In the night time wonderland of the malevolent moon that prospers <br />The bloody stench of death stains the blackening petals of the rose <br />The rose that honours the decaying of the fallen and the gutless <br />Throw me the wreath that I shall lay at the feet of the mighty oak <br />And may we continue our battle of the skulls that fall from hell <br />And together we shall dwell in this old world where the fearless are feared <br />And the rain falls crimson on the guiltless pallid robes we adorn <br />A world that we are born into as the guilty victims of pleasures to beastiality <br />I stand and stare at the mischievous sprite in the face all the while <br />Internal bleeding seeping through the broken heart bleating at my swollen flesh <br />Spiritual minds condones the sadistic natures as we stand <br />We stand and we wait until we witness the life that grows from the weeping blood <br />Another skull falls as our backs are turned to the brutality called time <br />Hand in hand I walk with the standing breathing torso of sin <br />Passing the rotten appendages, I lower my head and let my face shroud <br />It hides beneath the strangly drapes as I walk away from the Oakland cenotaph <br />And I will turn back only to live it all again <br /> <br /> <br />© Pamela James-Blackwood 2007<br /><br />Pamela James Blackwood<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-falling/
