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ABBA KadabraFreshly furnished, tailored tonic men. Knives and neckties, blood-coated business cards. A crafted city with cleverly sutured scars and terrified tenants resisting their rent.ABBA Kadabra
Their boundering, boisterous, frivolous fame tried twice the innocent to swiftly stampede. Graciously glorify needless need with white-collared wildabeasts truly untamed.
Forgo former feelings felt forged from fate. Stop sinless seraphs in an awe-stricken state. Reshape, rewind, reform, react, revolt to rape countless cadavers washed upon the cape.
Gutwrenched groans gargle roun
by ~h-zence
Hell's SymphonyHell's Symphony a poem.Hell's Symphony
Preamble
In a place of prowess, pleasure and pride,
where one shall succeed when one shall try, lies not a life of unremitting glee but a tale of untold misery.
It lies beneath the ash-gray smog, Over a cup of tea and a blend of nog;
it lies betwixt the stoops and crows, in the city’s secret: none meant to know.
A kindly old man, who’d forgotten his name,
sipped his brew, though bland and gray,
for ‘twas redolent of a life come to pass when he was more than sleepless, dull and crass.
by ~h-zence
Just One.This is the part where you pretend you don't care. Where you stop calling and make things unfair. Cut yourself off, and vanish into thin air. Then leave me stranded in the middle of nowhere.Just One.
In deep-rooted struggle you give up on me. I've poured out my heart to a child of three. With your blinders on you refuse to see how you've turned around and run from me.
If you want me gone, then you've got your wish. I'll never forget your heart-warming kiss. But life's too short, and too easy to miss. I've seen too much, thus concluded this.
From west to east a
by ~h-zence
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Home base is eastern PA, but I'm a deliberate drifter.
- Interests: Creativity, ambition, optimism and helping others for the hell of it.
- Favourite genre of music: One that inspires narrative.
- Favourite artist: any writer who can say the most with the fewest words
- Favourite poet or writer: varies.
- Tools of the Trade: I carry the same pen until it runs out of ink. Then I pick up another.
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Yup.
Long slow goodbye, Tangled up in plaid, god is in the radio... burn the witch! ah good shit.
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Yup.
With heart,
Your uterus mate
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Expect nothing, and you'll never be disappointed.
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Expect nothing, and you'll never be disappointed.
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This is not a signature.
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