Cradlegrave Poem by Jamie Dewyer

Iz there nothing more romantic
Than a two-year-old waving a gun in your face
Burnt ashes on Christmas
The scars of remembrance
To all your tomorrows
And death to today



In the fields of clay summoning
Warp dreams and stains
This goddess of empathy
That follows my slaves



Iz there anything real left
Two stones of my people left
Two urns of burnt ashes
Two fists broke with rain



And the fear heart is destitute
Barren and sane
Utter the fate of the false hope of saints
In this web I have built for you
Spun deep with grain
And the morbid loss (sense of loss)
Filtered again



We will not come home
To this phaze
To this illusions face
All of the smallest dreams wither (erase)



I can see it now
The meeting of time and the kindred replaced
By the void and touch
Horror glaze
Opacity window haze ground into fame
And the flames that float echoing, rife with sewn solitude
Plagued with disgrace
Like I am to you
Terrified
Lost in this maze
But my dagger hand radiates
Shimmers and saves



All I have iz bones
Stones and thrones
Coffins and silk from the fingers of fathers grave
Weep in the garden of sweet catatonia
Lost for voice (simplified)
Abject and horrified
Milk lasting only days
Inside the mouth of caves
Venom hath claimed the drain
Re-birth again



As the circle shuts (envelope)
Bear burden of the throat
Trademark of lesser hopes
Cradles and graves




Cradles and slaves
Murder and graves
Master and blame
Foothills and shame


…the mountain is still but we hesitate still and the force is flown forward the greed of inertia swells and destroys the soft scream, left here hanging for days till the memory sways till the organ delays the centricity