A few sad hours promoted the ill effects
Of life that ran in many corners of the world.
A few on misery, a few on peace, these moments
Surrounded the terraced houses with sunshine.
I decided to call or defend a little lawn of terror,
Grass grew there, to be submerged by the running
Floods that grew at paces of the strongest order.
These sad times escaped our understanding of the
The ice jamming our eyes so weeping as an eye.
My crime forgiven, the city rose into a flower
That reigned for the hours of oblivion and taste.
Two of my fellows became a pact with gods who saw
Us with flesh on their side, beautiful people grew
Into phantasms that lurked like the rights.
We saw too many gay ghosts of the older outing
As they parked prettily with mighty mangled arms
Like the zombies at war with souls of the undead.
They surrounded my house or minute mansion,
Whenever they felt the need to execute a sigh,
For this penalty was mine alone, nobody shared promises
To be the very rare occurrences in totality.
A thousand times the undead became wretched
As the pies of yellow cakes gleamed on their unborn teeth
Glistening after too many bites of my flesh
Fleetingly devoured at all times of the day and night.
They stopped me when I was dead and buried,
They desisted the existence of a thousand men,
Their raw meat was again discovered imbibing terror
From the wastes of unholy water, the liquid so
Abusing that undead sprits rose to the rain so reaching.
Topic(s) of this poem: death,free verse,war