Shields and swords are stronger than bone
Don't let them deceive you
rip their flesh
its not but mesh
Don't let them deceive you
Shields and swords are stronger than bone
it's into the storm you go
keep the faith
don't you quake
Shields and swords are stronger
Shield and sword
into the storm
stop their advance
bone will fail
when struck with steel
Don't let them deceive you
Shields and swords will never fail
push back the line
the city will Burn
if the enemies not turned
so rip their flesh
smash their bone
rip their flesh
destroy their homes
Shields and Swords are stronger than Bone
Don't let them deceive you
Don't let them deceive you
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 6:35 PM UTC
It took two weeks
And a morphine drip.
It took two full weeks...
To banish cobwebs,
fire up the furnace
and burn your remains.
We watched the cinders settle like snowflakes.
Drove down to the old place and kicked the door in.
Turns out the old man was nothing more than a boar.
Scurry through a maze like rats,
all you will say is "I hate robbing Banks."
By then its two late, take the shot.
It took two weeks
And a morphine drip.
Peace of mind, is all I ever wanted.
Feb 7, 2011
Feb 7, 2011 at 11:17 AM UTC
Galleria Santa Monica,
White wash walls,
High ceiling, dim lights.
Bunch of ******
In black and glasses peruse.
Three feature pieces,
Tamed Dames of the big city.
A bit gruesome, but they love the realism
Or so they say as they cringe.
Wine, almost as sweet
As the nectar of life fills the room.
Licking my lips, gaze drifting
Her smile crashes into me.
Sweet cherry blouse hides
A golden badge.
Jan 27, 2011
Jan 27, 2011 at 5:57 PM UTC
She passed me on the street,
My next masterpiece that is.
Five foot eight, brown hair, baby blue eyes.
Darling angel with a big smile.
She deserved nothing less than a
Dark alley flash of steel lights out.
Pure simple, quick.
Sitting posed against the wall,
Red letters spell her fate.
What she is many will know,
What she gave me I will show.
Jan 27, 2011
Jan 27, 2011 at 5:56 PM UTC
Red lips
Scarlet scarf
Sitting in the park.
Innocent, sweet pigtails.
Beacon in the darkness.
Screams with no answers,
Ecstasy in red water.
With rope and rusted hooks,
Posed like the divine devil.
Forty lashes to the front
Paints her black and red gown.
Jan 27, 2011
Jan 27, 2011 at 5:55 PM UTC
I knew this pretty rave girl
Always thought about her
The way she danced,
The way she purred.
Her skin tight red dress,
Offering no resistance.
Knocked out and gagged.
Red leather and chains,
A flattering position.
A scene so serene
As the red splashed
On white canvas with
Stroke of brush and blade.
I turned those crimson tears
To roses.
Jan 27, 2011
Jan 27, 2011 at 5:55 PM UTC
A thousand white angels
Drifting gracefully down,
Heavens claim to innocence.
Slowly they fall,
Slowly turning black.
The guilt and sorrow,
Humanities arrogance
Cloaking them in sadness.
Slowly they fall,
Turning to ash.
A sign held up high,
“The End is Nigh!”
Jan 27, 2011
Jan 27, 2011 at 5:53 PM UTC
Unique, strangely free.
We shimmer in the air, no two alike
And yet,
Blood brothers are we.
We fall gracefully,
Laughing and dancing
Upon the chill breeze.
Looking at our wonderful destination.
Slowly,
The unbearable happens.
They vanish.
Brothers! Brothers!
Gone, alone,
Loneliness and quite introspection
None are left,
But me…
The wonderful destination,
At last a glimmer of hope.
Appropriate, then
That it should look
As I feel.
Barren, blackened.
The perfume of violence and death
Lingers in the still air,
But nothing is left save for tears.
So,
I lay my weary head to rest,
Upon a face,
A dead man holding a sign.
“The End is Nigh.”
Jan 27, 2011
Jan 27, 2011 at 5:52 PM UTC
Nothing more than a shadow he stalks the moor,
Giving her an acknowledging glance.
He turns to face the empty distance
There is Darkness; there is nothingness on the shore.
Every step engulfed by a torrent of flames;
Each move a silent break from reality.
Nothing but the darkness accepts his frailty.
His secret and wild desires remain untamed.
No more than a ghost he walks the path.
Feeling nothing for anyone,
Shifting to look at the passive faces of everyone.
No guilt, no sorrow, no remorse, just pain.
His pain a mystery waiting to rise from some dark depth.
A story cloaked by calm and misdirection.
You may search at your own digression.
Alas, for now He walks in hollow footsteps.
Jan 27, 2011
Jan 27, 2011 at 5:50 PM UTC
We turn, we turn, we turn in
Circles as daylight fades dim.
Warm breath sticks to candle light
One last sigh before the fight.
ten paces then the failing rain.
twelve days till he suffers pain.
seven times the clock knocks,
one hour and she passes away.
Drops, soaked in alcohol
Serenading the night away
Reaching that point of no return,
One fragile heartbeat at a time.
and i continue to spin,
One circle at a time.
One **** circle at a time.
Jan 27, 2011
Jan 27, 2011 at 5:49 PM UTC