Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
The baptist who also did circumcisions Was filled with shame after being defiled By someone he thought he new Bashing his head against the stone walls Crying Sobbing Laughing Screaming Convulsing Dying Dying Dying He came to see spirits coming Running to whisk him away To another plane Of existence They were transparent Lustful ghosts with feet of flames "Dance, dance, dance" They yelled at him "Dance on the graves of your mother Dance on the grave of your father Of your sister Then on yours" "How does it feel? You like it? Hows it taste?" He snaped out of it and came at the spirits with a blessed gun Filled with six sliver bullets that were dipped in holy water "I know that death is not the end This is not my end" He said "I know all the words and they speak for themselves, these are them" PLOW PLOW PLOW It's everywhere But it's nowhere On the wild side On the other side How does it look? What's the name of the book? What's it called? The title of the book is **** YoU" Ease it back Just a bit In the afternoon By the mouth of the river There used to be a tree of many colors I rubbed my palms and fingers up and down its bark And looked up to see Within its branches There was a fact The fact that nothing lasts A fact that things come and go A fact things die and grow You and everyone you've come to know So there I was with the baptist At the tree by the river With the spirits coming from I don't know We ran into the river And cleansed ourselves of sin All we did And all we once were Was wiped clean The baptist fired his gun at his very own head PLOW His brains floated in the water I cupped the salt water and blood And drank it I began to see doves flying over me in odd flight patterns And the thought of fly came to me To go To go To go The cool water running down my throat I laid back under the tree The spirits gone The gun in my hand Nothing last for ever I began to scream "The opportunity!" "The opportunity!" "I've been cleaned!" PLOW No one ever found our bodies No one ever came to the mouth of the river to see the tree But somewhere Someone has the gun with one bullet left For either the spirits that chase them Or themselves I hope they know
0
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 6:50 PM UTC
Purgation
The baptist who also did circumcisions Was filled with shame after being defiled By someone he thought he new Bashing his head against the stone walls Crying Sobbing Laughing Screaming Convulsing Dying Dying Dying He came to see spirits coming Running to whisk him away To another plane Of existence They were transparent Lustful ghosts with feet of flames "Dance, dance, dance" They yelled at him "Dance on the graves of your mother Dance on the grave of your father Of your sister Then on yours" "How does it feel? You like it? Hows it taste?" He snaped out of it and came at the spirits with a blessed gun Filled with six sliver bullets that were dipped in holy water "I know that death is not the end This is not my end" He said "I know all the words and they speak for themselves, these are them" PLOW PLOW PLOW It's everywhere But it's nowhere On the wild side On the other side How does it look? What's the name of the book? What's it called? The title of the book is **** YoU" Ease it back Just a bit In the afternoon By the mouth of the river There used to be a tree of many colors I rubbed my palms and fingers up and down its bark And looked up to see Within its branches There was a fact The fact that nothing lasts A fact that things come and go A fact things die and grow You and everyone you've come to know So there I was with the baptist At the tree by the river With the spirits coming from I don't know We ran into the river And cleansed ourselves of sin All we did And all we once were Was wiped clean The baptist fired his gun at his very own head PLOW His brains floated in the water I cupped the salt water and blood And drank it I began to see doves flying over me in odd flight patterns And the thought of fly came to me To go To go To go The cool water running down my throat I laid back under the tree The spirits gone The gun in my hand Nothing last for ever I began to scream "The opportunity!" "The opportunity!" "I've been cleaned!" PLOW No one ever found our bodies No one ever came to the mouth of the river to see the tree But somewhere Someone has the gun with one bullet left For either the spirits that chase them Or themselves I hope they know
tommy-johnson
Written by
Colombian
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 6:50 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem