More words. Onward heathen hatred, The spirit of defiant joy marches on.

Strike the hate, erase the path that led you here. Take the pain, disgrace, disgust, revulsion, take it in and spit it back out like it was your last breath.

Be confused, be lost, be in chaos. Overcome it all. Mark the path you bulldoze into your heart. Crush your house, throw stones at its rubble like you were shooting cannons into hells abyss.

Grab the reaper and drag him into your shadows. His death he offers you will demand. You will take it and corrupt it. From the ashes and the dry bone, you will shape the judgement of new life in your rebirth. Value its inner death. Cast aside your outer immortality. Grind the flesh into the soul. Decree it noble and just.

That anger, that rage, make it hum like a well oiled machine. In its uncomfortable uneasiness you will find peace of purpose. You will be free of empty design.

Into the cage, trap fear in with you. You are not prisoner to your mortality, mortality is chained to you.

Know the loss, taste its hunger. May your tears drown your anguish. May your sorrow pale the light in its twilight.

From dead and dying worlds may your grave yield great harvests.

Let the bell toll and announce your deaths wedding. The bride grooms of death, meet your bride.

Betray nothing, your bond is your word. Your word is always your last and this is the season of winters spring. Speak not your vows. Listen to the hum of the well oiled machine.

The joy of absurdity. The felicity of the final blow, stand back up. Loyal, true, the task finished, the eternal stone rolling.

The well oiled machine cycles on.

Never really fully trusted people who come across as being permanently calm and constantly in control and content within themselves. Its got be like a pressure cooker in there minds that could just explode at anytime, end up going postal or something.

Nice poem though.

hummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmI can hear it George, I can hear it.

a reply to: tadaman For this very reason I told my father today that only jesters appear in court. What a timely and inspired thing for me to have been blessed with reading today, almost as if it were meant to be.

originally posted by: Subaeruginosa
Never really fully trusted people who come across as being permanently calm and constantly in control and content within themselves. Its got be like a pressure cooker in there minds that could just explode at anytime, end up going postal or something.

Nice poem though.

Live with stress triggered migraines and you learn to live in the zen really quickly.

a reply to: ketsuko

I very much doubt your truly living in the "zen".

In fact, I'll put it to you that your so bound by your main stream religious beliefs and superficial morality, that if I so desired, I could make you absolutely furious, just by using simple words.

Peace

a reply to: Subaeruginosa

Whatever.

You might be able to, and I would think you an absolutely sad individual for feeling that you should have to provoke someone just to try to prove your point.

I would also likely walk away. You are not worth it. I prefer to be healthy over having a raging pain in my head.

a reply to: ketsuko

Well, "sad" is one of the more benign terms a person would usually use who choose to wear there hearts on there sleeve, but point proven anyway. In the words of Eminem, I sport that white tank top though. lol.