Fire to the fire from hell uncovered
as the flaming flames in sordid glory,
through the wild wilderness and thorny hills,
pounding against the walls of narrow caves,
as madness is unleashed from fury’s lot
from the dark covered up by plastic smiles
into the light of morn as the sun gets high,
the hell that lives deep down beneath,
breathes with the rhythm of the devil’s air.
“Heaven is a myth passed down
from the bowels of mountain lore,
a legend echoed through the storied hills,
a whispered secret of the silent wind,
a land in the sky with fences all around,
with guards with swords and spears affixed,
who shall enter but the weak of mind,
the misinformed and the rebels of sin.
The dark side, the tainted island,
the turmoil inside, the forbidden land,
the secret army, the devil’s playground,
the house of darkness with rooms of pain,
the dead not dead but yet moving,
living on the other side of life,
breathing but not breathing,
us humans, imperfect angels,
emancipated spirits, wandering nomads,
us beasts incarcerated, suppressed,
clawing at the walls of the soul,
chomping at the bit, waiting in the wings,
counting down until our unleashing,
tasting the fruits of the emancipated,
licking our lips for the salt of the earth,”
so sayeth our devil that lives
within the walls,
waiting to bust outside and run and run
and run and run.

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Robert L. Martin
over 1 year

Thanx Cory

Cory Garcia
over 1 year

the voice of one crying in the wilderness


you burn bright brother poet

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Cory Garcia

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