deepundergroundpoetry.com
MACHINE
- PROLOGUE
From the cradle to the grave
Many visions scar my eyes
When right and wrong blur the lines
Reality slowly dies
Armies of the marching dead
Worship celluloid heroes
Pretend to be something else
Six feet down less than zero
-
I had to have you
Dark incantations and incense burn
Your suffering my only concern
And then I kept you
In an obsidian coffin vase
The ghost of hope on the blood moon's face
The storm crowds the skies
The screams in blackest dreams
We hold each other close
As we face the deep
You came to see me
Adorned in the robes of crimson dead
With rose scented candles burning red
For my poetry
Was dew softened with vestal remains
With whispers in vesper's godless flame
The storm crowds the skies
The dreams of blackest screams
We fall away in night
As we face the deep
respect the live machine
you can't deny the machine
Behold the great cataclysm
We celebrate our scars
A cloud for every silver lining
In every paradise
There's a cataclysm
The masses gather
As the lightning bolts of Zeus plundered
Us of power and raped our thunder
The roaches scatter
As fire reigns over the people
Like you who renounced God's own steeple
The storm crowds the skies
The deepest of blackest dreams
We hold the razor close
To our throats, we scream
respect the grim machine
you can't deny the machine
BEHOLD THE GREAT CATACLYSM
WE CELEBRATE OUR SCARS
A CLOUD FOR EVERY SILVER LINING
IN EVERY PARADISE
THERE IS A CATACLYSM
From the cradle to the grave
Many visions scar my eyes
When right and wrong blur the lines
Reality slowly dies
Armies of the marching dead
Worship celluloid heroes
Pretend to be something else
Six feet down less than zero
-
I had to have you
Dark incantations and incense burn
Your suffering my only concern
And then I kept you
In an obsidian coffin vase
The ghost of hope on the blood moon's face
The storm crowds the skies
The screams in blackest dreams
We hold each other close
As we face the deep
You came to see me
Adorned in the robes of crimson dead
With rose scented candles burning red
For my poetry
Was dew softened with vestal remains
With whispers in vesper's godless flame
The storm crowds the skies
The dreams of blackest screams
We fall away in night
As we face the deep
respect the live machine
you can't deny the machine
Behold the great cataclysm
We celebrate our scars
A cloud for every silver lining
In every paradise
There's a cataclysm
The masses gather
As the lightning bolts of Zeus plundered
Us of power and raped our thunder
The roaches scatter
As fire reigns over the people
Like you who renounced God's own steeple
The storm crowds the skies
The deepest of blackest dreams
We hold the razor close
To our throats, we scream
respect the grim machine
you can't deny the machine
BEHOLD THE GREAT CATACLYSM
WE CELEBRATE OUR SCARS
A CLOUD FOR EVERY SILVER LINING
IN EVERY PARADISE
THERE IS A CATACLYSM
Published 28th Jan 2020
| Edited 8th Jun 2020
Author's Note
© 2020 Frank Green
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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The author encourages honest critique.
28th Jan 2020 1:51pm
I like the message and intensity of this poem. I especially like the stanza :
The storm crowds the skies
The dreams of blackest screams
We fall away in night
As we face the deep
I want to keep it in my quote for my quote collection if that is okay with you?
The storm crowds the skies
The dreams of blackest screams
We fall away in night
As we face the deep
I want to keep it in my quote for my quote collection if that is okay with you?
29th Jan 2020 3:58am
