"parchement" poems
You see, Demons always come back,
All the demons you make, gain or trail,
All the wrongs you do, befriend and send,
Find a way to make you fail,
Your self-righteous backstabbing ways,
Will always turn the knife around,
And before you can stop it,
You’ll be dead without a sound,
And the commandments you say you praise,
Will fall with the weight of the sun,
And crush your hopes and dreams,
And your longed for days with God will never come,
And if he really is up there, watching,
He sees how evil his child, you, are,
And if he really is sitting, judging,
He will see you far less than a star,
But the black hole your hearts are.
-July 2nd 2013
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 5:22 AM UTC
Silvine Blockster
had a book
which it seems
everywhere he took
and thus as is
always the case
as when such books
are ferried in open space
it was not unusual
for folk to ask
if they could look
inside Silvines Blokcsters book
But upon not such uncivil pleas
he would become incenced
and wobble most peculiarly
at the knees
rant and even rave
shout and squeal
but he never would reveal
the pages of the books appeal
so once upon a dark and dreary night
when Mr Poe was real and truly out of sight
some citizens upon themselves they took
a vow to knock Silvine Blockster on the head
and steal his precious book
but alas dear reader
the blow they cast
caused poor Silvine Blockster
to breath his last
all fled in panic but one
who stayed fast
and stood there to the very last
he took a furtive look
inside the book
his knees buckled
his face turned white
and from head to toe
was filled with fright
but the book
he could not let go
this brought a smile to Mr Poe
who was not there
as well you know
now Mr Rephil Pad had a book
which it seems
everywhere he took
and when citizens
begged to take a look
his face whould turn green
and he would puke
and dear reader
please beware
for I do not mean to scare
if you encounter
Mr Rephil Pad
under no circumstnce
ask to look
inside his book
or enter into confederation
with those, who for just one peek
would crack his skull
and watch blood leak
for upon this crinkled parchement
fited and forgotten ink
tells of a curse
of which you must not think
a death note
you must not read
on this very subject
Mr Poe and I and of course the Raven
on this subject are all agreed
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 6:42 AM UTC
k a watson 2 days ago
The bell jingles
The door opens
The little figure hunched over
A parchement long forgotten
In time and space
My hads skim the volumes
My nose inhales the fragrance
Emotion over comes my being
I begin to run
Down the isles and up the stairs
Grabbing beautiful lights at random
Laughter bubbles from inside as I dance
Among the tall shelves that hold precious life
It is over too soon
My father calls to me
He tells me to pick only one
My happiness evaporates
How could I just choose one?
We soon leave
I empty handed
And his arms filled with knowledge
But I would return
I would return many a times
To relive that memory
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 11:14 PM UTC