poetry = nonsense
nonsense = meaninglessness
meaninglessness = void
void = nothingness
nothingness = spirit

our collective minds bend towards thee old Nemesis and as surely as flowers burn in the blistering summer sun do our souls wilt in thy service command - our weary hearts will pay the price, we who once stood proud and believed ourselves strong in spirit and numbers command - we'll follow willingly whilst knowing the evil of the path the perdition of thy promises desolation of thy wings command - whilst there's strength enough in our bones to stand and serve thy will. We'll praise our fidelity to thee Satanas as our flesh turns to ash and scatters we who stood in the light preferred darkness now salute thee [31-X-2013]
Copyright © 2011 Erick Calder
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