deepundergroundpoetry.com
autumns song
eyes of water
deep as black
lips of torture
kerosine breath
its the month of death
o wretched smell
molded corpse of the one who fell
creatures crawl to feast
on the succulence of beast
there's a party in the empty head
crackled leaves pattern the bed
the soil moist and red
flowers dry
all that was to die
one more time to play
autumns song.
deep as black
lips of torture
kerosine breath
its the month of death
o wretched smell
molded corpse of the one who fell
creatures crawl to feast
on the succulence of beast
there's a party in the empty head
crackled leaves pattern the bed
the soil moist and red
flowers dry
all that was to die
one more time to play
autumns song.
Published 1st Oct 2011
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1st Oct 2011 11:41pm
It's very clever how, whether intentionally or no, you left the first four lines without a rhyme, this way the rest of the piece felt as if speeding on ice. It created a literary death-trap, I like that. Finally the last line and the lack of rhyme, clever again. Impressive, makes me feel a little stumped.
2nd Oct 2011 4:42am
Anonymous
3rd Oct 2011 4:11am
well written and i agree with libert
25th Jan 2012 1:41pm
