Diaries Of Primeval Tragedies

Angry are the clouds which anesthetize
 Former besetting episodes of assertive pain
 An overwhelming blend of harmonious mirth & awe
 Proclaims with much pride-dawn's out bursting rage
 Cometh ye all astounded faces
 I plea to thee-hear me now or nevermore
 Poor puzzled pieces of human wreckage
 Your wounds of heart & soul may heal-when shared
 Surround me with your precious presence
 My only request for now-is your dearest patience
 Cull the words which portray your might
 From miserable tiny pebbles-to stones of awesome sights
 From rotting pallets filled with mold & mice
 From grey hidden corners contaminated by the diseases of the soul which dies
 Red shiny ink spills our luxuriant opera on-yellow dusty pages
 Bathe with sweet nectar flowing from-aching mind-cages
 Looking back-glaring at life
 All these years of death-from Christs murderous knife
 The drought which, bit by bit, gnawed our pride-
 Insulting holy lies which poisoned meadows of the true dark-guide
 Absorb with joy-the sweet new blood
 Filling every heart-beat and instincts-slumber yet starved
 Find me your poets, bring forth your bards
 Let them sing kisses of evil to other world-parts
 I can hear the owl recite
 Diaries of primeval tragedies which confide
 Truth & knowledge of matters we must tend
 In theaters of witchcraft-we pretend
 The craving of dreams to form the prophecy
 Open vein-shaped roads resembling our complex-conspiracy
 The rythem of the march excite to tears in our eyes
 Don't other dare bark towards us-lest we rid them like flies
 See my trembling cut open fingers
 They remind me of the incredible secret which still lingers
 Free yourself from all those lies which are told so often
 For now our referendoms web-is catiously woven
 Follow that trail left by the witches-most dark & pale
 Embellish poetry in veins to breed
 Together to submerge & sublimely-bleed
 Restless retch anchors of holy clay
 And gather triumphs to harvest in the golden fields of may