Submissions by Genesis (Genesis Sutcliff)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
What ever I write, it comes from the experiences I´ve lived.
You choose
Captives?
Slaves?
Prejudiced?
By who?
(Are you clinging to pity?)
Christians.
You who claim to be hated,
You who claim are rejected by the world,
Open your eyes!
(Do you mock those of us who really are)
I claim not against your God,
But truly you are in no peril.
You own so much of the world,
Yet you claim to own but a grain.
(Why?)
You say you are scorned and looked down upon,
Yet you call me and my kind heathens?
You claim against Muslums because of extemists?
I could claim against you for the Crusades...
Slaves?
Prejudiced?
By who?
(Are you clinging to pity?)
Christians.
You who claim to be hated,
You who claim are rejected by the world,
Open your eyes!
(Do you mock those of us who really are)
I claim not against your God,
But truly you are in no peril.
You own so much of the world,
Yet you claim to own but a grain.
(Why?)
You say you are scorned and looked down upon,
Yet you call me and my kind heathens?
You claim against Muslums because of extemists?
I could claim against you for the Crusades...
652 reads
3 Comments
Hypocrite
Tick, tock,
Check the clock.
Time for me to feed,
and flesh is what I need.
Red, bloody flesh is my desire,
the only one that sets my heart on fire.
I always notice my body quivering,
every nerve shivering...
...Legion sets in...
Time for the blood feast to begin
I hunger for violence,
For throats to fall into silence.
I am Legion reborn,
The one everyone will scorn.
Look upon me,
Do I apear normal to thee?
No, for I have kept the secret deep inside,
Now I have to decide.
Will this unsatiable...
Check the clock.
Time for me to feed,
and flesh is what I need.
Red, bloody flesh is my desire,
the only one that sets my heart on fire.
I always notice my body quivering,
every nerve shivering...
...Legion sets in...
Time for the blood feast to begin
I hunger for violence,
For throats to fall into silence.
I am Legion reborn,
The one everyone will scorn.
Look upon me,
Do I apear normal to thee?
No, for I have kept the secret deep inside,
Now I have to decide.
Will this unsatiable...
720 reads
4 Comments
The golden flower
Love.
It is a perfect balance of innocence made of glory,
like a golden flower.
Too much innocence, and you are stepped on.
Too much glory, and you are corrupted.
You search and search,
yet you never manage to find it.
Those who you thought were like ice,
firmly in your grasp,
only melted into water,
and you lost them without knowing.
That is, until it was too late,
and you heard the last drop splash.
Then again, you could find it.
That golden flower with a fragrance so sweet,
it intoxicates you,
and you never...
It is a perfect balance of innocence made of glory,
like a golden flower.
Too much innocence, and you are stepped on.
Too much glory, and you are corrupted.
You search and search,
yet you never manage to find it.
Those who you thought were like ice,
firmly in your grasp,
only melted into water,
and you lost them without knowing.
That is, until it was too late,
and you heard the last drop splash.
Then again, you could find it.
That golden flower with a fragrance so sweet,
it intoxicates you,
and you never...
627 reads
0 Comments
Song of Night
The gentile breeze is blowing upon my face,
so cool and relaxing as i sit upon my tree.
Breathing in the crisp clean scents of the night further relaxes,
as I start to drift away,
with the sound of leaves swaying to the rhyhm of the wind.
I listen to the song.
Have you heard it?
Its the one where the owl takes center stage,
and the crickets play the melody.
It has no beginning,
yet the end is just as far away.
It is the song of sleep.
It is the song of the heavens.
It is the song of the earth.
It is the song of the oceans.
It is the...
so cool and relaxing as i sit upon my tree.
Breathing in the crisp clean scents of the night further relaxes,
as I start to drift away,
with the sound of leaves swaying to the rhyhm of the wind.
I listen to the song.
Have you heard it?
Its the one where the owl takes center stage,
and the crickets play the melody.
It has no beginning,
yet the end is just as far away.
It is the song of sleep.
It is the song of the heavens.
It is the song of the earth.
It is the song of the oceans.
It is the...
613 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Genesis (Genesis Sutcliff)