deepundergroundpoetry.com
Clash Of Hunt(ers)ington
Darkness
inside the womb.
ego screams(at)
the light
from the four corners
of mother.
But we,
pray to prey
upon the altar
of
horsemen (4);
pink mists
splashing
through
huma(ss)nity,
the torn skin of children
and
blood debts.
The candle we hold
burns the hands
of the thirsty
who warm their fingers
over the light,
and beg for water.
We,
who are the will of God
become God(fell).
inside the womb.
ego screams(at)
the light
from the four corners
of mother.
But we,
pray to prey
upon the altar
of
horsemen (4);
pink mists
splashing
through
huma(ss)nity,
the torn skin of children
and
blood debts.
The candle we hold
burns the hands
of the thirsty
who warm their fingers
over the light,
and beg for water.
We,
who are the will of God
become God(fell).
Published 17th Dec 2011
| Edited 19th Dec 2011
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 3
reading list entries 0
comments 2
reads 812
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
Anonymous
19th Dec 2011 5:52pm
Hi, Matthew!
This is a more evolved style from you, and I like it!
Your opening should be capitalized. I stumbled a bit at first, and I feel you could strike a few "the's" from the third and fourth strophes.
Example:
ego screams (at)
the light
from the four corners
of mother.
"pink mists splashing" Very graphic and telling. To be the hand of God/death almost in a removed fashion, looking down the scope and pulling the trigger that ends someones future. The poem at this point fully takes off and sings all the way to its embittered end. It is at once graceful and harrowing.
This is a more evolved style from you, and I like it!
Your opening should be capitalized. I stumbled a bit at first, and I feel you could strike a few "the's" from the third and fourth strophes.
Example:
ego screams (at)
the light
from the four corners
of mother.
"pink mists splashing" Very graphic and telling. To be the hand of God/death almost in a removed fashion, looking down the scope and pulling the trigger that ends someones future. The poem at this point fully takes off and sings all the way to its embittered end. It is at once graceful and harrowing.
19th Dec 2011 6:55pm
