Sad Man Battle God

The read speaks for itself. There is nothing else to say.

Sad Man Battle God

Deathbringer 

A soul-eater drunk on holy spirits sings songs of broken heartbeats

And paints abstract Rorschach’s of homunculus

The shells that have been fired from body to body point blank

Empty mugshots in the dark

People without faces wearing Stygian rings

Shackled hearts of handcuffs

Rip the beauty apart

Psychosomatic art within the rings of purgatory’s infernal hurricane maternity

Solaris parishioner of demilitarized demise

The diabolic cry of the darkness Phoenix fleeting feathers fallen Aegises

 Armageddon resurrecting ectoplasmic eclipse dance in madness’ abyss

Ecliptic the static miasma of those transfixed on a translucent crucifix

Hallucinogenic renaissance of Gods gone battle-hardened in the mix

Starving stardust combusting succubus suffocating hatred’s matriarch

Primordial orchestras of the orderlings metamorphosis

Intercourses’ kiss of corpse vortex vorpal bliss

Endorphins orphanage of war’s score of sin

Contortionist to the residual schism of rhythms’ crucifixion

 Risen Prometheus illiterate purisms’ prism

 Incandescent oppression battling cataclysms

 Of cathedrals double-helixes in onomatopoeia

 Devil’s rejects paraplegic

 Heaven’s sinners in oblivion

 The obsidian sinew illusions synergy’s string

 Ventriloquists ring, deathbringer sing

Sing a song, and your kingdom come

Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven

My Growth is Decaying

Warm solicited photosynthesis hits the withered chrysalis

 Where maggots flee from daydreams

The sky screams serpentine a newborn baby

The wraith hazy disease swaying fluctuations waves of mayhem

The aether claymation Satan baking in the summer sun

In a world of no one

Holy messages of desolation, isolators of poltergeist saviours

 Stuck in perpetual pestilential celebration

 I leave my soundtracks behind me, trailblazing like a forest fire

Following the steps on the stairway, taking the flight to the next level

This is a rich ecosystem of existence; Samsara's rigour-mortis

Even if it has scars

There is little more beautiful than the earth’s face smiled upon

Growing older, with each age, a finer wine

Still waters apostolic Ragnarok stalks the planewalking prophets of Babylon

Sarcophagus battleborn in the sacrilegious Yggdrasil of avaricious

Blizzards of scimitars vanquishing tranquillity

In the splintered instance of winter solstice

 Alone phantasmagorical with the quiet of my own pandemonium

To fly with crows’ Babylonian in the metronome metaphorical

To undergo necrosis, damnations’ solace in death’s mitosis

Vessels of Bethlehem endeavour in sepulchre’s Nephilim

Decrepit echolalia contagious halos of Valkyries

Hanging from the velvet of the moon’s melancholy balcony

The melody of Evangelion parhelions melting elegant harmony of belladonna

I will not wait to sate a night longer

Anvil of hate parading hurricane fearmongers

Harden the heart hammered in the stratosphere

Reanimate the gladiator of salvation’s illumination

Allusive as the crucifixion painted in the tune of lunacy

Tainted by Satan, is the agathion of Mother Nature

Chimera’s Egg

I didn’t always follow guidelines leading me by hand through breaststrokes incorporeal in the labyrinth of Babylon

Bitter linguistics of a barren Serengeti

Armageddons heavenly desert-lands billowing

Under the wings of oblivion strewn lucid

In my ruined communion bioluminescence pandemic memories

Incandescent mementos torn from the immortal soul

Lost in the darkness the gulf  that lulls in hollow throats

Glass and gleam that screamed immaterially broken

Stoked the fires of high-rises who’ve spoken

The quicksilver glance of tiptoeing token harlequin halogens

Flickering flower trickling down the hourglass’s phantasmal pheromones

Pharaoh sown into the seeds of paraplegic freedom fighters

Ivory kaleidoscope shadows of Avalon devil spawns cartilage of martyrdom

We live in a shattered alabaster cataclysm

A cathedral of sunflowers’ sin

Poking through the maelstroms

Reborn in the osteoporosis osmosis of dystopian psychosis

Woeful primordials imprisoned in the schism

Of extraterrestrial epicentre decibels of decimation’s evanescence

The bulimic Elysium of a celestial Beelzebub

Vice (Grip the Heart You’ve Shattered)

 

Because people are inevitable, as destruction will cause them

Devils are indelible, corruption a thawed heart, the claws rip raw his son like a covenant

Draw blood-wed in web-spun sepulchre

Blooming bludgeoned in the slumbering sun

Somersaulting diabolical the flocking cockatrice of Ragnarok

Lycanthropic offspring borderline divine

Serpentine nonclandestine heaven discombobulated

Body harbinger of sarcophagus frothing in the coffin

Of a coming apocalypse like the midnight a scythe

Maleficent iridescence of transvestite misanthropy

Cantering apostolic Babylonian chthonian sigil stones

Of Holocaust’s prophets buried at the bottomless ocean-bed

Dreading the renaissance of reincarnated Babylon

Swallowing comets of armadas,

Arrogant chimera’s sodomized by God’s Samsara

Polyphonic amygdala metabolic insignias

Involuntary mosaics of cremations’ interrogating Salem’s recreation

Exodia, The Clown of Babylon (Lost His Way)

Romance in the necromancy of carotene mannequins

Interrogating polyphony’s epiphany

An antithesis will-o-wisp Prometheus in a chrysalis

Preaching to the infinite a beseecher of grim reapers

Ventriloquist insidious labyrinthine

Creeping through the equilibrium

Scimitars drawn from stardust

Yawning dawn-breaker Necronomicon

Forsaken dreams of guillotines

Nightshade effigies of cardiovascular astronomers

Cascading decapitation evaporating in cold stasis’ reverberation

Night-miracle-lights sulphuric poltergeist

Blight of writing scythe of suicidal kaleidoscopes

Revitalizing leviathans of the hive-mind asylum

Violating asymmetrical spectral interceptions

Of violet leverage epileptic revenants of dancing dandelion chimera

Reamplified diablo of Avalonia cornucopia

Interwoven matrimonial odes to the comatose soul

Revamp the trampled clover

And walk again the path all over

Stand trial immobile

Intertwined in the skyline island

Of vertical purgatory’s metamorphosis

Incorporeal as the vorpal son

From which the world of God is spun and swims

Drowning in the body of blood, the lake of relinquished ventriloquism

The puppets of homunculus encompassing the directed wrath

Of the taken path

 

So Sorry For The Mortal Man

 

Blood drawn pact of actions unspoken agoraphobia

Incorporeal metamorphosis brought forth through vorpal horror-scape

That the words raped with their sweaty tongues

Asunder

Nothingness runs

Amok, let the black sun summon slumber

The ashes of a ravenous cataclysm avolition’s oblivion

Symbolic abolition Catholicisms schism

Of Ragnarok gawking at the Glock cocked at an Apocrypha

That ran away like switchblade nightshade in jade daylight

Sip knives of reprieves nihilism slipknot provision

Eliminating in hatred’s slipknot apostolic bliss

I spit

You don’t know the half of what I drown with

Gospels blotting out the bloodclots ear-splitting lucidious

Gothic brothels foster hollering memories from my esophagus

Let me fester in the pleasure (of Armageddon)

The shadows of Devil’s who strangled dancers

That’s just the hollow palette of my hallelujah

Monochrome morticians livid with the visionaries carrion

Vicarious

We who ride as one

Bride to earthly Suns

Author's Note

I promise I read every single review, and I generally will reply to them. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be happy to hear anything you feel needs sharing. Whenever you write on my shortcomings or breakthroughs, or the themes of my poems, or share ideas and friendly criticism, it decides my next poem to an extent. I will listen, learn and be thankful. And 99% of the time, you'll get a reply unless you're trolling me.

Reviews

[Pete]

a venting rant. as usual, a fountain of imagery and intricately knitted wordplay. cool title and pics to accompany. it's like a literary machine gun. you really belt it out in this one. you don't hold back and let it flow.

Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven

From which the world of God is spun and swims

your favorite cereal must be alphabits - you love wordplay ... :)

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

I only eat a diet of alphabet soup, Chef Boyardee to be exact.

I'm glad you enjoyed the poem, I'll try my best to improve and write something amazing again and again!

[Pete]

i knew it ... :)

[Zuke]

As always the imagery is one of my favorite things about your poems. The flow of each poem is beautiful. Great work again my friend!

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Thank you so much Zuke, I'll try my best to keep improving. :)

[barleygirl]

This poem brings to mind a FB friend who rails about how the politically powerful religious right supports what's going on in this country, as he sees it, a travesty of their purported God-based principles. Not to make a political statement out of your poem, but when I see writing like this, I think it's a better way to wage the "God Battle" becuz everyone can read into this, the way they see it. This could be a manifesto to show whatever battle you're waging in your heart & the more this world goes bat-s**t crazy, the more I see your words as a realistic depiction of how much destruction can be crushed beneath the boots of good intentions. Here's hoping you & your loved ones are all doing well & healthy (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

I like to think of the poem as two main things. A way to vent, but also trust and respect in God, slowly withering and chipping away, until all that's left is the empty sorrow, sin, and hate that accompanies loss, and suffering that is without reason. There were several points where I could have ended in this poem, or used less words for greater affect, but the poem wasn't meant to hold back. It was to vent. It was to scream, not to murmur. I hope you get what I mean. It's not just about me, but the evil and suffering that's below the surface for everyone. On the surface of the abyss we see the scratches, but the deepest scars are hidden inside an isolation that we only see the shadow of, not the figure that casts it. Most pain is only an outside view. The real torture is hidden.

[barleygirl]

Thank you for sharing that . . . it really makes me think . . . I used to have a pollyanna view of people, but in recent years I've become deeply jaded . . . I agree most are torn by evil & suffering, & that there's so much more of it swirling around inside most people than they have ever taken a look at. I believe senseless gyrations like consumerism are just masks for the things you're describing.

[wordman]

fantastic write my friend,,great imagery to boot

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Thanks wordman, I'm glad you appreciate the poem my friend. :)

[wordman]

you`re welcome

[B. Lee Leger (Thug-Angel)]

Very descriptive and a good paradigm message. Bravo!