To Take Up the Cross
Impeccable cross of my kin! It was I that had rammed you into the barren ground We shaped our flags from rags, now stuck atop the iron mark Rags, once bandages, produced from infected wounds 'Twas the march that had taken from us all and given unto us everything Persistent cannons of the war! Oh, how you litter our path, costly as you were Your weight has taken our strength We shall return as the delicate beggars we are In this very moment, the ones, the conquerors To take up thе cross when through it you can win a kingdom Oh delicate spiral, thе one down the windy slopes in Lucifer's chains Grand takers of cities! Steady, slithering snakes, the shaking hands covered in grime and fuel Those used to masturbate upon this very soil Oh, have they lain upon the pulsating clitoris of time Yes is it but the price we pay that is our very essence of the blessing? Oh, abandoned lands afar! We, the takers, have withdrawn From you, left with but a cross driven into your ground From you, knowing not more of us than we ourselves To take up the cross when through it you can win a kingdom Oh delicate spiral, the one down the windy slopes in Lucifer's chains
Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Jun 28, 2026
Where is the indifference in you, the one you own? Whereto did she traverse? I see her not And I had looked so deep Had she taken a bath in the midnight sea Been raped by counter-brethren, been swallowed whole Never to be seen again? Where is the string, the one you crafted swiftly around your neck? Whereto did it traverse? I see it not And I recall you had fastened it thoroughly Does it rest on a coat hanger, hastily loosened, for you to whistle another tune? I did take a look into your eyes, your heart, and I had looked so deep And I see it not, the spark flickering in an inverted fashion And not the devil's deathwish in you I see the pergaments before you, occupied within a single night And they comprise no part of you, no part of me I see but a clean coat on the hanger in a spacious hall Reeking not of cheap perfume Encrusted not with a single trace of vomit Was a nostalgic night in the end Not more than an odd moment in time?
Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Jun 28, 2026
Six came marching down the aisles Solid soles asound forbear Three were slinging stones, a few of which did strike And three had other sights in mind I sketch unchained as six have redescended To their momentary graves And did they not herald with fire and drums before? The wounds no dial may cure Afloat in a neurotic pool of gin and cheapest scents I took what the steady minds in dreams had treasured Until my lips were stuck to the moistened tilеs And fingers, but scraping from the cracks, the bittеr nectar I still hear the six, mumbled moans that fade And I knew they spoke of time A master casting blasts of bliss, oblivion, essence, magic, healing Healing the scars of lessons For no remainder to be seen!
Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Jun 28, 2026
You came swift as a golden stream running by As I did stand tall and but ankle-deep 'Twas the ripple calm that never made me see 'Twas the ripple calm that never made me see And as I do reason myself back Into a shallow piece of mind, I see that True art is that of the trembling heart And what would I give to return and plunge an eye Into my delicate rush fading by 'Twas at a crossing I had stumbled And fell in waters clear but bold And as I do reason myself back Into a shallow piece of mind, I see that True art is that of the trembling heart And as before I swear the cursed oath To heed and learn from times that were And I reap the flame with fingers and a tongue 'Tis these directionless words I write Before I return to mediocrity True art is that of the trembling art
Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Jun 28, 2026
On suo, pitkospuut Tienä on vain pitkospuut Ja ne vie luokse töllin harmaan Töllin huolen härmaan Pois on asukas, autioituu Pirtti ja seinär sammaloituu Pois veivät Peltoniemen Hintriikan Hän sai köyhyyden Osakseen sai köyhyyden Vierahaks joskus hallan varmaan Joskus hallan varmaan Nyt on huoli pois, lopun saivat Puute ja huolet, maiset vaivat Pois veivät Peltoniemen Hintriikan Boardwalks, bark, but boardwalks, beveled chains to bind the nights Birches bleak, break of the dark, break of a season, break of centuries Alas I reached the spectres of a cottage behind the mist A door sprung open, but sprung so time ago, before the missed Mossy void I take no leave this day of my north utmost Fingers delicate flung open mine, the portal, with a starving fist A withered mark scored in the grain behind the moss The one she bore, scar of my nails, art of a loss A lock corroded lay on boars that once took us far 'Twas that to the door, the moss I never locked
Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Jun 28, 2026
'Twas at the edge I spotted him At times I had walked with but the end of mind returning me An oaken pole in a nervous hand, another, nails gathering crumbs And lint and therefore time Pikes had flipped aplenty And all within the brief moment I stood observant Fins of moistened awe, fangs, to froth a lust for momentary boldness Had it not been for the old man's net of loose loops adjoining Had it not been for a pact with the devil, appointing There, as I contemplated, at guard in willow shades I aligned, as had once been written That there was to be none of them like the pride of Petravore Stealing herself, slipping nets and city gates There, as it was mine to depart, I watched him take A staggering step towards the open, then retreating First to take a few more swings with a ravaged net In the attempt to restore the pride to Petravore
Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Jun 28, 2026
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