Thursday, February 18, 2010

Forest Of Error

wrote this a while ago, at least two years ago. for a project which was alas absconded. so out of a perverse sense of fun i 'ave maria druggt it outta those jaws of dem serial mice, and 'ave plug plonkt it down here for all to enjoy

Halfway through this the journey of our century
I found I was estranged my way
Hard against a misty wood glum
I stumbled slumbering

Not with God
Or angels or daemons or
Satan or magick or Buddha
Or Yoga or Zimmermann

The wind sang to me...
With Avarice has
No one a painted

Not for their eye nor heart
Nor mind nor soul


Corpses alone
Are brought to banquet
With Avarice

And all along the wide
Fine road is now over
Grown darling buds

Chewers of Flesh
Gnawers of Bone
Dispensers of Life & Death

They mock and flog

And i am all alone in
This spreading oscura
Alone this wide cold
Universe of nothing
But nothing - endless
Cycles of Nothing

Houses of whores
Of pink brick
Golf course roos false
Collanades & meat four
Times a day (or more!)

Out with piggy wives
Clutching forks and knifes
To eat their bacon

And 51% of people
Surveyed are not wiling
To pay any more than
A tenner a month

Never gets any better than this
This is as good as it gets


And they wonder why
The young have no

Wars and rumors of wars
Matthew 24:6
And the blood up lust
Of the non combatant

And i am alone
This spreading wood
Of mine olde
Glum gloom

And the wood dissolves
And i stand at the gate
Of a great city

At this great city
Stinking already of
Greed and Death.

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