A Poem For You Dear Friend.
Teardrops where the spiders feed,
Purple razors cutting curtains to the sea
Stripping azure leis from waves through frothing foams
Butterflies singing seaweed songs of loss and Death~
Your father's soul lies buried there in a sailor rum green bottle
Somewhere does he pay the price for the innocence stolen raw,
Your mermaid mother who carved scalpels into your unbelted dreams
With her beautiful voice of song and the black dark scars she left you,
Preserves herself in unholy lists of characters, black mass inverted crosses,
Go live in your midnight meadows gamin child of the streets
Living sacrifice of life lost friends and killing blades gone wrong,
Opening limbs like petals to the Light no human mind may steal away
The years of madness and pain filtering books of imagination turn like pages
Telling stories of sweetness of horror and deep, deep wells too dark to see
Roots of madness recede
Teardrops where the spiders feed
Little Flower, you who bleed
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 1533 times
Written on 2015-05-31 at 20:40
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
You Who Bleed
Little Flower, you who bleedTeardrops where the spiders feed,
Purple razors cutting curtains to the sea
Stripping azure leis from waves through frothing foams
Butterflies singing seaweed songs of loss and Death~
Your father's soul lies buried there in a sailor rum green bottle
Somewhere does he pay the price for the innocence stolen raw,
Your mermaid mother who carved scalpels into your unbelted dreams
With her beautiful voice of song and the black dark scars she left you,
Preserves herself in unholy lists of characters, black mass inverted crosses,
Go live in your midnight meadows gamin child of the streets
Living sacrifice of life lost friends and killing blades gone wrong,
Opening limbs like petals to the Light no human mind may steal away
The years of madness and pain filtering books of imagination turn like pages
Telling stories of sweetness of horror and deep, deep wells too dark to see
Roots of madness recede
Teardrops where the spiders feed
Little Flower, you who bleed
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
Read 1533 times
Written on 2015-05-31 at 20:40
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
Jamsbo Rockda |
|
Rik |
|
F.i.in.e Moods |
