loud as to
Cloud thee minds?
Or is this all excuses
for the "people" who threw
it all
away?
And what is that indolence,
sweet yet sickly- smoking
and rising, fleet ov foote
towards Her scarred Face?
Is it the final end
of the half-life, demented by
self-obsessed lunatics?
Or is it Gomorrah in flames?
The answer-
lies not
in the pounding of breasts
But rests in the mirror-
Are you afraid to look?
What would Narcissus see?
-
The poignant weeping,
as life, Herself,
Cried out in pain
And was thus forgotten forever,
At the worlds end
That sages saw and lamented
And shuddered coldly
in their nightmare-dreams.
the seething wastes beneath
the face ov thee skye
(her beauty marked forever).
The fossil record/ Akashik memorie
Utters to the future
a lesson less learned
as spurned
and perpetually forgotten.
They- who lived- took it all
Chancing no fall, or ascent
To heavens halls- preferring instead
to craft a half-heaven/half-hell
No knowing or caring if
purgatory was their home-plane
Angels that fell- freefall-into
nowhere (abzu) that exists-or-
if it did, dust embraced it
Long before their pathetic dreams
Dug its own grave
And buried itself.
And what of the children?
Or, that we all are the childe,
the great horror creeping
towards Bethlehem- razing Eden
In passing.
Were they deafened, whose place
was the Right Hand?
The trumpets did peal;
brassy tones; blasting through-
Perhaps so loud as to
Cloud thee minds?
Or is this all excuses
for the "people" who threw
it all
away?
And what is that indolence,
sweet yet sickly- smoking
and rising, fleet ov foote
towards Her scarred Face?
Is it the final end
of the half-life, demented by
self-obsessed lunatics?
Or is it Gomorrah in flames?
The answer-
lies not
in the pounding of breasts
But rests in the mirror-
Are you afraid to look?
What would Narcissus see?
-
The poignant weeping,
as life, Herself,
Cried out in pain
And was thus forgotten forever,
At the worlds end
That sages saw and lamented
And shuddered coldly
in their nightmare-dreams.
