| » Poem: Lone man. (and his dreams) |
Lone man. (and his dreams)
written by Genocide Reaper05:15 AM 10/18/04| A creeking door opens, a cold man steps inside, his eyes bloodshot, his trys bold. You know he has a black heart, with a center of gold, he captures the moment, and pictures a world of destruction and war, yet he's not happy he still wants more, so he continues. Satisfaction in death, pools of blood in grass fields spear punctured bodies lay in the rain soaked battle plains. Swords extending from the hands of men who slay what they will. Chooseing those they wish to kill. Call us psycho soldiers of the new day. A city built from bones and murder, rape of the whores that tried to use pussy as a tool. they act as if what we do is wrong, yet we keep it up, ever strong warriors of the will of unstopible men. An infesting army of Adreneline fueled fire power weilding saviors of the new end. This man won't be happy until he stands upon a tower tall playing his guitar looking down at his new Lore, that will be legend through out history. something that is recognized as insane. But through inflicting pain he finds himself meaning. This man leads an army of outlaws and anarchist, Vigilante number one, Vacine for the virus known as humankind. |
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Author's footnotes and comments on this Poem:
I was outside smoking a cigarette and a few ideas hit me.
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This Poem has been viewed 408 times
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| » Comments / Feedback | by Bloody_Wrist_Angel (10-19-2004 - 01:01 AM)
| OK you are VERY lucky for me to be saying this... i love the way you write poetry. it captures the true art and it is truly great. check out my poetry.. i added some more |
by lilrocsychic (11-10-2004 - 01:24 AM)
| i like your point of view.. i've been looking at a few of your peices.. a bit twisted, but interesting and much like what goes through my mind in black of night when i'm pissed |
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