Chaos
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(Created page with "Title: Chaos Author: Stephanos ------------------------------------ Waves Crash Against the Shore Waves crash against the shore, Spray flies up, no pattern ...") |
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It has been said so | It has been said so | ||
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To hell they go. | To hell they go. | ||
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We are anarchists, | We are anarchists, | ||
Our souls black pits. | Our souls black pits. | ||
Revision as of 06:57, 29 April 2020
Title: Chaos
Author: Stephanos
Waves Crash Against the Shore
Waves crash against
the shore,
Spray flies up, no
pattern and no form.
Can we impose
order on the spray?
Can we force it into
columns, into rows?
Nature is,
For Nature knows.
And like the spray,
how can we see
Our right it be to bind
the soul?
So like the spray,
Forged by all that it
has known.
Indeed how can we
presume, or dare,
To place in iron
shackles this golden
thing?
To tear with swords
We call the "Law"
at it's gossamer
wings?
Nature knew that this
was not
How it was meant to
be.
But we are blind, have
gone astray,
And must return to
watch the sea.
Tearing At Divinity
It has been said so
many times,
From nobles down to
peasant grimes,
That to love
Is to be Divine.
And those who speak,
Continue on,
To say that since Love
is divine, you know,
Forgiveness is indeed
more so.
But I'm afraid I must
contend
This point that leads
to grisly ends.
For to love is to be
weak,
for if you love the
slow or meek,
they can be taken
from your arms
By those who seek to
do you harm.
And Forgiveness, you
say, is divine?
Surely you have had
too much wine.
Forgiveness means
that you are lax,
Rewarded with steel
in your back,
or perhaps theft
within the night, or
poisoned drink, in
broad daylight.
Love steals your
armour for the foe
Those who forgive,
To hell they go.
CHAOS THEORY [by Annihlus] We are anarchists, Our souls black pits. Like dark angels fallen from the light, Not truly evul, but shunning that which is bright. We are creatures of the shadows, Not in the light, not completely consumed by darkness.
And so we are, creatures of two worlds, Walking with life, flying like death birds. We tread against the popular flow, Our world is Chaos, and we take it blow by blow. In a place where order, structure, and society reside, You will find us there, not content to abide.
There are those of order, foul and fell, Who would seek to deny our right to rebel. They sit in their towers, rich and fat, their workers backs sore from lashes, While we cry our elation in bloody clashes.
We are anarchists, We are your sons and daughters, Neither foul nor fair, Truth be told, we just wish the world would care. In our lies we hide the subtlest of truths, We died young, feeling invincible in our youth.