Treasure Island

Poetheart (back)

(05/23/1960 / Rio de Janeiro)

The Souls Collector!


~His name was sang to the four winds~

I was so carelessly sitting on my rooftop
seeing all-stars with the green lens

was a noise not a voice
but I was resting there
without hearing it very well
and reluctant to follow it

What is that?

from my special place i saw
some starving apparition
coming out of their stones

not sure...

and i saw even covering my eyes
grey souls coming in my direction

tattered and guided by His desire

~He was there~

covered by night
chewing those five souls

My eyes was a mirror of those pains

i shouted! ! ! No....

but they only could hear
the sound of the night

and still ~ in a perverse way~

~His name is sung to the four winds~

Submitted: Monday, January 06, 2014
Edited: Tuesday, January 07, 2014

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Terror Poem.

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