Rahsash Geldich Posted August 9, 2002 Report Share Posted August 9, 2002 There is some poetry only written in the dead of the night So that the words can be whispered then hid out of sight The wounds they would cause are but mirages in the sun Hushed hatred flows like a maggot prayer, no room to run. And the poem of a prayer is staining the muse's lips Take a deep breath. Wait; breathe life in little tasting sips Who knows what poison had infiltrated us all now? What is promised with pretty words, they now disavow. Although the darkness that looms can reach up to the sky, Somehow, in the pitch, its reach is not quite so high. Murmur your words my children, let them flow in rivers. Yes, they're acherontic; but what delightful shivers! Lift the prayers skyward, watch them drift away on the wind. Cimmerian words are lost in the night, none have sinned. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
reverie Posted August 11, 2002 Report Share Posted August 11, 2002 I like this... an idea of all the hateful things we think, but never show reaching a delighted dark muse somewhere... nice concept... just give a small suggestion structure wise... maybe it's just the computer screen's bias... but i find breaking up the stanza is easier on the eyes... and illustrates rythem better... just my two cents... and maybe throw a 'though' in front of 'none of sinned' at the end... or an 'and' or something... sorry my brain cries out for another word there... too many years in band i guess... ending in candances and whatnot... revery the dreamlost "energy should flow cyclic..." the dream continues... There is some poetry only written in the dead of the night So that the words can be whispered then hid out of sight The wounds they would cause are but mirages in the sun Hushed hatred flows like a maggot prayer, no room (left) to run. And the poem of a prayer is staining the muse's lips Take a deep breath. Wait; breathe life in little tasting sips Who knows what poison had infiltrated us all now? What is promised with pretty words, they now disavow. Although the darkness that looms can reach up to the sky, Somehow, in the pitch, its reach is not quite so high. Murmur your words my children, let them flow in rivers. Yes, they're acherontic; but what delightful shivers! Lift the prayers skyward, watch them drift away on the wind. Cimmerian words are lost in the night, none have sinned. Which Colossal Death Robot Are You?Edited by: reverie at: 8/11/02 8:02:46 am Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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