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Karl Ruprecht Kroenen
Everything goes to hell...
my dear  
11th-Jun-2012 08:33 pm

Not caring, truly blinded

I leave this box with twisted face

and everything you ever wanted, white, against glass

Dead as names from bellies tightened

Something must be done about this

They have robbed us of a cheapened life

Permit us only a sense of pity, brought on by brutality

and unconcerned eyes

Lives in squalor, sick, or in prison

The doors, old gain, all night, caught nothing

A member of that body, that one-minded memory alone

No razor nor fermented liquids in fulgent power

Shall gain dominion over death

Fast-moving, crazy, wandering

Nature's mutation of ghastly fate

Heavy canvas holding cave-like drip-rot

One hand whines in deep space-time,

Halfway down my death watch ticks

This sermon of agony draws all my attention away from the years

No great outcry of bodies in godless commotion

Look at their dauntless courage to this good news

Black night hearts leading them astray

and these heroic deeds done in leaping blaze

Across centuries of mental ascent

Should we resign such human frailties?

as in heaven's tongue, confess

and if this outline is a blueprint of fear, turn away

Seeds spilt then altered by day-frowning signs

Yellow slowly in smolders

Do we not occupy such thrones?

The proof of scars catching man in his own trap of salvation

It is the positive core of checks and balances

It is not in fire's abrogated fate

Is it a stirring reaffirmation of hope's final warfare?

Are we not restrained in mourning starred indulgence?

Standing at the gate, slave as royal shift

A smear of wasp-sized jewels glitter madly

As the throat is cut from ear to ear

Ever widening circles engulf these molten days

So that love and mercy might walk in newness

Active faith, a unity we know must never be broken

On the other hand, you are a brother of foreign land

a green-eyed monster

Separated from the sphere of truth before sin

and we shall view the resurrection of the dead,

Come to know the end of human foldings

A graceless life, already spent

And leaf of evening rains

One crack in this otherwise seamless egg

- Rozz Williams
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