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I am you looking at me
look into me and what do you see?
you see me looking at you

I look at you and what do I see?
I see you looking at me
for you are me looking at you the reflection.
listless clouds clash
remorsefully bright
in contrast to the darkness
of the sky behind them
poised to invade

when the darkness has won,
evil stars
strike up in flames
overtaking our dreams
through which we witness

furrows creep and widen
across the solid earth
ingesting clusters of ****** souls,
their cadaverous shades perfumed
by the misery of hell

and undermining tall cathedrals
which plunge with torrents of masonry
into the abyss,
their unfastened bells clamoring
out of sync and out of key

through the acrid dusts of hell
trudge trolls who,
bored and longing for meaning,
pilfer the cathedrals' rugged remnants
lying in slanted piles

we come to realize
we are the ministers of dead nations
for which any hope of renewal
has finally been extinguished,
masterfully deceived and depleted
by an anarchic emperor
who caresses the strings
of a dismelodious lyre

his lyre invites
the clouds to return,
this time energized and organized
into desolate vortices
that twist without purpose,
where even infinity dies,
the same multitudes of nothingness
in which we're finally overtaken

as befoulment is woven between us
and we are choked into sleep,
vainly we ask,
So, what's the answer?
What of life and all that’s been,
Mine was stolen on a field of green,
For king and country, god and mum,
laid down in the shadows, never saw the sun.
100 years is mine to tell,
no comforting arms for those that fell,
I ask no pity, tears or plea,
Just once on a morn, remember me.
I wrote and posted this poem on here earlier in the year but today, the anniversary of the end of the WW1, it seemed appropriate to do so again, in remembrance of all those who paid the ultimate sacrifice.
ah, enslave without compassion
bound ancestors you must impale
go seek and show no mercy
let those who escape carry the tale

all the sufferers bearing witness
to their ministers spilling their blood
staggered screeches from bleak recesses
regicide plotters bend to the dust

with unmitigated conquest and *******
trample them under your tyranny

slimy enshrinement brings into question
what's divinely lamented for
scatter populations with ruthlessness
let them choose sycophancy or sword

reappoint difficult commanders
for instigation unbroken awaits
kept in frenzy, they whisper confusion
never quite sure of their fate

with unmitigated conquest and *******
trample them under your tyranny

let the cowardly unlock the gates for you
to heroically claim what's inside
crowds you abhor kneeling in wonder
all the world is your ****** bride

punctuate the roads with tollgates
***** monuments to broadcast your name
all your banquet's guests are your enemies
entertain them with one another's shame

with unmitigated conquest and *******
trample them under your tyranny

with unmitigated conquest and *******
trample them under your tyranny
under your tyranny
An instructional hymn for unseasoned conquerors.
color has fled the sky
blinded by the sharp, white sun
we drift until we land
among chalky ridges
devoid of leaf or claw

voices of reassurance
keep calling after us
yet here we have little
but ourselves to save us
stale water, stale air,
dry bread, what little there is

if we're lucky, we'll return
but for now, we revel
in the miracle that we are here
and look back upon our sullied asylum
stirring with cacophonic frenzy
distant, isolated and inaudible

— The End —