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The Book of Excerpts: Re-Reformation

What is this delusion before me?
This dreadful illusion that I do now see?
I fear such terror from the powers that be...

Those angels above, those demons below.
The Horsemen to come reap and to sew.
I see the once powerful flock, now come so low.

God how I pray this to be but a phase,
To leave this to past and within a haze.
Bring us out of this horrid maze!

Your people stand divided, stumbling forward
To a future cloudy and grim, blinded yet onward.
Power drunken fools,ignorant to your true word.

Give me this life's chance to make due change,
To adjust and assist in this time so strange...
This time in which we must to our ways

LegoLove is a beautiful soul steering thing;
when it happens
when it succeeds and the seed is sown.
But when wasted you can smell
The defeat as it ebbs away.
The dead quiet, complete void of uselessness.
The giving up,
the evaporation of passion,
the finality of something lost
and now leaden.
The ending of something that never was.

The Changing Tide

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

The Unholy RiderThe unholy rider came,
To deliver you to mourning and majesty.
Discarded fate and desire drove him,
To that cold desert where you lay.

The ancient weapon at the ready,
He stepped into your faithful fortress,
Cold bliss and perpetual wrath stand,
In those timeless eyes of his.

White moon flew after summers set,
Watching for that moment of grace and glory.
His cloak flowed long and heavy,
Woven of shrieking fire and slumbering shadows.
His mare screamed in coldest night,
Mane ablaze with undying fury.
You waited, patient and silent;
For that unholy rider.

He raised a dark sword,
Flashing with flawed perfection.
You never shook

Sacrificial LambThere, an alter drenched with stains
Rusty and ancient
A lonely finger caressed smooth marble
A Crumbling ode to a lost Deity
There had long been an offering
To that thirsty Goddess
Only one, but the blood remained present for long after
Old and worn after centuries of time
And there was a poor lamb, led to the sparkling marble
Already starving and at the verge of collapse
And there the lamb was tied, to that alter
Left in the embrace of the Goddess
Where she slowly restored it to health and happiness
The lamb did not know through all of its glee, what was to come
The blade that rested across its throat
Waiting for the moment...

My EndymionI was never a fond of love;
I never invited it into my bed,
nor gave it my tears.
Not that it would ask.

And yet tears I do now give,
in sacrifice.
To a man who never asked nor incited such feelings.
Feelings that crowd my mind,

And weigh my chest down.
With uncontrolled emotions that spire into fires of passion.
Pretty words seeming so small to describe,
the obsolete moment of truth that banishes dreams for reality.

Oh how the light so gently touches you,
and that smile.
That gives me a smile of my own.
This is a tragedy of situation my friend.

Sorrow for joy;
my dear Endymion.

Monument to a Ruined ManI see you now.

The magnificent velvet and silk flags of your name
Now fester and rot in tatters.
The ornate gold and jewels, now dull and blackened with age,
Hang limply from the brittle, yellowing scaffolds
Of your admiring subjects, their mouths gaping open in one last,
Mocking cackle,
All loyalty long since disappeared.

And here you stand
Alone in the silence of your own undoing-
No longer a ruler, or even a man, but a shell-
The hands whose wizened palms I once worshipped
Have crumbled slowly into nothing.
Those lips, whose stately curve I once adored,
Now worn and cracked from centuries of smiling.

But your smiles were n

I know not whyI know not why the caged bird sings,
all I can say is that it does–
imprisoned forever, poor thing.
Doomed to repeat its melodies,
with no one around to listen.
Cut off from the world, like disease–
Lonely, terrible existence.
I know not why it softly cries,
Only that it does. Persistence.
When all of its screams have not been
heard, why, dear lord, do you treat it
so? What is this I feel within?
Such a longing to set it free
grows stronger with each solemn note.
This passion burns inside of me!
I know not why the caged bird sings,
all I can say is that it does,
and how it longs to spread its wings.

Zoey (my baby sister)

So small,
So precious.
So beautiful,
So brave.
So full of life,
And only a few days old.
We hardly know each other,
But the love I feel is unconditional.
The bond between sisters is unbreakable.
I love you so much,
And I pray that you'll be alright,
For every dream I have,
I kiss you goodnight,
A sisters love is full of delight.
I love you Zoey Marie Williams.

BlindBlind

The colors themselves though they may try to disguise,
form a beautiful picture from the rainbow inside.
Although the colors confuse and the shades run and hide,
I'll show you each shade and I'll stay your guide.

It sounds like a melody the pen on paper,
I'll be quick to step in should your hands ever waver.
At times it's a whisper gently coaching each color,
but together were something each color a wonder.

Color, tastes like skittles,
it's not the shade outside,
but the flavor in the middle

The shades feel like petals between calloused fingers,
Soft and velvety as rough hands guide their shapes.
Tiny drops of paint are

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

Reflective Argument

Have you looked into the shattered mirror,
to find the subject of your exasperation?
Accursed hypocrites of the heathen reign,
"Make them suffer for the sins of their ancestors!"
What know you of history's bloody course?
Not a thing, not a damn thing.
Look in the mirror of this worlds memory,
let the record show that which is yours,
the folly, the choking arguments.
Evidence is all you have,
just and yet, the other term, of faith...
Yet again and again,
abased, abashed, by my shear hatred for you all,
Of what do you know in regards to faith?
Not a thing, not a damn thing.
You walk hand in hand with
the blind, deaf & dumb
who

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.

The Book of Excerpts: Creed of The Patrons

Blessed my guides,
Governed by our King.
His children know my purpose,
just as he upon his throne.
Sweet clarity do I seek,
But of course patience is key,
as by faith do I live, as this
nothing but mortal being.
To only them and our Father,
do I loyally obey.
Behold, for I am the left hand of God,
and I will fear no evil.

The Book of Prophecies: The Pagan

His desires shall be those of a Higher influence.
His methods, unprecedented.

He shall bring about the demise of humans,
and the body count shall be of a great multitude.

His deeds shall bring to him,
the attention of the greatest Nephilim, Death.

He shall be feared, and undoubted in his ability.
His reasons are of Faith and vengeance...

Though his faith lies not in God,
But in the servants of such...

Decieved was he in his original conquest.
Forever scarred is his soul.

The Pagan is he,
a mercenary to both Angel and Demon...

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Ardent Animus

Unworthy of living is the taker of innocent lives.
Cursed is the one,
who is malevolent without pure justification.
It would do you well to wait,
patiently praying in the begging method,
while what comes to you takes its time,
torturing your mind,
already filled to the brink with onus.
Pray with your eyes closed,
so that you can feel the suspense and fear
of your every victim.
Remain on your knees,
so that you are already in a position to beg,
upon the arrival of the Wrath of God.
I wish you no luck or blessings,
As mercy would ruin my entertainment
in watching a suffering murderer.
Cursed is the murderer, afflicted by his

The Sounds of Silence

I knew you not,
yet my heart shatters for you.
It breaks for the weeping
for the cries of those
who cherished your name.
May Azrael be sent to guide you,
as yours was a soul looked up to...
Just as you now look up to your Maker,
and watch over the ones,
whom are missing from your paradise.
My hearts breaks to the sounds of silence,
that are but the moments
to which we remember you.
I remember your face,
and the smiles it brought
to other faces that knew it.
And it shall continue to do so,
but those smiles shall be accompanied
by sorrow...
Though my eyes do not weep for you,
My heart yearns to pick up,
those who have fal

Mommy Dearest

Lay down your arms,
as they are raised against the blessing
that is your own flesh and blood!
Such insecurity to produce,
such senseless anger.
I give to you now, no false hope,
as my ultimatum is clear.
For now I give to you the gift
you seldom give this child...
An option.
Take on the act of silence,
and find within heeding my words, complete reconcile
Or continue on in violence,
and I shall express to you comeuppance most vile.
What point is there in the hateful acts,
towards this afflicted descendant of yours?
This human angel is already weighed down upon,
by Time's fateful cumbersomeness!
Your purpose is to stand as

The Ever Burning Chariot

The terms of defilement pour outward from your pathetic lips,
as the Word is manipulated to feed your pointless hatred.
Blasphemous contradictions have made their way,
unto the already tainted culture of your so called
political agenda...ergo...
You must find conformity within
a worthless crusade of minor and silly causes.
In the end, your message holds no value...
there is no moral or purpose...in your psychological indecency.
As only the pictures by time will bring you up...
and you shall be made example of....
To what hopeless cause is your discourse of unjustified ignorance?!
God forbid you actually take to heart the very wor

Our Own.

Unquestionable.
Unfathomable.
Unbreakable.
We are the ones whose hearts are bound.
We are the ones who control the fate.
Our love is our own.
So what obstacle thinks itself
anything close to a challenge?
Distance nor time, the inevitable
so called provocations!
Neither were those to affect us!
They were flies to be brushed away.
What say the living hindrances
before us, in our eternal love!
What is ours is never to be shared
Beyond the two of us...
For our souls, our hearts, and our minds.
Are forever our own.

Paradise Discovered

Breath I, in the breaths of fresh air
around me,
a green plain of grass,
with trees and flowers,
plants of all kinds...
Gentle stones, with moss for my
head to rest upon...
My eyes shut, and my sense of feeling
becomes more lively than ever before...
Through my hair and over my skin,
comes a soft spring wind,
A gust of peace,
to blow away the troubles
from my mind...
My flesh then feels the hands
of an angel, brushing over me
to kiss my naked lips
and a voice pushes air into my ears,
air that speaks the words
"I love you..."
My eyes open, and to my heart,
a joy rushes from my veins.
For it is her...
Fair & beautif

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Submitted: September 2, 2012
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The Immortal Regret.

by ~GrubbsWriting, Sep 2, 2012, 8:11:03 PM
Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Traditional Fixed Forms

I see upon a hill,
the setting sun, fleeing from the night...
The moon coming above that horizon for the kill,
to rise and banish to darkness all light.

Though time brushes over creation,
I live on, a slave to immortality.
Though I was the choser of my own damnation,
Twas humanity that was the cause of my brutality.

Now the world around me decays,
unlike my flesh and mind...
Time has left my future in a haze,
and the changing world has been unkind.

I see upon a hill, but another slope downward,
where the pointless journey continues on...
unto to no end is my existence forever moving forward
Nostalgia is dead, as my past is forever gone.

The Immortal Regret.by ~GrubbsWriting

Literature / Poetry / Narrative / Traditional Fixed Forms

An immortal man basically stating: Immortality is overdosing on the gift of life.

image by Ivan Aivazovsky

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wow 1 1

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~KikuMizu Sep 5, 2012

Not sure about immortality but I would at least want to live for a few hundred years.

~SayaFantasy97 Sep 3, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

loved this poem, great job!

~GrubbsWriting Sep 3, 2012 Professional Writer

Thanks!

~SayaFantasy97 Sep 5, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

Your welcome

*Brother-Tom Sep 3, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

This poem is quite intriguing! I kind of see the Lord Himself looking on humanity after the seven years of tribulation is finished before He returns. Looking at the ship coming in, the picture looks like something from about late 19th century. Overall, well done!