Devil's spawn to the mother of heaven
Words spew forth like water from fountains
New York City wears my cross
I dare not cross the golden dream
It is time to die
Soldiers carrying iron fisted slaves
The children in the sand crawl like hungry worms
Tomorrow left us yesterday
Keep your eye out for the golden orb
I have seen the spiders play upon carcasees
Of dead dreams
You are all too blind to see that the end is near
To die to live is one in the same
I will always be
Where the blood lies so do I
A golden dream from the chalice of passion
Have hope in the midst of your fear
Rain down on the clouds that blot the sky
Living silence outward dream
A contest entry
- for disciples of the Lizard King, Jim Morrison Prompts by lunarlunacy.
580 points, ended October 24, 2008, 10 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What do you think?
Comments
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DEEP
with such a prophetic tone, very well done!
sort of like a disturbed prayer to the universe! way wicked cool!
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