[x]

The era is now passed through which I lived and favored,
and my patience then packs its bags for hiatus,
with which to remind me that perhaps
brighter days lie in sunny hammocks ahead.

Here and alas lays the road to that sunny setting,
upon which I walk and tread the changing tide.
The next item on the list of Fates agenda and her passionate affair with time...
the seconds will carry on like the beats of my undying heart.

The fire that burns in my eyes, through which I see is only assuaged
by the tears they produce...
the tears I produce in my longing for some peace of some sort.
Yet those tears shall only accompany the sweat of my

Free Spirit Fail Safe

Unhinged, the floodgates collapse
The waters weighed so heavily on them that in the dark of night
do they unwillingly liberate the transparent stillborn
unto the dry soil once adjacent to the gates.

Two clocks tick, their gears turning at the uneven tempo
Unwound, rusting to a screeching halt on the command of the flood.
Time stops at the hinder, And neutrality dies on impact.

What a sight as I close my eyes,

Late at night when energy dies.

Taken to flight my psyche then flies.

Do as one might, the cold sweat brings about my cries.

Fighting my fight, in where my imagination lies

The withered flowers ashen and in bloom

Be my soul

Sons and Daughters of The Revolution

A Hierarchy lost in translation,
laid out before us, but so forgotten.
Lord forgive us our folly,
Such great division,
for reasons many.
To my human eyes,
the scorching history,
wayward amid all anarchy.
Fractions to masses,
to lead and wage war.
The eternal struggle,
to which we are oblivious,
but so highly involved.
Lord forgive me,
as I fear my efforts are in vain.

How to Fix The World

How strange
This abomination...
an execution, while play
The howling strings
Of the cellos
Of the veins
Of the time
Of humanity.

To the discord
Are the who and what,
the how and the why
Ever lost to that
of the cords
of the strings
of the howling
of History.

"Fix this", they cry,
the masses whose
words fester and boil,
carried words, spoken indirect
of the leaders
of the struggles
of the home
of the brave

The final breath
of humanities dying words
"in ashes, from ashes"
She speaks, so melancholy
of the future
of the present
of the past
of Civilization.

"World!" She pleads
with a cry, so finishing
"Heed an

A Shade in the Fog

Gazing onward with the wanting eyes,
in search of nostalgia and reminiscence
is the shell of me.
Repression of thus, my depression,
I recall little to nothing at all.
Find me within the fog of my thought,
Shade of my Lord,
for lost am I,
drowning in the murky waters
of my ever fleeting psyche.

Back Into Wonderland

of what I was once fond
I wish now to forget.
As unforgiving were the events
transpired amid regression.
~
Up build my walls once again,
for my invited guest,
is now an intruder
amongst my bleeding heart.
~
Back to into the rabbit hole.
Descending I go into the demented realm...
spiraling back downward into my Hell
where my home burns.

Fight or Flight In the Presence of Logic.

Find your common ground of shedding blood
In the far lands of Else Where,
For here is not the place where bodies should
Fall just short of their own sweat and tears.
It is fear that is the beast you so portray,
And an agenda so immorally laced with false teachings.
Here lies the home, once ancient and grown,
Now rubble in the growing pile
Of humanities excrement.
Its epitaph shall read nothing,
For no words can be written
by the lack of knowledge per this land....
Look your land in its dying eyes,
Listen to its final breaths...
The billowing sands that blow
Erosion into its elderly face.
make your way to the place in which

The Killer's Mare

The ever creaking wood scolds me with laughter,
My feet make their tiresome way up to that rope.
There swings my path to the hereafter,
As I, the voice of these words, abandon all hope.

I am the regretful fiend, the tortured soul.
Whose face is emotionless, whose heart is torn.
Mine was the life to swallow others whole,
Now mine is the being forlorn.

Grim was this account of my life...
I lived within the arms of sin,
Now is the retribution of my strife...
Yet no words describe that through which I've been.

I can hear them cheering,
those I've in my life wronged,
celebrating the Hell for me that I've been fearing.
My demise wh

Reaching Out To Sanity

I can hear the music,
playing in my head...
That brick wall melody,
that leaves me dry and bled.

Back out, unsound, way past
The naive embrace,
clutched like the withering vine,
so doubted in commonplace.

That sorrowful harmony,
with mysterious limbs
running like mad
through my mind, so dim with fog.

In my wake do I hear that music
of the morbid and downtrodden sound...
Sweet, the symphony of my imagination...
the chaos, although so profound.

Stained, my face with the misery
Of this occupation of thought,
not much, yet the burdens are stiff
within the acidic net, am I forever caught.

The White Morgue

Watching, my eyes saw the swaying limbs
thin and starved by winter winds...
Dancing, like moving cracks on the window,
Through which I did stare.

Imagine, the image so morbid above as I gazed.
unnerving to the anchoring blood,
drying up within the veins of my limbs,
much like the branches that sliced the air...

The roots dug deep into my back,
and the anchored blood began to freeze...
My vessels, destroyed by glaciers,
of icy blood, that once flowed.

The travesty, of the bullet plunged into my heart,
whose beat slows, and withers and fades.
Too and so soon, the loss of my life...
Now I play the game of patience...

Still Waters Beyond the Storm

It is above and beyond
the realm where soar the children
of my ever undying Lord.

My mind is forever enraptured
by the very thoughts...
the concepts that are so limitless.

God what glory is to be beheld!
Lead me by still waters my Lord,
Beyond the storms of this wretched world.

Pray I that my intrigue
is never felt as a thorn in Heaven's walls,
as my only wish bring true wisdom home.

Thou art my God,
ascended and surrounding,
forever the greatest of praise goes to you.

From my lips come prayer,
From my hands comes worship,
From my heart comes faith.

Channel my voice through, O'abounding angels!
Though my thoughts often pla

That Elated Kiss

Between us both, that kiss of God
From to and upon the souls within the very cores.
The fruit of this knowledge was not ill-gained,
As meant for mine eyes was the gotten teaching.
Ah yes, the inspired motivator amongst my tongue,
Pure, but deadly, as to protect what is owned
By the cavities that contain ours, the beating hearts.
This marathon to & through
which I gladly volunteer to run,
Has my limbs aflame, enthralled with elation,
Striking down to its knees, the very calamity that
once over took me. Bless you, from above,
as from my lips between us both, a kiss from your lover.

The Devout, The Divine, The Deceased

Three are they,
Of Heavenly origin.
Governed by the Highest Throne,
and led by the Horsemen.
Devout are the Grim Trinity.
As death has never ceased
So true to the cause are they...
By cursed and divine blades.
The Patrons of the Deceased and Dying...
and of those related to the involved.
Divine by right is the Angel...
Unholy by cause is the Demon...
Leader by title is the Nephilim.
By them are taken souls guided,
Through them are souls
released or enslaved.

Until Eternity's End.

You before me, angelic, this vision.
Why do dark tears fall
from those brown eyes, so beautiful?

Why does your face shy from my eyes,
and shroud itself with the hair,
through which I run my fingers?

For what reason, to what cause,
do your limbs tremble in my absence,
and discover tensity in my presence?

Good God, use your lips,
before mine reach them,
as your silence gives consent.

Speak the mind which fascinates my ears,
Spill out the heart that grips tight to my soul.
Bare the soul that mine is forever meant for.

I wish to love you more than you could comprehend,
and purge every trace of affliction...
Bare the soul that mi

4. From Omphalos and Into the War Zone

The arachnid turned, and receded to the peak of the structure,
The creatures stood as still as the trees,
And soon, they too did retreat back to whence they came in the woods.
~
A powerful gust came to my shoulders,
And at a drumming pace did it come from above…
My ears then beheld in amazement, the beating wings.
~
The numbers were the sort that would leave you speechless,
Endless were the children of Creation, loyal to a dying & holy breath,
Swooping down, as their passing pulled me back towards the edge.
~
Here began my free fall from Omphalos and into the War Zone.
Past the maze which I once did tread, descending the mountain

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More from ~GrubbsWriting

To all of your many forms.O' do say, and tell my ears,
what you of all beings, knows of fear.
Pray tell that you have so much
as taken of its legendary place.
And tell of the place you claim to take,
at the side of manipulation.
Attempt vociferate your lies
and spill out your deceit.
Endeavor and desecrate the kingdom
that has bred you.
I will stand but a few steps
from the gates of your home...
My prayers will fling them apart
Although Belial no longer wishes to fight.
You tread upon seas of broken glass
and shall too soon drown in shards.
Such sacrilege has cast you down from up.
As you questioned that which birthed you.
So I say, to all of your

A Fallen ProdigyAnd why have you not placed my name,

into the deep dark part of down low?

Have I brought shame to earned

credit upon my name?

Your execration of me is without reason...

Your feeling of hatred towards me

is matched only by your deliberate misunderstanding...

A nature of innocent naivete does not apply to you.

Yet here I am, the accused fallen prodigy.

I have found a shear irony,

in the pleasure I find, in here your filthy voice...

The voice of blatant hypocrisy and self righteous deception.

You think you are the only one who plays games?

In the least, the games I play will not please you.

For my games are complicated, for unlike

Collar of ThornsHave you ignored what signs

have been projected from what a past you hold?

May your accepted ignorance be your untimely lesson,

for it is blissfully prolonged.

So passionate am I to bare such an inquisition...

My eyes have seen the end before the beginning,

and such a tongue deception is blatantly ignored by my ears.

As I bid a final farewell, take heed to the tears on my face,

and question them, for the will do so for you.

Question their very nature as I have questioned yours.

Should I learn to hold my tongue?

Lest I taste more of the spoken excrement...

A touch so cold as yours is not a grinning matter.

Though I am without the

PsycheBut a glance into to this mind,
is but a glimpse of Hell itself...
It is the mind of a man,
once a fiend, reborn a man...

Yet once a beast, always a monster.
Masterful is his deciet, even to himself.
Left in the darkness,
the domain of his very psyche.

Wretched are his thoughts,
as they thrive full of malice.
He holds no pity in his putrid heart,
as his compassion was his initial victim...

Sanity has fled his mind,
in fear of its own demise.
Its place since been taken...
By none other than pessimissm and hate.

SubconciousYou've come so far...

                                  ....destroy it all and bask in indulgence.........

You're better than this...

                                     .....you are nothing short of evil...

Do not repeat your mistakes...

        &#

A Basic Response to Evil.The temptations are of course endless,

ceaseless tests passed around like gusts of wind through a storm.

Evil at it's best has overtaken us all,

surely such an common nuisance

has not dilapidated me.

Gibe my psyche all you wish, I am not invincible,

but I abide to my faith

to unclench the grasp that is upon me.

Basic words from my lips

protrude an offense as a means to defend.

A negative response, to a negative nature.

I will fail countless times,

according to the prophecy of the demanding

path that leads to and fro,

a paradise of wisdom and endless foundation.

And to the tempters I shall meet,

to the lost and intrepid,

who c

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Submitted: December 2, 2012
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It's Not Delivery, It's Damnation.

by ~GrubbsWriting, Dec 2, 2012, 9:56:35 PM
Literature / Poetry / Humor / Free Verse

So long ago began
the ever growing free for all,
The all you can eat,
dog eat dog world,
Where commonplace
are the simplistic struggles.
So out of hand,
that solutions become
ironically complex...
Hell's buffet,
straight out and down
from the kitchen above,
down the slip n' slide
through the caverns
of mishaps and mistakes,
I bet it tastes like regret,
and the buyer's remorse,
Reap what you sew say
the teeth of the demon,
With every bite sinks
in a shame filled saliva.
"Maybe we'll slow them down!"
Say the so called thinkers...
I can't help but think against them,
but what do I know?
I'm just a common crumb in the trough.
Above Heaven watches,
restricted by the local law
to keep the peace...
nothing is ever done,
but to keep the balance.

It's Not Delivery, It's Damnation.by ~GrubbsWriting

Literature / Poetry / Humor / Free Verse

I wanted to try a little something different, and since I haven't written lyrics in a long time, I thought why not for a more satirical piece speaking out against how certain sins are now widely accepted and common within today's world. Don't misunderstand my message though, because I am completely guilty of a lot of things that I'm not proud, but so are we all as human beings. It's just our nature.

As far as the writing style for this piece goes, I was in many ways mimicking two songs by my favorite band, Lamb of God. The songs are "Contractor" and "Cheated". Fast paced, and meant to mock the modern political issues of our society. This one the other hand is directed at modern religious issues.

The satirical aspect of it is making fun of people such as the Westburo Baptist Church. Notice how I intentionally leave out any mention of Christ, redemption, and The Sacrifice for our sins. Such is my way pointing a both laughing, and accusing finger at people like them. The rest is as explained in the first paragraph of this synopsis.

Picture Citation:
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~Muerphy Dec 9, 2012 Student Traditional Artist

I really like this, please join my group [link]

~FlipswitchMANDERING Dec 6, 2012

Westboro baptist church is nothing more then a cult.

I hate when people actually refer to them as "christian" Society uses groups like them to rationalize why they arnt christian, when they damn well know that those people are demons using perverting the word of god to spread their agenda of hate.

~GrubbsWriting Dec 6, 2012 Professional Writer

THANK YOU

~FlipswitchMANDERING Dec 6, 2012

further emphasis required

"Society uses groups like them to rationalize why they arnt christian, "

People who were once christian, but now want to just "party and have fun" and act pat them selves on the back when they are politically correct, use groups like westboro baptist church to rationalize their denial of god.

~KahlanAmnell123 Dec 6, 2012

Well said, very well said

~DarthSithari Dec 3, 2012

I knew I'd see that painting again! With that in mind, which one of the Olympians is Cronus eating?

*M-J-Gagne Dec 3, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

Very interesting mix of the poetic and the visual. It's interesting. When I first saw the piece I immediately recalled the legend of Odysseus when he and his men are kept prisoner by the cyclops, who also eventually ends up eating some of them.

Although this is not a reference to this (the giant has two eyes) I think there is some correlation in that while sailing away after escaping the cyclops, Odysseus couldn't resist bragging to the cyclops in the process revealing his true name. The cyclops then calls on his father the God Poseidon to punish Odysseus. The result was a much longer journey back home for Odysseus and his men. It was Odysseus' pride, of which he exhibited plenty , that led to his being forced to wander endlessly for years on end.

I know that's not the story of this piece but it is what comes to mind when I look at it.

~Alicia-V-R Dec 3, 2012 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

i hope i won't have a nightmare today..., but still i think it's great

~JasmynFranceINK Dec 3, 2012 Student Artist

Amazing poem, but the picture is really creepy

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It's Not Delivery, It's Damnation.

It's Not Delivery, It's Damnation.by ~GrubbsWriting

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