There is evil inside everyone...you can either learn from it, or it can take you. Pray that it doesn't take you.


Picture
courtesy of PhotoBucket

"Maggot's Resolution"




Do you hear that sound?
It is the sound of your life slipping through my hands

My cold dark damp hands
The hands that love you to death

The one’s that scream for the gnashing of your flesh
The eye bleeds the ink of your life on your flesh parchment

A sinewy ligament the quill for your torture
Write if you dare untold truths within your pain
Tell lies to the widows the insane

Make a pact with the level of your madness
So you may follow through with this gored affair

Maggots’ resolution to be more efficient the next arrivals
Eat before it spoils if you dare

Rot the sweet root taste of decay drips from your lips
Your flavor of the day
Cacophony

Food for the livid macabre living in deaths row garden
Blessed are the dead because they have rotted away

Waiting waiting on the sunflowers of disease
Embalmed is the fertilizer in longevities garden
Life lives but death is ever ardent

Bitterroot blood vein that protrudes from your temples
Make of the Beast so tragically simple

Sentinels of grave custodies darkened ways of the blood buoyant
Watch
Keeping the bones cold chilled for the pyre


©2009 H. A. Irwin, Jr.
 
 
*Disclaimer;  I originally wrote this the day we had that earthquake in Little Rock, Ark., which was just recently. It was done as far as I was concerned. But for some reason I didn't post it that day, and actually forgot about it between what I was doing and what was happening around me. But, apparently it wasn't done...as we all know for a fact now. I did a little editing today and this is what unfolded. The photo was the first one I saw when trying to find something fitting for this wordplay. It just fell into place. This write gives me the chills every time I read it now. I hope and pray that as many can be saved, will be. Thank you, one and all who read this and understand. Bless you, the ones that act.  And may the Saints be preserved. In Yashua's name, amen.
Picture
illustrated by BitFluent/courtesy DeviantArt
”Do You Hear My Voice”

Blind ambition
Twisted in a hyperbolic state
Triadic thoughts erase the memory of the day
8.9 in Honshu had something to say
“Did you hear my voice?”
Rumors of war amidst war onwards
But talk of peace permeates
The falling away began yesterday
“And still you hear not my voice.”
Hope and faith have been remanded
From long ago it was commanded
Do unto others as would them to do unto you
But nevertheless we will all confess
Our deeds of good or of consequence
And time is surely fading fast
The end looks closer as it surely is
Have you the time to lend an ear?
“Do you hear my voice now?”
Signs were given in the beginning
But the dead will not taste
Only the living
For the sake of your life you can be forgiven
“But still, you hear not my voice.”
Left was a testimony worn and written
The law of the prophets
In our hearts it was given
But ever it may
It is your decision
“Yet still…you hear not my voice.”
©2011 H.A.Irwin,Jr.
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“Sibyl’s Mountain”



The view from this mighty mountain is a glorious sight.
Hued emotions well the eyes in remembrance of darker days gone by.
The path to the top of these dreams was long and wrought with fight.
Wasn't long ago I was dwelling with pandemonium and the minions fire.
Imprisoned by the emotive chains of mine enemy.
My hands have been stained with innocent blood.
The blood of mine own conviction.
This sacrificial lamb, in Sanctimonium de Novus.
The mountain moved me to stir.
I spewed, alert from the grave.
No longer would I be this Sanctimonious Slave.
The mountain priestess would seek to plunder my bones.
But a Warrior never dies…he climbs to that pivotal place.
To face the demons right in their faces.
Without so much as the blink of an eye.
Still…still as the night.
The ravens feed my hunger under her moonlight.
Sibyl watches the Warrior’s ways with morose delight.
“How did such a man make it thus far?”
She muses, “This is my mountain.”
Born of deed, it is her right.
But the Warrior was wounded err did she see.
Only defending what was hers.
And of his life on bended knee.
Making the spell cast down to reap his will.
He lay with sword in hand and blue motive ever still.
“Why have you climbed thus shaggy knoll Warrior?
You seek to rob me of my precious gold?!
Have you not heard the stories long been told?!
That to climb to my throne would bring death!!!”
The warrior doth bow his head in silent retreat.
Thus speaking, “Oh Sibyl, your glory is of witness to me.
But Homer lied this is true…many times, I have seen.
I know all too well, the Gods are not finished with me.
My fate rests not in thine hands.”
Rage wouldst boil in the Prophetesses heart.
Saying, “I knew that I should have just smote you.
And right from the start.”
But a Warrior as he, she finds him…a greater reward.
He would protect her from all who would see.
And in battle would be of no small countenance.
“For ‘ere he would stay…on Sibyl’s Mountain.”



©2010 H.A.Irwin,Jr.
Picture
illustrated by Barry Windsor Smith