A dark poem for dark days...

Let Me Kill The Bastard

See me standing there,
eyes closed to the world.
No more laughter,
holding together the seams.
Beauty surrounding the orchard of life,
Little lies,
leading to the fall,
of man sleeping.
Scared of the sin to come stalking,
the calm soul.
No choice,
the clock is ticking away,
the jester dies.
More than paper to be shredded,
a heart lets go.
Gather the escaping,
the hold
let go of the lie.
Defile the birth,
shame the name,
a gift of holding.
Sad wilted flower of death,
thorns cutting flesh and bone.
Fragrance of life,
softly wisps of hope fade.
Skin velvet rose pale,
with lust smooth she moans.
Stealing the innocence,
human kind betrayed.
Wilted flower,
petals all astray,
falling in erratic dancing flames.
The concept of knowing,
is only an illusion,
information wasted,
with nothing to gain.
All these so called profits,
lurking in the darkness.
On our weak,
they will and still do prey.
Step up to me,
spare the man who kills.
Spare the man,
spare the insanity.
Let me kill the bastard,
again and again and again........


Poetry by Allmax
Read 890 times
Written on 2005-12-11 at 19:35

Tags Death  Sorrow  Dark 

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Dark indeed. Frustration, rage, almost desperation, but also a distinct sensual tone in these lines.