Black metal poems
Once upon a cheerful noon a man spoke ist krieg!
His words, though real, were seen as imaginary,
the day did come, the dream did find meaning
whose words, thoughts and actions never understood became poetry.
Care to dream beyond the borders of an empty canvas?
Dare to think along the lines you made?
Like an actor abandoning willful reason to do what he created
in a script of mirthful treason where a war could have been abated
written many years ago
the deed was done in a minor role.
In the heat of poetry, he takes a walk out
on the road of desire. A stop
sign, cars speed pass. It is night.
No waiting now, until your time has come,
wait no longer. The act is done
in jealousy and void.
A crime by a psychopath,
about acidic leaves in joy,
about a grave where wind catches ash,
about a dream’s lore
each morning obscure.
In science and void
beauty is the hypocrisy enjoyed,
in a tryst of might and heroism his crime stands,
the psychopath observes the dawn, unflinching, like a clown
called destiny, waiting for the inevitable end to come,
as his life becomes a taboo to his generation.