Tag Archives: religion

It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Psychosis

Good morning, everyone! I’ve got a post today that I think you’ll be quite fond of. Perhaps you’ll gain some insight, perhaps you’ll gain some enjoyment. Whatever the case, I think you’ll be intrigued. Without further ado… Please read responsibly.

Company

Can you hear?

The sounding of the drum?

The beat,

the chorus?

Sitting there between the shadows,

kicking my feet at the edge of the world.

All alone now

in the quiet dark.

The contrast has never before felt quite so stark.

Those drums again,

there,

in the distance.

Can you hear them?

Hoofbeats that draw ever closer.

I think He’ll be coming soon.

No matter,

I needed the company.

Rhythmic tones beat in tune with every thump and thud

inside this broken God.

The motor’s out.

I’ll scream and shout.

No matter,

I needed the company.

The Banks of The River Lethe

Good afternoon, everyone. You have died. You stand here, like those heroes of old, on the banks of that sacred river Lethe. Your ascent to the heavenly realms of Paradiso now secured, you step carefully into the dark and starkly opaque water. Your sins, desires and memories washed away in sacred bliss. As a child again, you are innocent, no longer condemned, but redeemed. Welcome to the rest of forever. Without further ado…

Settling Debts

Haunting orbs

drift across the water.

They come towards me,

stealing away my light.

I am fading.

I flash and flicker;

I am the torch over which your fingers

quickly pass.

The specters

take my flame.

They wear it

and make themselves whole.

I am as the hearth

in that certain dearth

that follows November.

Swept away,

is all my heat.

Through the mist

is seen defeat.

I know why they’ve come:

The debt of one infernal sum.

I cannot pay,

I’m ashamed to say.

This will make their day.

Flitting on Forgotten Wings

Good morning, everyone! I have for you today a piece which I have freshly written, so freshly, in fact, that it still smells of warm ink and the sweat of my hands. Like warm bread, I would hope that you enjoy what I’ve managed to bake up for you today. Without further ado…

Perception of the Mass

To die upon your crossed arms,

a fall from grace so fed by charms

would be so sweet and free from harms.

It would not be

that Pontius Pilate

determines my fate,

for such a thing

now seems so trite.

Willful masters know their place,

looking in the mirror

and finding their face.

Do you not harm,

but simply farm

that sorrow which you carefully guard.

In the eyes of a dog

is reflected one ghastly visage

of one most malevolent demagogue.

Make your choice,

knowing all the while

that what you do

matters to you.