.
(snap my picture
take my shades off
beat me up with lights and flashes.
media you know me best.)
we're lost in the radio
we're calling on our static selves
give us time, give us more;
let up that bass and feel.
when the stars set sights on a moon base
when the gods left us behind
it was the darkness we faced, in trepidation
in fierce denial
my friends, recent and old, everything and all,
deluded thoughts they deemed commandments;
underhanded Crowley
selling souls to all that face the open road.
forgotten are the snapped strings
cracked pyramids, babylonian rings, those with a thousand faces
leave them in the two-wheel dust.
heart and fists, belong to the trustworthy
those iron in blood, iron in will
(no devil-skippers
are brothers of mine, the ones who vague
and cant comprehend)
the un-confrontational of the blind and few,
leave me where you want me
you're no sons of mine.
[A/N: I'll admit i was listening to a s***ton of metal when i wrote this, very hasty and unedited motivation. but i have a loose philosophy that its good to share "had to get it out of my system" writing, and thus this was published]
YOU ARE READING
NEW HEARTS & COLD SEAS
Poetrywhen they seek you out because they know they can, because they know they can get away with it - anonymity is your friend.
