Τετάρτη, 30 Δεκεμβρίου 2009

Son Of Perdition.



Answered by many, in curious sleep
Were the desolate omegas that seemed
Too replete for the vastness of our
Timeless and untimely decay
So that four horsemen alone
Could never really raze down more
Than just a heaven at a time
And in those dreams of loss and light
Echoed the many tongues of the Beneath
That which is seldom referred to as
The Eschaton of Depths
For words have grown to be
Fettered and worn out and obsolete
And it is rumoured that their faces
Have grown to be stony
Hard
Unmoving
Unconditionally dead
Not even fear distorts them
Not even pain
Nor death
And you have to admit
They took the wrong shortcut
But they did it
They actually did it
In form and in likeness.
It was thus deemed
What could the word be
Right, I presume, right is the word
Although I stray from my Path
Invariably
It was right, the time that is
For the normalization to commence
And they did remember you, you know
Yes, yes they did, they cried for you
They all believed
They all made sense of every single promise
You should have seen them
An ocean of dirty, fragile little dreams
A carpet of souls for the worm to fester
Chanting one single sound, your name
And they called for you, everyone remembered
Everyone remembered you
Silly little creatures, they
Thinking it would be mutual.
I went as far as to tell them so, you know
I told them, he does not know you
He does not remember
His gaze is not upon you
His hand is not before your hearts
You cannot hope, there is no hope
All hope abandon ye who entered Here
But they did not listen
They did however hear me
Which made it all much more pitiful to watch
And they called me names
Very bad names, inhumane almost
And they wished for you to smite me
And burn me
And do all those things they used to do to one another
No original thought whatsoever
And in the end, I asked them
"Where is your forgiveness so that you may be
FORGIVEN?"
I emphasized that
And they froze in horror
And I could hear their billion little jellies
In their heads, screaming
"He's right"
"He's right"
The children, the small ones that is
They were weeping and sobbing
And so was everybody else
Crying to me and screaming
"I'm sorry, we're sorry"
And the ocean of puppets waved their song
And chanted to this sulfur smile
"FORGIVE US"
It was an end to remember, believe me
Believe me
And it's a pity you do not recall
That such a place once existed
And so many simple little things
Tried to understand you
And I have to admit
They almost did it
They took the wrong shortcut
But they almost did it
If not as much in form
Arguably, definitely
In likeness.

4 σχόλια:

  1. Ti mporei na pathei kaneis ama trwei baria gia brady k den mporei na koimithei...

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  2. Δεν ξέρω αν όντως έχεις μια εικόνα στο μυαλό σου που προσπαθείς να την περιγράψεις με λέξεις. Εγώ πάντως διαβάζοντας την είδα την εικόνα. Ήταν φρικιαστική και αποτροπιαστική, αλλά πέρα για πέρα ζωντανή, παλλόμενη κάπως, δεν ξέρω. Δεν μου άρεσε η εικόνα, αλλά δε μπόρεσα να μη θαυμάσω τον τρόπο που την περιγράφεις. Διχάζομαι λίγο.
    Από τα κατάλευκα παγωμένα τοπία της βόρειας Ευρώπης, εύγε αγαπητέ.

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  3. Ποια Β. Ευρώπη, στο νησί δεν είσαι;
    (Θενξ κτλ)

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  4. Στο νησί, βεβαίως.
    Αλλά αν οι -8 βαθμοί, το χιόνι ως το γόνατο και τα σκοτάδια από τις 4 το απόγευμα δεν θεωρούνται Β.Ευρώπη, να μου το πείτε να μεταναστεύσω στον Αρκτικό κύκλο. Όχι τίποτ' άλλο, να μη σας δημιουργώ και αμφιβολίες.
    Χοχοχο.
    (γιου αρ μόστλυ γουέλκαμ κτλ)

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