deepundergroundpoetry.com
- - - MY THERION - - -
She wears nightshade in her hair
To cover the smell of despair
Those lips so kissable
Unresistable
Endeared with poison
Shaded in the gowns she wears
Porcelain skin reflect star
Light and crimson highlights scars
Withstand the aftermath
A holocaust path
Silk covered lesions
Those amputees in a jar
My severed heart, still fluttering
Hastening with her brood
On churning waves above my grave
In turmoil with ghastly crews
Her lips, they kiss like thorns of bliss
You cannot tame this shrew
What beast is this with claws and hiss
Slumbering in mourning dew?
Perfect in the lunar glow
Just like a goddess on the bow
Behold the Therion
Of the carrion
Spectre in the gloom
Of candles at the show
I spy her name written
On trees where corpses hung
The thorns that grow
Are what we sow
Join me when songs are sung
I spy her in winter
In throes when snowfall come
Her frigid glare
And scarlet hair
Beats my heart like a drum
My severed heart, still fluttering
Hastening with her brood
On churning waves above my grave
In turmoil with ghastly crews
Her lips, they kiss like thorns of bliss
You cannot tame this shrew
What beast is this with claws and hiss
Slumbering in mourning dew?
(c) 2015 Frank Green
To cover the smell of despair
Those lips so kissable
Unresistable
Endeared with poison
Shaded in the gowns she wears
Porcelain skin reflect star
Light and crimson highlights scars
Withstand the aftermath
A holocaust path
Silk covered lesions
Those amputees in a jar
My severed heart, still fluttering
Hastening with her brood
On churning waves above my grave
In turmoil with ghastly crews
Her lips, they kiss like thorns of bliss
You cannot tame this shrew
What beast is this with claws and hiss
Slumbering in mourning dew?
Perfect in the lunar glow
Just like a goddess on the bow
Behold the Therion
Of the carrion
Spectre in the gloom
Of candles at the show
I spy her name written
On trees where corpses hung
The thorns that grow
Are what we sow
Join me when songs are sung
I spy her in winter
In throes when snowfall come
Her frigid glare
And scarlet hair
Beats my heart like a drum
My severed heart, still fluttering
Hastening with her brood
On churning waves above my grave
In turmoil with ghastly crews
Her lips, they kiss like thorns of bliss
You cannot tame this shrew
What beast is this with claws and hiss
Slumbering in mourning dew?
(c) 2015 Frank Green
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1
reading list entries 0
comments 1
reads 719
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.