Sunday, March 16, 2025

Why Not Poetry

  Sixty Down One Hundred High

Melted light

A magic mirror

Break the ugly

Break the lovely

Charm it all

Into beauty

Blend it freshly

For my eyes




Orbitals

Earth and moon

Parent child

Circle dance

Shade and light

God and me

One and all

Orbital

Mechanics

In quantum

Phasing in

Fading out

Blurring here

Being there

Orbitals

Reality



Holyman


Our prophet is a madman

And his ravings taste of truth 


We are hungry and alone

The fires are burning low

The world we know is ending

We don’t know what will come


We cannot sit and idle

We will fight before we die

If we lash out hard and often

Surely something must be struck



So if we strike out blindly

Then admit at least we fight

Though all the lies are madness

They lend a shard of hope


Hope feeds not the stomach

It’s a panacea for the plague

The world will end tomorrow

Yet we still have our pride


Skies break above our heads

They shatter the sweet night

The cold inhabits all our souls

Lords of Chaos eat our hearts


The moon is quickly melting

 The stars are burning out

The demons rise from hell

And the world’s reduced to dust


Still we have fangs and claws

Our monsters dwell inside us

We are the nest that nurtures

The gotterdammering that we crave


Glory to our death we cry

We die not lonely or alone

We die united and as one

We die loud and proud


Our prophet is a madman

And his ravings taste of truth

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