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And I will only speak of;

brothal-stoic postcards, held to corrugated aspirins
by leech-paste grout.

And of mans clay baked nooses
that hang on epic capillaries to ferment.   

And the smell of afro-sheep sliced on cannibal-machetes.
And the taste of tallied black maggots and chemical burns.

I still hate the drums and goggles and peppered hams,
that spilled to hammer into the mustard gas  
that would piss from the sheep’s eyes
And kill this room.

I hate this room!
©2006-2009 ~blackdav666
:iconblackdav666:

Author's Comments

this is a bit more brutal and graphic than normal.

so please dont refer me to a shrink or something silly like that.

lol

Comments


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:iconmoongoblin:
Muahahah! Terribly delightful!
:iconmorbidman187:
I really like this one. :)

--
Crotch Zombies don't show me your crotch zombies.
Sometimes when I am sad I realize all my heros are gay or cowboys.
You are a bigger disappointment than the crucifiction of Christ.
Campaign to eliminate inferior campaigns. # of supporters 7
:iconblackdav666:
thanks man. glad u like it!!!!!!!

not the usual style for me, i was a bit worried about it

Phil :D
:iconblackdav666:
thanks very much!!

glad u liked it

Phil :D
:iconmoongoblin:
Well don't worry, I thought it was great.
:iconcartheinsane:
Ooo, excellent imagery

--
~I am a poet~
:iconzioseberrun:
your poems have an anecdotal quality to them, like you and the guys are sitting around the fire telling stories and when it gets to you, you say things like this. i love the way the first line introduces the rest of the poem. great work!
:iconblackdav666:
thanks for ur support!!

glad u liked it!!

Phil :D
:iconcartheinsane:
You're Welcome :)

--
~I am a poet~

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July 20, 2006
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