Behind the pain of that archaic politics
In death and remorse, savage bitterness
Animal cruelty and lies of chaos
Within this animal rage I've received
These windings of times I have been deceived
A sickness of letters never believed
A culture of horror
A culture of beauty
The love of my life
He is God He is Buddha
He is fragrantly known through all agenda
And neither the disciplines of loveless pure anaconda
Can ever dissever this angel from strife
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Author:
Jonas Robinson (
Offline) - Published: May 26th, 2022 21:37
- Comment from author about the poem: This is a personal confusion I've often had of the occult and ceremonial rituals.
- Category: Spiritual
- Views: 29
Offline)
Comments3
Oh, I should steer clear of occult and matters of spookiness, I say!
Thank you.
Beautiful.
Thank you.
Well written Jonas!
Thank you.
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