Stone castles needn’t withstand

Tempered fate nor to be felled by man

Has he known not the story to be undone?

Should he not know this battle is not to be won?

 

Temptation, dear,

oh, she is nymph’s delight,

To enthrall the tangled vines of life.

Curled around your pinky veins

Pressured; you are unsure and vain…

 

Be it truth or resurrection in its stead:

The lonely always befall a simple fate,

The truth to be given is their fall of faith;

The faith in society, the faith in themselves

 

“Shalt thou keep it at thine own behest,

To hunt the dreams of the mind;

Those meant to shatter all possible ends,

Only to entwine themselves in miasma minds.”

The truth of this world, countered by eyes unseeing,

So says the Book of Cass, 20:16:

or possibly the Book of Cass, 7:12,

Where it simply states of Heaven and Hell

Where damnation is not by judgments,

But how one may see themselves

 

No!

Fate shall not stand strong

At the silence of nature’s most pure song. {begin ramping}

Where 21 grams of granite angels now rest 6 feet deep

Where decency fell to dour silence,

All because family rested on faith

Where life would no longer give tired wings a break

And apathy rested in its station

And they gave no hesitation

With pure acts of deliberation

That caused of the fall of the greatest nation

Where united, we stood

And divided

WE

FELL

So that to too many children,

life is their hell

And death is their bliss

And borrowed glories of yore

Fill their mental emptiness

With nothing but numbness and gore

 

Tempered shackles of fortifications embrace

Let us, instead, accept this fate

Because it is by our own trembling hands

That cup the freedom and liberties that so freely flow to the floor

Through creation of this fatuous tale retold

 

Where smoke and mirror is the truth of the mind

When we must see with the heart and not the eyes

Because the heart always knows

The soul never lies

But how many words are kept behind salt and Adam’s ale eyes ?!

 

Where teardrops crown roses

And whiskers are on chins and not kittens

And dull pot-metal spoons are filled with anthrax and sugar

Because a syringe-full of liquid helps the sadness go down

The pain all go down

The memories go down

 

Because the cursed forge their own path

Once forsaken, they are always forgotten

Let me dawn my crown of winter roses

Calling “So say we all”

And give what is abled in polished marble crypts

Where each vein of shimmer gives us a glimpse

To the secrets that are weaved into this terrible cloth

Where all life goes, where all life is lost

These somber shelves of stories only half told

Where they were ended by their own hand or too old

When heralded is the light blue glow of tv

that emanates like ghastly mirages

Surrounding chipped lead window frames

Of rooms now dark, as the murderous blue glow claims

The life that was once in them

Until only the reminiscence of moments long past

Are what remains

Parading docile women as though they are sheep

And cattle directed to the faraway to be slaughtered

As their silence reverberates in the never ending void of consciousness

Or beauty is only to be born with and not created

where scars are to be damned and not proof that you have lived

when every moment that passes is to be lived in regret.

Now ribbons of toxic thorns trace my veins

and let them find their way to this faltering heart

Palpitations, murmurs…

and it stops…

Shallow follows all that once was

Now to emptiness is the resignation so duly sought

forged in fire,

spontaneous combustions of morals

down in flames ever so silent

erased by a golden sapphire blaze

Proclaim now how deep is your devotion,

Sing your prose, and read your sonnets aloud

Your commendation of needless words is amiss

Your condemnation to harakiri is sealed with a kiss

laced with vinegar and sacrificial blood-reddened lips

Opportunist versus optimist

Simply lay down 1 word that needn’t be revoked

For, with this last step,

We will no longer endure for their sins.