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"holymen" poems
Covering, smothering your land like a shroud; sneakily, silently, making not a sound. Don't panic, don't hide, don't try to disappear, don't even try to flee - it is of no use, my dear. Ghostly, ethereal, otherworldly, unholy; there can't be light without darkness - THIS was His folly. So hearken! Ye holymen! Hearken! Ye sinners! Hearken! Ye losers! Hearken! Ye winners! Hark now here, beings of white, black and red: where do you run to when Earth wants you dead. . .?
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Feb 12, 2011
Feb 12, 2011 at 12:07 AM UTC
anton-michael
The Fog
Covering, smothering your land like a shroud; sneakily, silently, making not a sound. Don't panic, don't hide, don't try to disappear, don't even try to flee - it is of no use, my dear. Ghostly, ethereal, otherworldly, unholy; there can't be light without darkness - THIS was His folly. So hearken! Ye holymen! Hearken! Ye sinners! Hearken! Ye losers! Hearken! Ye winners! Hark now here, beings of white, black and red: where do you run to when Earth wants you dead. . .?
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