"dredges" poems
Darkness dredges deep into the soul,
tempest gouges out my stillness in manic vengeance,
lightning in fiery wrath
rips up the mind’s horizon.
Thunderous sky roars in scaring rage.
Panicked,
stars went hiding
in the pall of gloomy clouds.
My soul too blackens out,
O Shepherd,
where are you this night?
Sep 29, 2018
Sep 29, 2018 at 1:40 PM UTC
It is early.
and the world hangs silent, but the birds chirping their chime,
An angelic choir of vibratos
And tenor beaks
humming sweet
to the early tangerine crest of sun
slivers a powerful bar of light over the peaks
to a newly brilliant horizon.
Sweeping the dredges of darkness away
as the stars fade
like coal dust
back again, packed into their cupboard of night
one by one,
lanterns snuffed and sent
into the vibrating blue
as if the whole sky should erupt into fire
azure, hallowed morning pyre
Encircled by the gradient hues
of coral pink and castille yellow
Mediterranean teal
A symphonic
cacophonic
**** of birth
Good Day, Sweet mother earth.
Squeezed through the valleys
canals
allies
every nook and forlorn cranny
kissed with her blissful photonic army
And the infantile creatures cry with glee.
The dewdrops clutch the blades
the tender palasade
of petals
remembering their darkened escapades
slipping tender rain
to feed the dirt,
the lonely detritus
elixirs of the lovely night.
And the world bursts into a veritable
kaleidoscope of life
With a trillion pairs of eyes
accessing the mother dream
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 2:48 AM UTC
He knows what lies below.
This is where it all began: here
Beneath the bubbling sludge and ******* mud.
This is the home brew, the cocooning grounds.
His sturdy boots trudge through,
Hefting questions and glasses askew.
Somewhere to the side a fat swamp prince
Composes bog rhymes in ribbit meter.
Each squelching step sets a buzzing bunch
Of crystal dragons zipping away to
Slick peridot pontoons. A loon swoons
The expeditioner with a sobbing cry. He
Has said goodbye to reservations, to the
Long-dead preservation rights. He slogs through
The buzzing night. Yellow daggers clench
Between scaly steeltrap snappers and stones
With eyes blink in languid surprise, unnoticed.
He is lost, dying, unsure of his quest. He needs a
Cure. He knows it lies here, in the beginning place.
Their faces haunt his deathly guts and crush
His straining heart with need - need for the solution.
Need to survive, to prolong his life - alone!
So alone: the last. If only he could rest.
His nostrils quiver with the homesick stench
Of tails becoming legs and nipping lips sprouting
Sticky tongues. The answer, he is here for the
Only answer. Something below, below, down
In the dredges of history - in the slime of
Centuries, rotless and preserved. He will find it:
Some link, some closer thing he can revive
And test and rest as bedrock for his life.
A foot sticks in the overfriendly tar. No,
He will not pause. He has come too far.
In the birthing grime, some hungry memory wakes.
It knows what lies above, it thirsts to cease it.
It reaches, roils, pulls, rips with smelly squish-fingers -
Thirsting and thirsting to slake. It longs to reveal
To show, to make known to the traveler.
(All he has searched for is found here, it knows,
Organized and close. Held and safe below)
It reaches, grabs - thirsty - presses him into
A false step. A slip. A skritching clipboard
Of statistics curses in rustling indignance
As it flutters to the mud above a splattered head.
Science-frozen lungs fill with dread -
With life-giving peat. (It will show him) He ***** in
And burbles out a scream. (what he wants, show him)
This is where it begins, (this is his dream!) where it ends.
Now he knows what lies below. He lies - curled -
Quenched from growth. The eyes of unnoticed
Stones blink in surprise. Soaring swamp lyrics
Rise, a loon swoons with a sobbing cry.
He curls in peace and drifts alone
Now he knows what lies below.
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 7:10 PM UTC
A sadness deepens itself into the center of my body
An uncontrolling undesired sadness
That meanders my heart
& perturbs my mind
An uneasy feeling of grievous loss heaves into me
I feel repulsed by these unfortunate feelings
& I'm trying to will them to leave
I cannot explicate this harrowing pain that dredges in my mirthless soul.
I am crying out for comfort
Because my desolate-being is overwhelmed with grief
For I have been mislead by someone I thought I could trust
But they were disgraceful
& abused my solicitudity
And now I'm sitting here baffled
Because who knew.. That you could make me feel so terror-stricken
I trusted you to keep me safe when I told you my sacred secret...
The one secret that ruined me completely
But this goes to show, that you cannot trust anyone
But yourself.
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 12:54 AM UTC
madmen fools and nothing,
the mien — brazen, stupefied glance
and hungry for light, our words gutted
like our enemies in our ill-thought.
this road dredges, the aporetic line
sifting through new divisions, something
an equation forgets the dividend
and almost always a salient permutation
of men and women and the "takatak" boy
peddling cigarettes to claptrap ***
of metal envoys,
reciprocating some chances of restive
dreadnaught, diffusion of sweat in
scalding heat of 12:41 afternoon sun
and smoking with bystanders
unaware of the doldrum and the ennui
it was a fine day in Ortigas.
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 11:42 PM UTC
A hand springs forth
from the dredges of the pit.
A hand failing to knowledge its worth
with a will to deny it.
The blinding light of things to come
bright in its possibility
Chemical baths render sludge undone
clearing the way for eyes to see.
The weight of the land has tipped the scales
orbiting in its gravity
Quickening the mind that hails
and objects the dark's depravity.
Realize the void is important
yet small in its relevance
A calmness to lay dormant
for freedom is the recompense.
The stranglehold on the soul
will be released only when
you forgive yourself
for not being able to fill the hole.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 2:29 PM UTC
*The impurity of my soul is what attracts the dredges of the earth to me
The false, the pretentious, the idle, the egotistical
They all hide behind a slight swagger and yet a frown of insecurity
They creep in with their words
and disappear leaving behind the sediment of their pungent contamination
But why me?
Am i only the company I keep?
Am I more than this delicate mystique?
Or do I hide behind the name sake of succubus and lover in fear of what's underneath
I dare say ........it may be to late for me*
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 12:53 PM UTC
Thee Artiste Carvó's "Fumility"
I am a tróubled Tróll, yes I be
draped in bonds of turgid fumility
endowed with a mind's inanity!
Indeed, I fantasize the glóry of Thee
floating like a cork in lunacy
at the edges of the dredges of futility!
But then, as I hallucinate visions of greatness in I and me,
the Vóices come, singing fóllies of my destiny
buzzing in my head like a bumblebee!
The mystic maggóts envelop the I, the fartistic see
birdies tweet to coo coos in the jujube tree
while the lónely Lóg swims in I and Thee,
counting buttons, deviant in insanity!
Some souls are just simply shallower than others. There is no shame in recognizing I's ówn drabness, and appreciating the bóredóm Thee'self has unleashed upon the world. When Thee writes crap about the greatness of I, Thee is displaying I's disappointment for I's lack of gifts...
Would you yourself not feel pity for the finest fartist alive?
*Original ('Humility') by: Thee Artiste aka Logbrain Crappó
Reworked by: CrE aka Trollminator*
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 12:09 PM UTC
L'heure verte
The mountains. The heaps of their bountiful gravels, and earth, and soil, large oversized masses of half-frozen water teetering on the precipice of subzero masculine ******* Francophilic cleavage jetting out of this deserted white pastoral dressing. The inaugural bawl, wanton fixations of putting the imperialist foot on every spot of tree, each and every shrub, until the limbs' cast reaches each dimple that foliage braves, where that blue eagle of patriotism dredges its claws to form every river, rill, estuary, creek, channel, flume, littoral, and waterway where the iron-rich gullies once brimmed in the interamnian basins, rich crimsony waters riffling through fruitful and extravagant aquifers. Beyond that, where an inexplicably feral wind rips vines from their dendritic housings, where barely an eye can see, this place of exsanguination and abysmal phytocide.
At the end of this lamentable torture, only a desert of human interest remains. There is no reason to laugh, or smile, or cheer, or put a leg up, to call on a friend, or to have ice cream. There will be no more ice cream. There is only the loathsome incredulousness and avarice in the semblances and familiarity of those with whom we thought we once knew. Little can ever be known, for there is much to gain in the absence of knowledge, and even greater that can be acquired in the alms of wisdom through patient examination and thorough silence. Here on the buttes and cornices, the thwacking gavels of evil power deities throw down their lust for more and soon become adjoined to these grand discrepancies greed mistakenly loses to a lack of awareness and to self-aggrandizement.
Power is the weapon of inexperienced wielders. Passion is the immortal frequency that is worn by artisans and artists, poets and painters, it is the business of quietness to learnedly evolve to protect our tomorrows from personal needs, but to instead preserve the integral parts of society. The words of languages, artifacts, and cultures, rather than the skeletons of ****** and the deeds of possession. Each who sleeps knows their bedfellows to equally be at peace. For no wealth can exceed that of comfortable pillows, soft quilts, and sheets. We are all the same while we sleep.
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 6:52 AM UTC
Bounds and bounds of names of the forgotten,
I wandered through the dredges of solemn
Wastes that had entangled my thoughts,
The antagonistic braves of loss,
The ones who’ve left ones petrified,
The ones who’ve died, left crying alive,
I have also forgotten each name,
The false memory of these people, all the same,
Dead is dead, this flair for the living,
This selfishness bears no arrogance deceiving,
I am one who welcomes death,
This fortitude alarming to some who step,
Along the edge of insanity,
I am the abyss, the abyss is me.
So strong I was, walking head high,
Disregarding tokens left behind,
Until a sight then stopped me cold,
A sullen grave but marked ”Unknown.”
-
I couldn’t move,
I was frozen in place,
I was then proved,
My heart, indeed, was laced.
Not even I, who so asked for sleep,
Could even stop tear
From escaping me,
I couldn’t stop but wont to weep.
-
Aside from the sorrow ”Unknown” had caused,
What’s worse is that he had someone,
Here I was, alone and hateful,
Someone remembered, and was grateful,
For the stone had upon it but five little roses,
Alive and well, not dead like the others,
Some person some where had remembered ”Unknown”
So that not even ”he” was left alone.
-
Destroying everything I have believed,
Spiteful, hateful, and aggrieved,
I stepped back and cursed him in jealousy,
Fell back, I tripped, shocked, and conceived,
That perhaps I was thinking like a child,
Everyone deserves there life so mild,
Who was I to curse anyone?
All in all, I wanted everything undone.
-
The real beauty in this situation,
Is that no one earns stagnation,
No one knew him when he was buried,
But someone now shows care and hurried,
To his site to show their love,
I just hope he’s diseased, but Above.
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 7:08 PM UTC
It’s bones echo as her song is sung in sorrow
Petrified eyes wander aimlessly until they’re hidden
Reclusive below an endless sea of regret engulfing the path to forgiveness
They swell like flesh that’s been kissed by the blazes of hell
Rising above the intoxicating waves of silk and misery
To gaze upon the sun until it rests
Her head of protruding thoughts ignites while she rests
Inundated in everlasting sorrow
The variables given only result in misery
It’s soul once residing within is now hidden
Lost forever it dredges forgiveness
Such tragedies must only exist in hell
It’s destiny slips through it’s weak hands reminding it, this is hell
Reminding it to cherish each passing moment it has left with her, envisaging forgiveness
Letting all be know and nothing hidden
In hopes for redemption and a life free of sorrow
Yet alone her broken body rests
Reflecting its misery
The black of night is its cloak of misery
And her misery and brokenness is it’s Hell
Her song harmonizes to its sorrow
Putting their calamity to rest
Revealing sprouts of change which lay beneath the ash hidden
Waiting for a new tomorrows light and the rains of forgiveness
Time heals all things so in time comes forgivenesses
It tells itself so it can rest
Perhaps times cold slumber will extinguish it’s hell
Perhaps it will sit and wait still in misery
Remembering the circumstance which brought about such sorrow
Letting it be shown and not hidden
It prays her love is not lost, only hidden
Prays for growth and happiness exchanging misery
It prays so that it can rest
Her smile and warm embrace prove the existence of forgiveness
Or is this still hell
Is this inevitable sorrow
Forever in sorrow the light is hidden
This dark hell torments it’s heart with misery
Forgiveness illuminates it’s consciousness putting its demons to rest
Jul 25, 2021
Jul 25, 2021 at 5:19 AM UTC
**A painting of the future, a grandiose world of adventure
Awaits us all beyond the call of the mid-morning
Blackbird, filling with the sunlight of ages past,
A dawn of a new era approaches. Her voice heard.
The air, a scent, camp fires of the joyous years of our youth,
Of when we all used to run and laugh, puffy clouds, skies blue,
The sight of such clarity, yet to be mistaken for another
Dream, it will light the path that we used to follow, in truth.
Sky-full of color, drowned out this filth! This city curb with
Alcohol and drugs and needles pouring down into the
Hideous dredges below through a crack, it's disturbing,
Like a tumour, a world of wicked witches, fear, and lack.**
Let the scientists try to explain it away, the myriad of colorful
Hues balancing and bouncing off each other in the skies...
**Sterling silver the moon, her crescent to become
Full-like a white-gold orb, the backdrop sparkles star dust,
In the light there is a vibrant halo, delicate and full,
Explain it away! The earth is waking up, eventually...**
She will again be whole.
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 1:02 AM UTC
1- Alex S
You were a rough hit to the stomach
a cold and ***** baptizing
I ****** you twice and never again
because of you I stopped eating
I haven’t seen you since I was 14
and that’s okay with both of us
2- Alex F
Your name still gives me chills
you remind me of a fox in winter
I really did love you like the waves love the ocean shore
I really would have drowned myself for you
im sorry I took your virginity
3- JJ S
It was a drunken hookup on a ***** couch
in a smoke filled basement that I had to sneak out of later
and you were 27 and should have known better
and it was really just too awful to talk about
4- Garrett F
In a Chinese restaurant parking lot at 9 pm
we used your backseat like it had
rose petals and candles
and you were my best friend
and it’s still one of my biggest regrets
and we stopped speaking after that
5- Michael H
Really I just wanted the free ****
and a place to spend the night
so, did you enjoy the taste of my tall black soul
that tends to smell of tar
and the dredges of a coffee ***
6- Julian R
I don’t know the first thing about you
besides the fact you are from New York
and 25
and play basketball for a college
and you pushed me down on the bed
and swallowed me whole
7- Sean E
It was Halloween
and we were drunk
and we undressed in the back of someone’s jeep
and laid under the stars at 4 am on a blanket in a backyard
the first time you were ever inside me
8- Johnny B
24 and never someone I’d normally ****
but I stayed at your house for 2 weeks
and we became connected on every piece of furniture
and I still never got enough of you
and god I miss you
9- Aaron E
You are the end of it all
and with you I am butter melting
I am grinding my teeth down in lust
I’ve never seen anyone look so perfect naked
and I’m wishing you were the only one in this list
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
Empower me
With the keen edge
Of cathartic sagacity
And I will dance
In exalted tribute
To daybreaks invincibility
Double time
While quoting rhyme
To the downbeat slash
Of the scarecrows scepter
While compatable
Emulation
Exposed to rarefied
Imagination
As the keep of the keys
Pounds out
The scathing expose
That dredges up
Those
Benumbed and bewildered
Riders
Who have been
Constantly
Overexposed to the negatives
Developed
In those darkrooms
WHERE
Expedited promises
Secretly enacted
Enabling
Blankcheck *******
Of any and all
Faithful believers
Of our beloved Carrousel
That we have
Always insisted
Is the keepsake
Bequeathed
To all the concerned
Caretakers--once empowered
With the keen edge
Of cathartic sagacity
Now just
Trying to keep dancing
To the fading calliope music
As too many
Once - synchronised
Elements
Of our revolving
Carrousel
Are going wrong
Breaking down
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 1:16 AM UTC
Feral mood swings give the elastic momentum to soar from the dark dredges,
As it was previously unthinkable.
From the glorious misanthropic lows, to a euphoric revelry or youth.
These golden days are replete with vicious change,
The growth plates of potential prosperity ease close with a snide unforgiving sentiment.
The bright orifices of the sky plunge into obscurity,
Only the imprints leave us dazzled, thinking the dream still holds an office.
But the endless chapters are truncated,
until the only thing left is the devil's **** or his charity.
Bubbling youth to grim compliance.
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 10:32 PM UTC
And the jejune...just like that
it leaves my life.
And the mundane of it all?
The looking of both ways and crossing,
The tieing of shoelaces...
the washing of hands.
And the dullness of it all suddenly shines like a sharpened knife
on a darkened shelf
in a forgotten home
That is now just a house.
Glistens like that. Out of place and unexpected.
And all of the sudden
the sun lifts her goddess body
stretching forth her sinewy limbs,
just for me ...playfully fondles my skin with heat.
Undeserving, inconsiderate me.
And without any predisposition
the ocean dredges the finest, tiniest grains of sand
for me,
for me.
Vain.
Reckless me.
Turns over an hourglass glistening with his diamond dust
and just like that...
And I am grateful, yes I am humbled.
And I will clutch it, I will seize it.
I will patronize, I will hoard.
And I will covet it, herald. Proclaim.
And I will know that time? Seconds hands, he stroke me now. Hours wind around my wrist and bind my eyes with red slithery silken sashes-
And Love? Fickle stroke of her pen and just like that
I am chosen.
Moved from the side of the street where a damp mold covers the crumbling bricks...
and the people I pass, they look up at me now
nodding with a secret knowing. Because
we are chosen for this love, We are the elite. Plucked from the remaining pugilists.
And just like that he loves me.
Just like that it swallows me whole
...And just like that, love.
Sahn 7/2/2014
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 12:39 PM UTC
This twisted sandman
strangles the sleep
of the guilty mind.
The over-exposed cycle
the why conjoined with I.
Persists, persistant, perspire.
He self-develops in your spine.
In black shadows, as he
dredges through memories
and dredges through memories
and dredges through memories.
All recalled, and in pain
sorted, distorted, and wrought anew.
But never quite to
a wholly dissonant cognition.
For these prints
These prints hold images
impossible to crush
or cast aside.
For there he stands
in his and your own dark room
in screaming defiance of the false.
The light thrown on
He smashes your funhouse mirror
and chemical-burns your closed eyes.
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 9:12 AM UTC
The greatest of the greatest pieces of art come from grief. The grief of death, absence, lost love, and defeat. Grief is a phase of sadness, a substitute for when just being sad is not momentary and the word not good or strong enough, the sadness from a specific departure from our lives. In a life so full of grief we dread the sadness, it hides in the shadows of happiness when the fleeting moments of bliss are pulled from under us. Even though we expect it, we never expect it.
Often though, in the dredges of depression brought on by this great and terrible grief it allows us to see something we other wise may have over looked in the moment.
That is happiness. Even when shrouded in the pitiful emptiness of grief when we look back on that person or thing or idea we so miss, finally we see our happy moments. We remember more fondly, and it dulls our regrets for things not said or deeds not done or ideas that never came into fruition because for someone or something, the clock wound down.
The gift of sadness is it makes us know which moments were truly good, which memories we will hold dear to our hearts until our own clock, our own heart stops. Just when you think your heart is about to explode in your chest some relief comes from looking back, then going on. It comes from knowing you were happy once.
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 10:20 PM UTC
began with the end of your sentence
the dredges at the bottom of the mocha
fool yourself into thinking
you are not running on less than nothing
accept it doesn’t make sense
read the symbols you find
at the bottom of your reservoir
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 8:16 AM UTC
The washer and dryer mask the sound of Nana and me
Down the three or four steps to the garage
Of the Blackberne house
Her hands on my hands or more likely
Gripping my forearms
As dimples take over my chin
Voice shaking
As she dredges the grief of the day out of me
Mar 27, 2023
Mar 27, 2023 at 9:05 AM UTC
he jokes about tuscaloosa
and being buried in dixie
shot in his truck near the border
or set on fire for a better purpose
had gone down in a tomato fight
somewhere in texas,
and when he's mad he dredges up
all the things he secretly hates about me
but'll ne'er admit, 'cause sometimes he doesn't
even know what he's feeling, has got all his
spirit out in ten arms searching for the best
way to put down one sentence--
he's pretty scary when he's angry
looks like might just lash out or
shoot through my redwood patio
'specially with the threat of his truck
runnin' in the background, rumbling
in the driveway ready to take him away--
he used all my favorite things to get inside
but starts to take them away one by one
I tell my mom same, same cause it's
the same story, different page, different chapter
same book, same shelf, same dust
he once said I was what he was tryin' to get back to
told me he was takin' his mom to church
once brought up the Lord in a dim light
but now he don't see the point
I'll tell you what,
I'll tell you what
Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 10:12 PM UTC
I wish I was a novelist
I could write this into a fairy tale
With love triumphant
While birds sing
bring me songs of simple bliss
I'm sick of something sweeter than this
I'll settle for the dredges at the bottom of my coffee cup
No need for excessive amounts of honey
I'd rather brace myself for the bitter than cover it up
So what's the purpose of money?
I mean really what does it do?
Besides turn me and you into simple creatures
I mean collecting shiny things, storing them for later
That's something the crows do
But even the crows know why they do it
They do it because they like shiny things
do you?
Do you love what you do?
Do you let it consume you?
I'd rather wake up under a bridge with a little chill in my bones
Then in a warm house that doesn't feel like home
So what about you?
Starting fires in a old coffee can, a gift from a friend you've never met
Not quite what you picture happiness to be?
Is it?
But sit down, pass that old sweater around
I'll tell you some story's
Some of the things I've seen even I don't believe
The magic of this city
It still gets to me
Subway tunnels are the damnedest things
People walking around in such close vasinity
Some of these people don't even look around
Have you ever admired the ridiculousness of it all?
What about that guy next to you?
Having troubles at home
Doesn't know if he can finish college
Not because he can't afford it
His trust fund has that settled
But he can't get that one girl in introduction to statistics to say hello
So he picks up his phone more often he used too
Just to look at it
What about the old man
The one all the kids on your block said was crazy
Have you ever seen evidence of those false claims?
Ever thought it was all just hear say?
Pass the message along
Life isn't about all the stuff we stockpile store for a later than never comes
So don't wait for life to hand you what you want you have to take it
go up and make your **** demands
Because this is not some fairy tale
This is not some song and dance
This is life and it'll knock you around
There's a few differences between me and who I want to be
I let it get to me, I fall down
And it takes me much longer to get back up than it should
But that's the key I get back up
I make a stand
I keep the crowd cheering in the bleachers
No matter how small they seem
Weather it's just God watching me, or my family
I'll keep it real
If reality keeps on keeping me
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 5:04 PM UTC
I thought the wounds had closed
But they've merely been covered by scabs
Scabs that needed no picking for the wounds to bleed again
Bleeding with renewed pain
Pain that I had hoped would have disappeared like the passing of the years
Yet the mere mention of your name
Dredges up my most agonising memories
Memories that I thought I had suppressed
Memories that could never be repressed
Memories of you breaking my heart
Of you healing it only for you to break it into even tinier pieces
Memories of claw shaped fingernails
Scratching my neck, my face, my chest
Of a razor tipped tongue that cut me to the bone with your insults
Of your poison laden honeyed words that turned my own friends against me
Of heavy hands that always left me bruised and battered
Memories of me walking away again
and again only for you to reel me in with your promises and your declaration of love
But your promises were as empty as your heart
Your profession of love was as false as that smile on your face
I see that now
I see that the only reason why these wounds have never really healed
Is because I have never truly let you go
Somewhere deep inside me
I had always wished you come back to me
For you were my first love
And for all the bad memories, we had some good ones too
And now with my heart slowly mending
And light banishing the shadows in my cave
I have to tell you this
I am letting you go
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 2:44 PM UTC
I cross the bridge to nowhere, in the cold, in my underwear
Intense winds push me to edges, where I contemplate ledges
Looking down, spirits swim and stare; icy waters are their lair
I levitate and meditate; medicate with mental dredges
Such mundane nonchalance; my bridge leads to idiot savants
I would be crowned their King, kindred soul of unsound meditations
We've left our lost souls unburied, unhurried to right the carriage
Take a deep breath of the ether of dregs and suppurations
Take the one whom you love, not in marriage, in ************
On the bridge, I pass a young ponce and hear echoes of "Bon Chance!"
Purple rags greet me at the gate, royal flags of highest distinction
Winking my eye, scratching my head, the dead are now forgotten
Deep in my pit, so deep I forget, a pang of extinction
In my palace of darkness, no light will shine on the rotten
In the court of fools, coarse avowals can't be washed by the fonts
So lines are drawn by idiot courtiers and indigent warriors
Cities with no regret or sorrow, tomorrow trampled to tatters
Through smoke and burnt flesh we ***** we hope to soothe the worriers
We are all Babylonians, babbling on as if nothing matters
The bridges to nowhere we cross, we cross bridges to Babylons
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 1:05 AM UTC