the title and the thornographic part is on loan from Cradle of Filth, other than that, this is to be read in a rambling and chanting way, like something in between the wrestler Delirious and Shakespeare after to much absinthe...


A leap of twisted fate



psychosomatic thornographic images of the unknown
appear to me in prophetic dreams
accompanied by pathetic screams
of nameless clowns

they dance as I repeat myself
I bleed myself
repeat myself
the bleeding self
repeats itself
repeats my self
the bleeding self

stains the world in confusing patterns
an abstract map of
something else
another way to fall
another horror shouting out to us all

all will perish
in the wake of inhuman tears
carried by a poisonous flood
in the tsunami of despair
there is something in the air
catch it and abuse it
deconstruct it and mass-produce it

sell it to our ignorant youth
in pink plastic packages of pop
and let them feast on
this copy of an imitation
hide all valuable information
of the original abomination

the chemiracolous creature still lives
in every twisted circus soul
in every bottomless black hole
and you haven't sealed it off
in a practical religious container
and wrapped it in the cotton of the damned

you cannot hide
it will find you
the candle of doom
will surely blind you
I will find you
we will find you

riding on demented brainstorms
tormented worms ready to unfold their dark wings
on rusted wheels of fate
bicycles of purest hate
for those who renewed their scars
in great battles under fading stars
they are damned

condemned to walk from the house of Hel
and where the road may lead
only time will tell



Poetry by Michael Dyst
Read 475 times
Written on 2007-06-18 at 21:41

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