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Literature Text
With a bible in one hand, a gun in the other,
The vagabond sought a red devil to smother.
Sipping moonlight like moonshine, and drunk out of his mind,
He stunk of reality, redefined and refined.
With good scotch on his tongue, and the good book in his blood,
He ripped at the skies and clawed through the mud
O'er many a hill and a corpse of good men
He found only sin in each quick second spent.
With a bible in one hand, a gun in the other,
The madman could tell not the devil from brother.
The vagabond sought a red devil to smother.
Sipping moonlight like moonshine, and drunk out of his mind,
He stunk of reality, redefined and refined.
With good scotch on his tongue, and the good book in his blood,
He ripped at the skies and clawed through the mud
O'er many a hill and a corpse of good men
He found only sin in each quick second spent.
With a bible in one hand, a gun in the other,
The madman could tell not the devil from brother.
Literature
Deletion
I am the deep silent rage
Of deletion itself
Dare not speak my true name
Or unleash chaos
Upon your realm
I will awaken however
Upon your call
Utter the forbidden speakings
And I shall obey
And erase it all
I will not rest
My essence will pulsate
Until your request is complete
I will carry out your word
I will leave no star still lit
So dare not speak my true name
If you care for all that exists
Literature
The Alchemist
You place your faith
In the maps and charts
Of fools.
You seek what God could never give
To those mighty Conquistadors,
Resplendent buffoons in pantaloons
Searching for a lie.
The fire dances tonight
In your inkwells and your elements.
It overlooks
The shirts, phantom-pressed,
And countless cups of tea
Undrunk, now cold.
The gold
You really desire lies beyond
The Aztecs and the Incas. It lurks
In you. Drag it out, screaming,
Into the pitch midnight
And then, maybe, you will see:
The treasure was always here.
You just needed to claim it.
Literature
you're ruining your teeth
i think i
lost my way with words -
maggot-skulled,
i've unlearned imagery
or:
13 cavities
rotting to
bone-crowns &
starvation-poetry
Suggested Collections
Featured in Groups
Cigarette Paid DebtsA roadside dime-dancer, porcelain skinned,
Donned a skirt far to short and lay stinking of gin;
Her hair, chopped and inked,was knotted and greased,
Living on the penniless men of the streets,
Looking to woo an old wealthy escort
To make up for lost time and late child support.
And the slick-back black daddies, they came and they went,
Paying for bittersweet dances with stale cigarettes,
And the winds roared and breathed, kicking up the dust
Around the girl with no love, but plenty of lust.
The Rulers of the SeasonsAphrodite, my dearest epitome of springtime,
Quaffing flowery flares as your dark storm clouds climb
Selfish vanities flooding April's chromaticity out
Ere Apollo's hideous glare shines your May bleached with drought
The golden summer that Ra mercilessly allows
Oppressing heat beats the precious sweat off of your brow
For every child caught giggling with sunlight in their lungs
Another meets black Anubis with thirst on their tongues
As Morigan's autumn, swift as the crow flies
Allowing leaves to stop their begging to die
Knowing change is welcome, killing all she holds dear
Until even Bile`'s cold grasp starts shaking with fear
Loki breathes laughter with a wintery chill
Freezing time with a blanket and life going still
His mischievous snowflakes dancing o'er the land
Until they are melted by Freyja’s impassioned hand
The Penny JesterHere we see, the king of fools,
the champion of minimum wage,
His jester's hat defeated twinkles
echo in his greasy cage
A smile of 99 cent sequins
is pasted on his cross-stitched lips;
Dancing gaily with eviction slips
and a silken pouch of pennied tips.
For more of my work, see my facebook page: www.facebook.com/HanaKPoetry
© 2013 - 2024 Emerald-Alexandria
Comments5
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Well, fuck. This is awesome.
(I often find too much solace in sadness and confliction, and it's because it's all so dramatic. I say this because I think my first two sentences needed some justification.)
The fog of religion and the two ideals translated from love and hate are far too confusing. There's this constant manipulation that the Devil holds, and it can drive you mad: figuring out whether the word of God is compelling you or the treachery of Satan. Only God would know about anything akin to fate, so how are we to know which will is good and which is bad? This is why--as I'm sure you've guessed--I like this so much.
(I often find too much solace in sadness and confliction, and it's because it's all so dramatic. I say this because I think my first two sentences needed some justification.)
The fog of religion and the two ideals translated from love and hate are far too confusing. There's this constant manipulation that the Devil holds, and it can drive you mad: figuring out whether the word of God is compelling you or the treachery of Satan. Only God would know about anything akin to fate, so how are we to know which will is good and which is bad? This is why--as I'm sure you've guessed--I like this so much.