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mercredi, 05 janvier 2011


Give me an army

Of blades singing

In a torrential wind

And a glowing rain


Give me sound of daggers

Writing strikes on storm

On the mellotron wisteria

Of an apocalyptic stanza


Give me claymores of velvet

In a fistful of silk

Green scars on blue tears

The whip and his warm embrace


Give me the lead

I burn it to shuffle

Like a bunch of silver bullets

Smashing down Illusion Avenue





Well, this is nice. Very nice. It just so happens that as only one half of me is Acadian, the other half, my mother's half are Scottish so the claymore reference isn't lost on me. You do seem to have a poetic obsession with sharp objects such as swords, knives, daggers and of course MY wit. lololololol

Écrit par : Val | mercredi, 05 janvier 2011

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