This is the song so few rehearse Locked away by a Dead Man’s curse His name, “Blasphemy”; he is like a machine Governing eyes stained in green. This song - the bells so oft repeat - Drowns in the drones’ marching feet. Shoving it down to the ocean floor Shattering the key to the cage’s door Call the locksmith to forge a replica Here, oh hearers, is the Divine Basilica Paths buried ‘neath dead leaves of time Take the broom; unveil the song sublime The mighty beast shakes his iron fist Stands amidst the crowd and a dark dense mist Division bleeds from the depth of his lungs He is praised as some deliverer by obeisant tongues Tongues wave like flags so proud and sure Souls shaken in fear by beguiling hearts impure They speak of things they misunderstand "Scholars are we”, they apprehend. Pages of ink fill up the sky Ears are swayed by the lullaby Minds diverted fall on distractions Unfolding an infinite array of factions. The song never ceases but rarely...
Poetry & Other Compositional Oddities