Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jon Thenes Mar 23
You know you are wrong
when you bed me in our own litter
and The Feaster raises its head
to feed our relations with its attention
We persist
and you're having none of my boring objections
This bed has become a field
of mammal ply and spell craft
We sign out glyphs
in energies and positionings
In The Feasters eyes
we have meaning
we are positive
we glow for it
Feathers from air
we tap out
with a shared vocal hark crash the mind ;
plan flown on
an excercise of oblivion
Criminal tide rising
to feel upon the doggy moon
When The Love has only known The Night Time
with little illumination
the revealed is a frightful thing ;
a Medicine and a Leviathan
Mar Dec 2018
There's more hate in me now than there ever has been before.
Why do I feel so heartbroken?
Maybe because,
Once upon a time,
I thought that I knew my way.
I thought that I knew my purpose.
I have spent so much time building myself up,
And the leviathan has knocked it all down.
My strength has withered away to nothingness,
My feelings are not even considered.
This leviathan,
Has hurt me so deep,
For the sake of love.
Gnat Oct 2018

     I'm sorry. Everything about me
you see as wrong, I
see as inescapable.

     Truth be told,
I have never wanted to escape
a thing   but you.


     I just don't buy into your Yeshua.


     I wear the tattoo of the sulfur cross.
And I wear it well.
Solaces Sep 2017
I flew over endless oceans..
Under endless storms..
It rained forever here..
No land at all..
But why was it raining so much..
Why did it never end..
I decide to fly over the storms..
And above the clouds the source of endless storms was there..
Thousands and thousands of them..
Turns out they flooded the planet to make a new home for themselves.
The ocean below was a nest..
I was a traveller..
I was sent here to witness the end of a world and the beginning of a new one..
it ends and begins..
Tyler Castro Apr 2017
Will a Phoenix doused in water reignite?
Should the Sun ever disturb the night?
As my eyes take their rest my mind takes flight
Then quickly plummets straight into blight
Straight into sorrow; reigniting my rage
And keeps me awake as if it were day
Awake to write my story/Awake to dwell on the last page
How dare I wallow over someone engaged?
Great Leviathan, Demon God of water and life
Lend me your strength as I overcome this strife
Baptize me in your waters and revitalize my sight
Clear away all the salt and callus to turn my scleras white
Drown the anger in my heart; cease its return!
**** the Phoenix, for its presence burns!
Drown the Sun so that the moon may take its turn
Allow my brain to rest so that I may have the capacity learn
How to fully move on…
The demonology was borrowed from Anton Szandor LaVey
Nyteshade Mar 2017
An injection of self, a reflection of self
Orphic explosion, in this brain of mine
I touch the sky, my shaman-self lifted
To realize some kind, of undefined divine
My soul wants to soar, although some parts to plod
Among the grey citizens of order
Dull thumpers of the one, dull god

(And as I come to fear, the night, boredom
And my internal extremes, the hyper-brain
Says ‘enjoy this, though it ends in a crash
You were dead before, so live and fear not death’)

Somehow free of the hate that claims others
Oh those self-defined, self-refined prisons they create
Only to lament their loss and deny their place
In the ranks of bile, and spite and hate
Maybe to cloak themselves from the leviathan-machines
Which provides their plenty, as the global south screams
Their ****-eating hypocrisies, judgemental non-philosophies.
And I have landed among their pretention, problems hidden
Beneath the rug, the armoured iron carpet
That supports the weight of their bloated heads
And blood-drenched souls.
Steele Mar 2015
He waits beneath the scarlet sea.
His voice is thunder, whispered quietly.
His eyes are faith, felt in fear and wonder.
His grasp is the course of finality.

Wretched like gold tainted ****** and plundered
by evils that wear the faces of men like a veil.
Scaly and pale. Dark, mighty and frail.
With a voice soft as thunder, and eyes like the moon
that move the sea in tandem with black hearts that fail
to see; to dream; to outlive their doom.

He waits in solemn and sacred slumber,
solemn in knowing his sacred duty to be.
Black eyes judge without remorse.
Cold scales clatter in ringing course,
echoing through wet depths of eternity.

Softly, his voice reaches out through the fade.
He beckons the faithless in cruel duality.
They abandon false idols of Gold and Jade.
They reach for his shimmering promised wonder
and he takes their outstretched hand...

As his tendrils drag the doomed souls under,
black eyes shed no tears for the filthy and ******.

"Such is His word." He whispers, in a voice old and rough like sand.
Softly, he shivers, and the waters ripple unmanned.
"Sinners..." He whispers,

"Won't you come take my hand?"
There is an old story, from the Golden Age of Piracy. Many ship logs tell of a voice, beckoning the dogs of the sea step into the waters, and meet their maker at last. Many men listened to that voice, and Leviathan feasted well on each occasion.
SøułSurvivør Nov 2014

out of an arid ocean
You came up
hoary with barnacles
grey with skin

a spray of stars erupted
startled . awash
against its own night

and down again You go
to know the
mating of tendrils
the killing planes of seashores
the antiquities of the sun

were we there once?

in the phosphor seasons
we played with You
as You are even then
so self contained we found
no need to surrender
to the patient
winds of change

now You echo in
strange meridians
storming Your gusts
in far off topography

Your great tail
sings its starlight way
homing to its thunder


they came

oh, yes, they came
to harvest Your virtues
their decks slick
with Your blood
crimson stains **** with lucre
their forest of masts
peopled by
Your ghosts

sing ! O leviathan ! sing
lift Your voice and
bellow to us
of Your lost pods
Your wonderful oceans
Your salty maternity



(c) soulsurvivor
I believe that the sea mammals
Are far superior to us
In many aspects

They recently found a pod
Of whales beached and
Dying. I don't know
How the scientists figured
This out, but apparently
they had been
Joan Anders Jul 2014
A flood should not feel
Like a choke-hold.
A landslide should not
Remind me of a paw swipe.

Was that an earthquake
Or your death rattle?
Is this the falling tide
Or your dying breath?
Next page