entwine thee my soul...

and would you?

in the rage of my youth

yes...you do forebear

yes it is not

as autumn turns

and winter brings

thy sight entangled with such forlorn

stricken by the brazen wantoness

the excess

for I am your servant

or so it may seem

under the light

or the unredeemed

 ~

tis not your quest

to rise and seek the truth

but satiate thyself

within disrepute

for thine angels shall wander

and there shall be now  no more

your words only spoken

in shadowy echoes

amongst iron doors

the saddest of beings

stricken with brilliance

finding only disdain

in the madness

the silence?

~

we looked unto our own

we sought that which was nought

we gave our hearts to limbering lost

'twas our burial feed

'twas our cost to concede

grieve not, and let loose thy velveety sleeve

for once again this angel of death

will come...and earths scorn shall be relieved

~

why wish we to be remembered in our own

for what have we  rendered that was not already sown

a thousand ages

weather worn pages

lies and manipulation carried forth like gold tinder

this is what the leader of our nations not hinder...

...for it is theirs.

~

through our blood, sweat and tears

hold close thine own

to thy bosom

shed tears on the hairs of those given

~

for it is thy only respite

from doom

from death

from gasses of hell

to spite.

~

don't stop seeking

there's more than thou  seeth

for with thine eyes is a veil that decrees

be lonely

afraid

be fearful

and shamed

be hopeless

and give not in haste

for life is the moment

.......

and hence.....thy souls waste.

bu Lionslove © Tim Johnson