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DIABOLICAL : FORKED TONGUES AND VAMPIRIC PENS VIII
From astral planes to infernal ‘scapes
I have left a rose where I sought her
Midnightmare desires
And the cruelest of pyres
Played like phantasmagorias
Upon the facade of death
I found her heart ‘twixt crucified gods
In the black masque of deviant ones
Those serpentine choirs
‘twined with the throne of liars
Slept in the vomitorium
Staked with the shaft of martyrs
Barred too long from your kingdom
The velvet embrace of your dominion
Writhe on me in your pit of snakes
Zeitgeists die for your grace
In the splendor of your grave
Forked tongues and vampiric pens
I am lost in your verse
The eve of All Hallows curse
I pluck manticore spines from her breasts
Driven home by men less than divine
Self righteous and loathsome
And lost among the ransom
She can’t deny bedevilment
As she spits her witchcraft forth
Kept too long from your gallows
The twisted embrace of your cold Hollow
Writhe on me in your pit of snakes
Zeitgeists die for your grace
In the splendor of your grave
Forked tongues and vampiric pens
I am lost in your verse
The eve of All Hallows curse
And the darkness surrounds me
Like the tangle of a spider’s web
Godless seats, demons staring at me
Laid in a crypt just like the dead
If I could die a thousand times
To glance once more upon her rhyme
I would speak her curse
With a forked tongue
Lo, her vampiric pen
Is it the cruelty in her eyes
Or the seduction between her legs
That beckons the phantoms
Unto her haunted poems?
She is so diabolical
In the beauty of the night
Kept too long from your embrace
The cusp of the night with your carcass
Writhe on me in your pit of snakes
Zeitgeists die for your grace
In the splendor of your grave
Forked tongues and vampiric pens
I am lost in your verse
The eve of All Hallows curse
i am lost in the incantations
that she moans between silken sheets
in throes reserved for elder gods
to desecrate reality
(c) 2017 Frank Green
I have left a rose where I sought her
Midnightmare desires
And the cruelest of pyres
Played like phantasmagorias
Upon the facade of death
I found her heart ‘twixt crucified gods
In the black masque of deviant ones
Those serpentine choirs
‘twined with the throne of liars
Slept in the vomitorium
Staked with the shaft of martyrs
Barred too long from your kingdom
The velvet embrace of your dominion
Writhe on me in your pit of snakes
Zeitgeists die for your grace
In the splendor of your grave
Forked tongues and vampiric pens
I am lost in your verse
The eve of All Hallows curse
I pluck manticore spines from her breasts
Driven home by men less than divine
Self righteous and loathsome
And lost among the ransom
She can’t deny bedevilment
As she spits her witchcraft forth
Kept too long from your gallows
The twisted embrace of your cold Hollow
Writhe on me in your pit of snakes
Zeitgeists die for your grace
In the splendor of your grave
Forked tongues and vampiric pens
I am lost in your verse
The eve of All Hallows curse
And the darkness surrounds me
Like the tangle of a spider’s web
Godless seats, demons staring at me
Laid in a crypt just like the dead
If I could die a thousand times
To glance once more upon her rhyme
I would speak her curse
With a forked tongue
Lo, her vampiric pen
Is it the cruelty in her eyes
Or the seduction between her legs
That beckons the phantoms
Unto her haunted poems?
She is so diabolical
In the beauty of the night
Kept too long from your embrace
The cusp of the night with your carcass
Writhe on me in your pit of snakes
Zeitgeists die for your grace
In the splendor of your grave
Forked tongues and vampiric pens
I am lost in your verse
The eve of All Hallows curse
i am lost in the incantations
that she moans between silken sheets
in throes reserved for elder gods
to desecrate reality
(c) 2017 Frank Green
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