Land is as sweet as the siren's call. To those whom roam directionless, their significance seems small. Acts of desperation, sailing the ocean of the past. Land is but an illusion; sanity will not last.
I will not turn my head away, when the fires have spawned and the king starts his purge; When the bodies ascend and the good are spared. I have no interest in this gift, as if by some pity you spared me. I laid my own path You, simply won't save me.
i do not condemn those who have purpose in life; however, one will go blind when staring at light.
I shut my eyes and turned them on my heart.
- As a man calls for wine before he fights,
- I asked one draught of earlier, happier sights,
Ere fitly I could hope to play my part.Think first, fight afterwards – the soldier’s art:
- One taste of the old time sets all to rights.
I will venture downward into the darkest thoughts of man; free ideas which have sunken to the deepest depths of quick sand Thoughts which remain ancient and covered in tar, these disfigured monsters repressed our glory. The poet's burden is to travel further, find these abominates, and tell their story.
Food for the famine; an ancient decay. since my birth I was starved I've grown weary everyday. Buried under years of sand sharp stings from rapid winds. the desert sun kills all life, with each itch, births new sins. Raging on this ancient decay; buckets of water to simmer the rot. this stress; a war; an endless loop, a curse to whomever opens this thought.
serenity peaks as darkness evaporates; the murky sky sends signals of light. with sun rays reflecting of the shiny tar in this blissful moment, all is right. moments prior, it was only darkness, the steamy nothingness absorbed all senses. darkness threatened the hope of liberation, as no man can penetrate its defenses.