Morituri te Salutant!

As my self-concept begins to nebulise,

each atom of consciousness

flung to the hidden unknown,

the maniacal revelry of my masters,

from whence all semblance of serenity

simpers and smirks,

devolves into devilish debauchery.

 

Nefarious fires billow satanic smoke

signalling a negatory conclusion

to the attempts to palliate my soul.

All the world’s a stage, yes,

but some are only footmen.

As I kneel before my Lord’s altar, I cry:

Ave, Imperator, morituri te salutant!

Reviews

[MoriartyMesa]

Nice bust to the chops followed with a thumped to the back of the skull, than nicely putting out a burning cigarette in the forehead.

another words I liked it.

[Spookers]

Lovely. I like the word play you do. Good work

[Muse]

I feel fire and brimstone coming! Brutal and lovely is your penning. :)

[Meghan]

This was great! I loved the imagery! Good job.

[Ruth]

Never fail to impress me hon! :)
Absolutely blooming brilliant! I am astounded!
So cool love :)
xx

[Kat Collins]

Fascinatingly profound..."Those who are about to die, salute you..." I'm still pondering...

[Rene Velez]

dark and full of imagery, though I'm not a fan of the satanic but very well written none the less...

[Shep]

This is a mind blowing poem. How it reflexs . Nicely done.

[KATHY SUE SILLS]

Excellent vocabulary! The whole poem is so amazing!

[Victoria PoetryBunny]

Nice wording... and a nice write.