"acolyte" poems - Hello Poetry

Saturated in steely blue clutches, sweating from the 75 degree Georgia night strung up and washed out with a serpent woman that keeps bringing on the blight Singing you a song of bliss and blinders. A big brick red boot on your neck and a green collar that reads The Gardens ***** The Garden takes the taxes tightens up the lead and never relaxes Hit ya where ya like, the pain is disguised, leather tastes like candy, The Gardens got ya hypnotized. Your late night camping sight attracts the moon light parasite, that acolyte of appetite, Tonight your the Gardens Delight You wanna run but she's got those hooks between your shoulder blades feeling like an inexorable **** of silk, smoke and skin. She gives you every thing you need, Fountain heads of intemperance and black out nights Whole streets smelling like grease and charcoal charbroils Men and women of dexterous lechery, feverous severance, and generous deference Crystals for your cranium, high altitude dives and the lowest lows. A cacophony of any entertainment you might want or need, just as long as its seedy. The Garden keeps blinders on your head to make sure you can't see anything she doesn't want you to. Try to remove em and the punishment is usually severe. She might give you the greatest loves you've ever known and turn em to photographs, blot em with LSD and trip you out on memories. And when you come back to what you think reality is she'll take those photographs and burn em up right in your face and leave you asking if any of it really happened while feeling like it was the realest thing that ever has. She'll break you and build you up, build you up and break you worse. A cycle of bad things feeling real good. The Garden will do everything in her power to keep you right here. But if you can get all those straps and tight leather off, all those hooks and chains.. If you can escape her steely blue clutches,, You'll finally see how wrong you've been done, and your still gonna want her back in some strange way.. but you might start to heal.... But know this. No matter where you might run off to, You'll still be hearing The Garden City call. That siren song of bliss and blinders.

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Mar 23, 2017

Mar 23, 2017 at 4:27 AM UTC

Rather-timbuilt

Augusta, GA

Saturated in steely blue clutches, sweating from the 75 degree Georgia night strung up and washed out with a serpent woman that keeps bringing on the blight Singing you a song of bliss and blinders. A big brick red boot on your neck and a green collar that reads The Gardens ***** The Garden takes the taxes tightens up the lead and never relaxes Hit ya where ya like, the pain is disguised, leather tastes like candy, The Gardens got ya hypnotized. Your late night camping sight attracts the moon light parasite, that acolyte of appetite, Tonight your the Gardens Delight You wanna run but she's got those hooks between your shoulder blades feeling like an inexorable **** of silk, smoke and skin. She gives you every thing you need, Fountain heads of intemperance and black out nights Whole streets smelling like grease and charcoal charbroils Men and women of dexterous lechery, feverous severance, and generous deference Crystals for your cranium, high altitude dives and the lowest lows. A cacophony of any entertainment you might want or need, just as long as its seedy. The Garden keeps blinders on your head to make sure you can't see anything she doesn't want you to. Try to remove em and the punishment is usually severe. She might give you the greatest loves you've ever known and turn em to photographs, blot em with LSD and trip you out on memories. And when you come back to what you think reality is she'll take those photographs and burn em up right in your face and leave you asking if any of it really happened while feeling like it was the realest thing that ever has. She'll break you and build you up, build you up and break you worse. A cycle of bad things feeling real good. The Garden will do everything in her power to keep you right here. But if you can get all those straps and tight leather off, all those hooks and chains.. If you can escape her steely blue clutches,, You'll finally see how wrong you've been done, and your still gonna want her back in some strange way.. but you might start to heal.... But know this. No matter where you might run off to, You'll still be hearing The Garden City call. That siren song of bliss and blinders.