Diaries Of Primeval Tragedies

Angry are the clouds which anesthetize

Former besetting episodes of assertive pain

An overwhelming blend of harmonious mirth & awe

Proclaims with much pride-dawn's out bursting rage

Cometh ye all astounded faces

I plea to thee-hear me now or nevermore

Poor puzzled pieces of human wreckage

Your wounds of heart & soul may heal-when shared

Surround me with your precious presence

My only request for now-is your dearest patience

Cull the words which portray your might

From miserable tiny pebbles-to stones of awesome sights

From rotting pallets filled with mold & mice

From grey hidden corners contaminated by the diseases of the soul which

dies

Red shiny ink spills our luxuriant opera on-yellow dusty pages

Bathe with sweet nectar flowing from-aching mind-cages

Looking back-glaring at life

All these years of death-from Christs murderous knife

The drought which, bit by bit, gnawed our pride-

Insulting holy lies which poisoned meadows of the true dark-guide

Absorb with joy-the sweet new blood

Filling every heart-beat and instincts-slumber yet starved

Find me your poets, bring forth your bards

Let them sing kisses of evil to other world-parts

I can hear the owl recite

Diaries of primeval tragedies which confide

Truth & knowledge of matters we must tend

In theaters of witchcraft-we pretend

The craving of dreams to form the prophecy

Open vein-shaped roads resembling our complex-conspiracy

The rythem of the march excite to tears in our eyes

Don't other dare bark towards us-lest we rid them like flies

See my trembling cut open fingers

They remind me of the incredible secret which still lingers

Free yourself from all those lies which are told so often

For now our referendoms web-is catiously woven

Follow that trail left by the witches-most dark & pale

Embellish poetry in veins to breed-

Together to submerge & sublimely-bleed

Restless retch anchors of holy clay

And gather triumphs to harvest in the golden fields of may