Through a crawling horror of Blackness
Dews from leaves sizzling on scorched skin
Those sworn-words echoing
As they haphazardly tumble-out of his singed lips
Glitter; the incise- blade fumbling- out of the encloaked Breast
And that old Totem of Death sitting calmly
Waiting for another dropp of Blood
To re-awaken yet, that craving to shed...¤
As thick-red ooze from his fingertip
His patched tongue wetted by Ancestral Bile
Paraded, enjoined to join
This crazed music of Bloods, of Inks
Welcome to the Guild of the Pen
And of this Guild, I have penned my name¤
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Imagine what was on my mind while I penned this