deepundergroundpoetry.com
BLOOD WINE : SOUL TITHE
Black was the sunrise
That fell upon foreign land
Where the somatic plague
Soaked the fields with blood
Maimed catharsis
The ailment of allure
In wealth and in power
A wanton dance with mirrors
All rise for the holiest of sacrifice
Ubiquitous display, fruitless waste
Their eyes rust with the scythe
The pyre inflamed
With every senseless taste, a soul is paid
Fallen into pandemonium
Bitter hirudinean flowers
Cry from safety of the threshold
Their thorns deep in those deceived
Blank is the epitaph
For martyred thousands wrote
A fear that overshadowed prayer
As hell on earth awoke
All rise for the holiest of sacrifice
Ubiquitous display, fruitless waste
Their eyes rust with the scythe
The pyre inflamed
With every senseless taste, a soul is paid
Inflamed was the pyre
A whirlwind of greed-fueled fire
That hungered for divinity
And struck down its own desire
Published 12th Dec 2017
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12th Dec 2017 12:33pm
12th Dec 2017 9:55pm
Amazing! Well crafted. I reread several times over as I felt it necessary to fully grasp it. You paint quite the picture. Poetry that draws you in is good poetry. Thank you
6th Jan 2023 2:42am
Their thorns deep in those deceived, the deceived usually have more thorns than the ones doing the deceiving; as we are left more damaged
