Monday, August 30, 2010

Something else from the archives

These are a different style than what I've posted so far. A couple of my darker pieces. I've always been drawn to the post-apocalyptic type of story and these short poems were a couple of my takes on that style.

The Dark Apostle

Shotgun cradled in his hand
He travels all across the land

Bringing justice, bringing hate
The well-armed hand of fickle fate

A quiet highway, dead of night
Another villain taking flight
Just off the road he tries to hide
Abandoned building, ducks inside

But he can only hide so long
Before the stranger plays his song
A symphony of blood and gore
The hand of justice craving more

A broken body laying dead
A pool of blood around his head
A path he never should have crossed
A life of crime, a life now lost

He leaves his mark, a crucifix
Upon the body it's affixed
So passerby will see and know
Who made the bubbling claret flow

A signal and a warning sign
To those who wallow in their crimes
You're never safe, it's never through
The Dark Apostle's seeking you

Barren Street

Desolation all I see
Destruction laying at my feet
A feast of famine for my eyes
The far off sound of broken cries

It's everything and so much less
Smoke so acrid steals my breath
Broken glass lays all around
Howling wind the only sound

A city that once stood so proud
Has now been leveled to the ground
A wasteland all that now remains
The gentle sound of acid rain

Bodies burned beyond repair
I look at them with vacant stare
Nothing now but empty shells
They've moved onto another Hell

There's nothing left here to be saved
This place has nothing left to take
It's just a piece of naked land
Along the coast of crystal sands

One last look, I walk away
Time to move on anyway
The radiation burns my feet
As I take the turn off Barren Street

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