My, My, Beloved Icarus


Began it all with blood that drips from a bloodstone which gilded the might of blood mages, so reluctant to stare at a blood moon
Glancing at these nightmares, those bearing such haunting hemlock and nightshade, waking night terrors nightly
Thus night fiends to fair, who art henceforth, found screeching horror, humbled as heretics-lost,
Yet, moreover, sinners hereby mumbling a broken mortality…the axis teeters tenaciously, talent-ly among our diplomacy,
Zealously, as we thrive throughout open stages displaying carnival and carnage

Magi, a forgotten creed…what leviathan beneath speaks…what dragon above thusly whispers;
Spewing hellfire as it all may come to be buried within the genesis pertaining to a coronal revelation
Simply it would gallantly seem, as we speak far too vividly, about thee..As so, come with me,
As we walk herein this phantasm foreboding a requiem meant for a dying dream…fated towards a majestic destiny
There look, seraphim art sounding the…

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About Jonathan Caswell

Mr. Caswell has been composing poetry at least since High School. He has been on WORD PRESS for ten years and contributes to two other blogs beside this one. This blog has a Christian emphasis but all bloggers are welcome. Mr. Caswell chooses to---with permission--re[post material of interest

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