Hopefully my writing has improved since I last posted them
"The Celebration of the Slain Children; That Damned Women Celebrates her Sin"
Woe to the mother of the damned
Eternal suffocation of her womb is at hand.
Her ******* children weep of her betrayal.
Tortured by her sins; ash, fire, and hail.
Her flesh begins to rot.
As she prositutes her daughters.
Her blood begins to spill.
As she slices up her sons.
She sleeps with the wealthy.
Nipping at their heels.
Death she deserves for her adultrous ways.
Chorus
Sleep child, your wounds will fade away.
Sleep child and dream no more of that
Whore you called your mother.
Woe to the mother of the slain.
Shrouded graves lie across this plain.
Her dead children rot in the ground.
So she runs from the baying of the hound.
Her limbs begin to fall.
As she sells out her children.
Her eyes begin to be blinded.
As she smiles while her children die.
She deals with the leeches.
Bartering her goods.
Death she deserves for her adultrous ways.
Chorus
Tear apart her flesh, grind her bones.
Stone her to death, crack her skull.
Cut of her hands, cut her stomach.
Make her entrails stain the dirt.
The whore of the century; do not heed her cries.
For she she slew her children,
She mocked, laughed, and danced.
The witch of the desert.
The prostitute of filth.
The queen of the damned.
Mother to us all.
"'O' Marduk, Whence Did Thy Fall?"
'O' Marduk, usurper of the throne.
Whence did you fall from grace.
To play as a jester in lesser mans courts?
To become a drunkard in a adultresses blood?
Stricken dead with leoprasy.
'O' Marduk, slayer of the civilizations.
Whence did you lose your power.
To lesser gods and goddesses.
Despire your endless widsom,
You did not forsee your fall.
Chorus
Your women fled.
The concubines were slain by the sword.
Laid to waste was your walls.
Marduk, you ******* of malicious ideals.
"O" Marduk, you false god.
Whence did you believe?
That you're as great as you think you are?
That you become drunk on your power and riches?
That you kill for pleasure?
'O' Marduk, rapist of innonce.
Whence did you begin to,
Enjoy slaughtering your followers by a whim?
That you demand sacrifices to gods of deciet and malice?
Sacrifices of maids and babes.
Chorus
Your temples were torn down.
Marduk, father of bstards.
Your followers forsake you.
Kocking your ideals in the dirt.
Stabbing you with thier swords of revenge.
Kicking your face in and spilling your guts.
Across the valley of death.
'O' Marduk, leech of the true God.
You have fallen into the abyss.
Enthroned in darkness; enthroned in shame.
Chorus
'O' Marduk, spawn of your sin.
You feel when you were concieved.
That was when I was experimenting with violent and gory lyrics. Shortly after, I tried to tone it done and go for a poetical snse.
"About a Twilight that We Longed For"
She plucks the flowers from her hair.
And throws them in the wind.
Kissing them goodbye.
She walks into her grave.
Not looking back to the flowers.
So she walks into her grave.
Prepared by her lover.
She closes her eyes.
And grows cold inside.
Her heart is cold; her womb is empty.
She cries out in her fake birthpains.
Oh the agony. Oh the agony.
She dreams of a meadow.
Enveloped in twilight.
Hearing the nightingales sing.
Dancing upon the night flowers blooming.
Her heart longs to walk this plane.
Of a dream enveloped in a twilight.
She tears of her black viel of morning.
And castes a light from herself.
Epitome of holy light.
She touches the grass.
Her slender frame stooping down.
So she puts forth her love.
A tender, beautiful smile.
She closes her eyes.
And grows warm inside.
Two girls standing on a distant shore.
One is cold and sad.
The other warm and joyful.
Yet love elludes them; happiness flees.
Waves lap thier feet.
As they sob into it's foam.
Clutching thier cloaks.
And casting themselves.
Into the oceans fury.
Where does the ocean take thier lovely bodies.
So cold and sad; warm and joyful?
Both two people who love did not find them.
Whom they searched for.
But, alas, hope died in thier hearts.
May the find the stream of conscious.
In the twilight meadow
Where nightingales sing and night flowers bloom.
Where our hearts long.
I then started experimenting with Tolkien poetry and came with this.
"Of Oath and Bloodshed"
Skies of old.
Your stars of light.
The coming of the Noldor.
Into Beleriand; under a star-lite twilight.
Coming forth under glorious might.
Where the light of Aman still shines.
On their valiant faces.
The Noldor; under the ban of the Valar.
Disposed, homeless, treacherous.
Guilty of kinslyaing.
Guilty of treachery.
Guilty of rebellion.
Upon them is the wraith of the gods.
The Noldor; The High Elves
War upon Morgoth, the Dark Lord.
For raping of the Simarils, Jewels of Light.
Crimson swords of the oath.
None shall hinder there cause.
Wether be Vala, Demon, Elf, or Man.
And for this, the Doom of Mandos.
And the Oath of Fëanor.
Will constrain them.
And bind them.
The Noldor; Mighty is Strengh and Lore.
Shall make songs that many will wonder.
But for them, they will pay dearly.
For this is thier doom.
"Isle of Werewolves"
Hatred and violence.
Seap from it's walls.
Disease and pestilence.
In the twilight; the demon-wolf calls.
Where the victims cry and moan
Seated in majesty upon the dark throne.
Behold he is the Dark Lord.
Commanding his horde.
Sauron.
Master of Night
Sauron.
Commander of Might.
In Tol-in-Gaurhoth.
The Isle of Werewolves.
He reigns.
Enemies of Morgoth.
We will slaughter and defile.
Like a fire attracts a moth.
Our torment and hatred is nothing but vile.
For he commands us and we obey.
We will leave the villages rot in decay.
For we have been mastered.
Spawn of the *******!
Sauron.
Master of Night
Sauron.
Commander of Might.
In Tol-in-Gaurhoth.
The Isle of Werewolves.
He reigns.
Upon cruel Tol-in-Gaurhoth.
Black is it's stone.
Right hand of Morgoth.
Flesh, flith, and bone.
The Isle of Werewolves.
The Elvish bane.
Sauron.
Master of Night
Sauron.
Commander of Might.
In Tol-in-Gaurhoth.
The Isle of Werewolves.
He reigns.
