Parody of Life
In graveyard mists, walk silhouettes,
in parody of life,
their empty souls, unbeating hearts,
in deep immortal strife.
Compassion died within those graves,
and lies there buried still,
they prey upon the living,
their bloodlust to fulfil.
No yearning plea or sobbing prayer,
their hunger deigns to hear,
they drink the blood filled chalice,
made sweet by mortal fear.
Foul daylight with its burning smile,
is shunned with deep disdain,
until those cursed, unfeeling dead,
rise to feed again..
in parody of life,
their empty souls, unbeating hearts,
in deep immortal strife.
Compassion died within those graves,
and lies there buried still,
they prey upon the living,
their bloodlust to fulfil.
No yearning plea or sobbing prayer,
their hunger deigns to hear,
they drink the blood filled chalice,
made sweet by mortal fear.
Foul daylight with its burning smile,
is shunned with deep disdain,
until those cursed, unfeeling dead,
rise to feed again..
Your Eyes Beckon My Fall
Falling ever deeper, into eyes of dark deceit,
my mind becomes confusion, I worship at your feet.
Lens of deep entrapment, permeate my soul,
let me drown in silence, make my being whole.
I do not care for life, I do not fear death,
my plea of unimportance, lingers on my breath.
Your eyes of soft persuasion, see my fragile heart,
it’s you I crave abundant, I cast all doubt apart.
Reflect my imperfection, caress my sacrifice,
become my fell confession, in darkness you entice.
Lead me where you will, I crave my lifes demise,
as I ever kneel beside you, and live within your eyes.
my mind becomes confusion, I worship at your feet.
Lens of deep entrapment, permeate my soul,
let me drown in silence, make my being whole.
I do not care for life, I do not fear death,
my plea of unimportance, lingers on my breath.
Your eyes of soft persuasion, see my fragile heart,
it’s you I crave abundant, I cast all doubt apart.
Reflect my imperfection, caress my sacrifice,
become my fell confession, in darkness you entice.
Lead me where you will, I crave my lifes demise,
as I ever kneel beside you, and live within your eyes.
Box of Demented Voices
"Good evening" said the barman "would you like a drink ?"
So I took a glass of guilt, I needed time to think.
"The bitch is dead" I told him, the barman looked quite pale,
I drank a double mouthful, then told him my sad tale.
She ripped my heart to pieces, then laughed right in my face,
so I called a guy I’d heard of, he met me at my place.
"Death is just too good for her, the bitch should rot in hell"
He smiled and then he answered, would you like a spell ?
'The box of demented voices', I’ve got one going cheap
it drives the sane to madness , kills them while they weep.
He handed me the box , with serpents either side,
I bought it without thinking, compassion in me died..
I hid the box inside her house, her first screams were the best,
screams of mortal torment, a soul in pain posseseed.
She did not die the first night, she reeked of foul decay,
her skin was drawn and sallow, her mind a black bouquet.
Next nights screams were better, anguish bathed in pain,
I heard her beg for mercy, I heard her beg again.
The last time that I saw her I gloated at her dread,
her eyes were black delusion, the light within them dead.
Her skin had cracked and festered, her lips were pale and torn,
insanity inside her, her face it did adorn.
They buried her this morning, my vengeance is now whole,
the price will be my penance. The box cost me my soul.
So I took a glass of guilt, I needed time to think.
"The bitch is dead" I told him, the barman looked quite pale,
I drank a double mouthful, then told him my sad tale.
She ripped my heart to pieces, then laughed right in my face,
so I called a guy I’d heard of, he met me at my place.
"Death is just too good for her, the bitch should rot in hell"
He smiled and then he answered, would you like a spell ?
'The box of demented voices', I’ve got one going cheap
it drives the sane to madness , kills them while they weep.
He handed me the box , with serpents either side,
I bought it without thinking, compassion in me died..
I hid the box inside her house, her first screams were the best,
screams of mortal torment, a soul in pain posseseed.
She did not die the first night, she reeked of foul decay,
her skin was drawn and sallow, her mind a black bouquet.
Next nights screams were better, anguish bathed in pain,
I heard her beg for mercy, I heard her beg again.
The last time that I saw her I gloated at her dread,
her eyes were black delusion, the light within them dead.
Her skin had cracked and festered, her lips were pale and torn,
insanity inside her, her face it did adorn.
They buried her this morning, my vengeance is now whole,
the price will be my penance. The box cost me my soul.
