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THEKINGISDEAD980
Third day of Mucré, our King is in the forest A busy time to be a florist The mews and awnings like old prose florid To allergy sufferers abhorrent, torture ironical To the botanist, a much needed shot in the arm After a Winter boxed in, the gelidness like old sin Lingering long past its…
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Novena after the nuclear exchange
Using her last breath on a fickle rosary Fasting to the last Want for God’s love surpassing Even the harshest reality We look on with enmity, disguising jealousy Red beads, readings, pleadings, to the mercy of the lady of roses Kneeling by a roadside ditch, scrying the scarred sky for divine signs If she lives…
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Giving up my eyes
One eye I prized, outpryed Given for knowledge Access to that well Whose waters below hell Deeper delving, to the world’s wellsprings Wherein dwells cursed water worded by hidden things Worms ring it, gnawing at the roots of the world tree I drink it, gaining knowledge unworldly My once dull eyes are brought to a…
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Pulsing apocalyptic psychodrama
Schism rhythms Bloodied meridians Prison scions Incestuous offspring Cannibal offerings Familial orgyings Roman delinquency Widespread illiteracy New medieval Rebirth of evil Age of spider queens Rubbish in the streets Hanged seditionists swaying Once heaving busy quays Empty radioactive bays Long enough blade Put Ricard to shame Brains you’re eating Confer prion diseases Henges you’re raising…
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My role at ragnarok
The word in throat your highness The third toke chokes, high in this Back shed, pure in my defiance Spurning all alliance, turncloak My rage is age of iron, wroth Cold as Hoth my heart bound in iron confines Chains of great weight, as bade Fenrir stay Until the final, violent, schismal day, a dismal…
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