Poetry
By Teresa
Cleveland ©2001
The Pentagram
A dark
look an attempt to straighten the folds of time
A pentagram drawn in chalk everyone inside
it's line
A splash of blood words chanted in the
forgotten language
Summoning the fearful those who control
anguish
Crescendo building no turning back to feed
the doubt
Chanting getting louder no turning back no
way out
Gripping the hands tighter of those that
remain close
Images of men, women & children hanging
from gallows
Then nothing just the eerie feeling of total
silence
A blinding light a flash of white brilliance
Slowly a plume rises from the boiling blood
it's crimson smoke
The oxygen is removed from the circle and
they begin to choke
The floor is no longer made of wood
Soaked in innocent blood
Minds and bodies in sequence become
contorted
Souls and purged lives can now be haunted
That was all that I can remember now that I
see nothing with these blind eyes
I struggle with the concept of separating
the reality from the lies
I made my deal presented my bargain to the
dark side
I escaped it's wrath but the things I saw I
can't hide
The basic necessity to function as a simple
Human Being
Is no longer possible now that I have seen
what I have seen
When the times comes for my body to be
reduced to ashes
Bury me where the sunlight's ray's never
splashes
The body and soul I dreamt were quite
inseparable
I know a different version of the truth it's
called hell
The life I have seen will hold me for
eternity
I summoned the darkness and it's coming for
me
Madness
eyes wide open
seeing all
the birth, the rise
and then the fall
smiles of patience
biding time
lick the lips,
await the crime
stalking silent
through the night
none aware the
victim's blight
shadows falling,
space dissolving
as he enters, minds
revolving
through the fog
your mind imagines
he is waiting for
your madness
drop your guard,
accept your fate
for he will not
deliberate
glimpse the light
that passes through
all your sins for
they were true
crystal gazes
veiling darkness
he still waits,
awaits the starkness
unaware the victim
wanders
deep in thought,
the distant thunders
blazing life
surrounds the mind
yet the victims
eyes fall blind
descending into
ever gloom
the victim feels
impending doom
yet beseeching, as
the veils
of insane thoughts
and bitten nails
madness hovers on
the fringes
come partake in
foolish binges
no one cares, and
none shall suffer
victim come, and
give your offer
madness claims the
tortured soul
slowly, smiling,
offered whole
malicious pains
inflicted thus
the body crumbles,
saving us
we laugh and jest,
the victim's death
the crazy smile of
his last breath
unaware our turn
shall come
when madness seeks
another home
Dank Epiphany
If pain was a color, the color'd be black.
Rivaled by
mortality, the sinew of warmth.
Black feels for
hope promised me, it's the trump of retribution.
It's the epiphany
I'm incomplete, the epiphany you complete me.
The oils are black,
they make me feel dank,
It sounds of
epignosis and the righteous of Christ.
The colors are it's
variations, purged upon end.
Black is the
sanctity of Zion, the sanity of me.
Black smells of a resting place, of a woman
fallen.
Not only fallen,
black struck the woman down.
A divine learning
for a soul that dies, the woman is me.
Black reeks of new
beginning, abandoned to alter.
The road metal, the
rising of bricks, the sinter tastes black's knowledge of
might.
Black is an entity,
oppressed and held back.
When Tribulation is
felt, black will be amidst.
The hearsebound
baby, unborn looks to this.
His broken black
heart makes me shudder with dark.
To this world of strife, black is numb.
The pagan in life
alter and succumb.
Black is riveted,
forsaken, lost in a daydream.
Home, sweet home
recalls it's breathing.
The wretched in
pity show me black a new way,
It's a speechless
cry, states nothing to save me.
The cleansing to
black is the song of the wise.
Black bit your
heal, caused your demise.