DEATH; D PRIDE OF THE BRAVE__BY KABEX__ Warning: acutely gothic. Frail hearts should ignore. Adorned with Stains of lasvid mud_ the thrust of lance in skemish thud_ heark! Our fate in mayhem hath!_ we came,we fought,we died;oer wry darts_ for glory and grace;we killed our kins_ and smear our flags with torrid wins_ The vales are smeared with blood of woe_ of sacred throes and sipid flow_ with lush and ferns garnished by frost_ lo! Woe begone plague the crust_ and,dark as snow the stubs of wealth_ their stems;lushy kerbs in lipid dearth_ They scurried on like slabs of shame_ to woe,to death; and fate gets blame_ warriors with tardy soles and souls_ older than age,they play wry scowls_ and fret our gems in lipid vice_ if death be life,we shall pay d price_ Void and lurid in tattered ruins_ the gates of woe oen to vain earthlings_ heark the lark;it sings of death_ deaf ears were turned unto the mirth_ the once frail hearts;now torn and faint_ with peg of joy in caspid daint_ Mead of woe betide their plight_ the kerbs of putrid eastern light_ anon! The come in hallowed dales_ and spread their hearts on bloody vales_ ahoy! The tides of carnage flows_ like mascude bode of southern knolls_ And,the tarlons that raves the surban curbs_ as the earth wept for charming gubs_ a soul that longs for d mead of fate_ in ragged loins with savage bait_ the lute with notes of tears i play_ on cascade,where men of war doth flay_ Submerged and bleak;their battered breasts_ with mundane of hale and sinful crests_ and,legions of vice oer sipid yore_ they walked with woe upon d moor_ Our doom is nigh on vales of death_ coloured galore of scawns that melts_ the swipes of shame upon their tomb_ the black old death with oer-crooked thumb_ the trekd with joy and sang with woe_ thru loopy carnage their sight doth go_ My soul back then was lanced by rage_ slayed by fate and raped by woeful drage_ the sun;my great friend in distress_ its blessings: fury of icy glare in wress_ the moon; my comforter with a lighted glow_ i wept and wept; till dawn doth low_ Make him a prey and feed him dust!_ the hoarse voice from lushy crust_ luridly clear with cocoon cust_ my tears enclocked by murky dust_ forlorn,i knew joy is woe_ betide thine curse oer a friendly foe_ Trust him! A saviour he shall become!_ avelt oer moor that graces my tomb!_ my heart;an emblem of broken words_ lanced by joy but killed in d spirit world!_ i trekd on;downcasted and vain_ should it count;my joyful pain?_ The vassals and serfs do crave d scroll_ the scroll;which d strife of men shall toll_ the trees that smiled at dis woeful turn_ now fotress of sorrow in bloody burn_ Tears in d jar of ink and caspid lawn_ i died to live midst throes that burn_ the sands of time weep not my doom_ eternal joy i crave fter dis gloom_ i lay to rest on my solemn grave_ tell death;its d pride of d brave_ THE END!
Posted on: Thu, 30 Jan 2014 07:50:23 +0000
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