lordsmeagol Posted January 16, 2003 Report Posted January 16, 2003 Nervous of life and flesh as the canvas spreads forth. Destroy what is whole and wholesome to conjure new images of a desecrated field. Blood and fester freely breed in an ichors pool of pox. Religious zealots smearing all in a baptismal of reds and blacks. Soul sacrifice of innocent to birth pain within an umbilical embrace. The lice of righteousness feed on all.
Rune Posted January 20, 2003 Report Posted January 20, 2003 I've been sitting on this poem for a few days. For the life of me I cannot come up with what I want to say. It's so dark.. and yet feels very very true. The imagery hits you like a ton of bricks which to me makes the poem very effective. Tis good, lordsmeagol, tis very very good.
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