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the hypocrite the wave tumults about like the thunder of a wrathful tempest of the spirit ascending as the great beast of the human fire to fuel the yearning, and the aspiring, and the burning only to plummet from the sky on the wings of icarus a lone comet of desire and its grand sons and daughters shall flee to the calls of a new creed... without brand names and sleeping times nor false modesty and heinous crimes and the gods shall rest from irreverence and mock piety from the cruel and the american and the gods shall rust, rust from ill-use, and corrode, melting away... into the veins of dead presidents. while, harbingers of the era shall be holy unto themselves monks garbed in jeans and black-hooded sweatshirts tasting the toes of prostitutes and from whence it came the conflagration shall be quenched by arid winds and dry breaths that dissolve the smoky quartz veil from hearts, form souls from Passion. © BarrEnSoul, 1999 the maddenings its ascending and festering inundating me with the nothing my heart is thrumming with the waves each raging storm pulls the next intensifying, the power of the ant preparing to let loose, in a funnel of fury i've ravaged my mother's breast laid waste to a priest's pride but i'm still reeling in a dance with my shadow so, have my horse dressed and my helm gleamed and tell my love i'm gone to battle the sea and all else that refuses to rest and order her to hold my mind for she stole my soul just hold it, as i indulge my insanity and frolic in the forest of bisclaravet. i'll be civilized soon with all that droll and all that vanity for now i will hunt and howl, and kill the moon... its pale, smoky stare and let them die nervous under my cackling leer. © BarrEnSoul, 1999 |