Ramble? Me? Oh, puh-lease!


From The Circle of Unfortunate Names


Gilbert:
Who knew what poison he promoted,
or how it contributed to a hostile ballroom dance
in catacombs for fallen, thrashing, sleeping maidens;
he remains on Earth, like the way Egyptian twins foresaw it.
Maybe the trees would defeat your senses,
because clearly no one sees what nature grazes upon;
what underground doom will she
bestow upon our empty stomachs,
(words that fall into pieces, scattered over incoherent sentences and speak a different language?)
for my thirst is younger than the fear in your skin.
So you may tease my vigilant senses,
you may trick my slumbering wrath
as ghosts are dancing naked, serving your supper;
close your eyes and swallow what you're fed.



Hilding:
You may be the promise I broke
but pieces of your pieces of the pieces
of a heart you dawned upon and ate
your suffering is incomplete
without the mocking stars beneath your eyes
maybe tears and tears and tears to fall,
or should I bring you a harsher truth
and pompously shout, you indignant fraud,
that the living things in your blood
may come to feast upon your stomach,
and allow your hunger fill you until,
mixed with your own haughty blood,
you may be the colour on my walls.
And be reverberant and deny, pretentious, promiscuous,
I will let you remain dead.
I will let you remain dead.


Adolf:
So may you sleep in my dreams, I will confuse you
and strip you of your limbs so sweetly,
so unabashed and frail, so quiet and stale,
we should come closer again.
Acid embraces the world you feel in you heart
rather than the world you bite at,
the world where truth is a polished laugh.
I will make a doll with your name
stitched into the roof of her mouth;
she's a sleeping priest,
a sleeping beast and she'll devour you if you fight.
My gift to you, a poison,
we should come closer again...




Poetry by True Words Embellished
Read 738 times
Written on 2006-11-07 at 11:16

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