I am not conditioned. I still feel pain;
Of a thousand knives in my flesh;
Hanging from the meat covered walls;
Skin stretched tight caught in hooks.

Freezing beneath northern skies;
Burning at the touch of flame;
Tasting fetid sickening smoke;
Hear the beast that calls my name.

Prisoner and captive of a failing war;
I am condemned to die;
There’s no escape from this scene of my demise;
Here nailed upon these walls.

Freezing beneath northern skies;
Hear the beast that calls my name

The cold embrace of decaying hands;
Grasp my body once again;
Putrid breath from cadaverous mouth;
Bathe my wounds in its filth.

Stripped of my footings;
The foundation of my soul is upended.

Deluded by pain and
By the concept of mankind’s demise;
I draw forth the beast;
That resides deep within my heart;
I unleash the soulless haunted scathing;
Fury from within me.

Freezing beneath northern skies;
Burning at the touch of flame;
Tasting fetid sweet the scent of death;
Hanging caught by hooks in my flesh;
Smell the rotting odor of war;
Hear the beast that calls my name.

My flesh bears the plague;
unleashed by man;
corruption prevails;
consume this body with decay;
its tendrils are lithe;
piercing within;
to the spectral heart of man;
my mind burns with fire;
unbound in my soul;
corruption prevails;
to fill my heart with hate;
is it disease;
or is it become;
inseparable from me?

Enslaved to the passion
ignited within;
tasting the power
of this depravity.

Am I
Am I the master
of my own destiny;
Am I
Am I the pawn
of this plague that I bear;
have I
have I be born;
as the
as the scion
of hate
of my hate
and this infirmity.

My flesh writhes with disease;
my mind rots with dementia;
my will embraces desolation;
the love of decay consumes me.

I am given power;
I am given strength;
Ancient forces dwell in me;
I have drank of knowledge;
I have embraced wisdom;
Deep secrets upon aeons.

With strang ecstasy;
I embrace the hope;
Of a certain rebirth;
To awake with the fathers of old.

That wich once was hidden;
Now seems clear to me;
I am reborn.

Take me down to the ancient graves;
Of those who passed this ember;
That has burned into me as a fire;
I will shroud their tombs whit honor;
I will name them among the blessed;
For their faith has been instilled in me;
I have taken all the offered;
I am now their incarnation
For thier God has come to dwell with me;
I have taken oaths as they did;
I am sealed as once they were;
I am an ascendent progeny.

City of man, built by thieves, arrayed in splendor;
stealing away the souls of men for your own pleasure;
casting down their spent lives, you eat their flesh;
consuming all, redeeming none, filled with death.

Church of wealth, built by blood, filled with pain;
raping your own little ones for cursed gain;
cannibal, entrap your prey, consume your fill;
helpless, they relied on you to protect their youth.

have you not secured the lowest regions of hell;
have you not secured the lowest regions of hell;
has this not ensured your endless torment.

The distraught you leave in your own wake of chaos;
they shall one day arise and rip your flesh;
then will their angels rejoice in their justice;
on that day will the grave take the apostate;
that day shall wounded souls deal their torment.

Do not go unto her all you who are weary;
for your soul shall find only decay, torment, disease and ill;
nor offer to her your soothing comforts;
for evil has purchase of her heart and she has become forsaken.

The fire that leaves no scars sears my flesh;
it fills me with fear and wonder.

An heir to the secret power;
an heir to the flame;
I am adept in the ancient;
well versed in the arcane.

The blood of the chosen flows within me;
It fills me with strength and passion.

As fire, through my veins;
the knowledge I’ve acquired;
it burns and consumes me;
and reveals what eyes can’t see.

As a furnace fueled with flame;
the power that I’ve acquired;
it permeates and animates me;
and raises me to transcendency.

Product Features
* WE SHIP WITHIN 2 DAYS of our receipt of your order
* Our poems are double-matted in high quality mats
* They are enhanced with delicate, watercolor graphics
* An 8×10 frame is available. See item # B001QUTKLI
* If print & frame are ordered, print will come installed in frame.

Product Description
“If Tears Could Build A Stairway” Touching 8×10 Bereavement Poem, Double-matted In Burgundy/Dark Green, And Enhanced With Watercolor Graphics.

This beautiful poem speaks of the loss of a loved one. It expresses the pain that all of us feel when we experience the death of someone we dearly love.

Product Description
A Book of Grace (Words of peace and empowerment); Votive Candle; Chocolate Biscotti; Malta Bella Cappuccino Chocolates 2 oz; Tomato Basil Cheese Square; Stuffed Olives; Wildflower Honey; Herbal Tea; Golden Walnut Fudge Filled Shortbread Cookies 8 pc.; 5 oz Sarah’s Sweets Sourballs; Gourmet Treats Honey Mustard Pretzels 4 oz; White Confection Chocolates; Green Wicker Basket

(by Lisa G. Rodriguez)

Up the old Boul’ Mich’
Climb with steps erratic.
Steady . . . how I wish
I was in my attic!
Full am I with cheer;
In my heart the joy stirs;
Couldn’t be the beer,
Must have been the oysters.

In obscene array
Garbage cans spill over;
How I wish that they
Smelled as sweet as clover!
Charing women wait;
Cafes drop their shutters;
Rats perambulate
Up and down the gutters.

Down the darkened street
Market carts are creeping;
Horse with wary feet,
Red-faced driver sleeping.
Loads of vivid greens,
Carrots, leeks, potatoes,
Cabbages and beans,
Turnips and tomatoes.

Pair of dapper chaps,
Cigarettes and sashes,
Stare at me, perhaps
Desperate Apachès.

“Needn’t bother me,
Jolly well you know it;
Parceque je suis
Quartier Latin poet.

“Give you villanelles,
Madrigals and lyrics;
Ballades and rondels,
Odes and panegyrics.
Poet pinched and poor,
Pricked by cold and hunger;
Trouble’s troubadour,
Misery’s balladmonger.”

Think how queer it is!
Every move I’m making,
Cosmic gravity’s
Center I am shaking;
Oh, how droll to feel
(As I now am feeling),
Even as I reel,
All the world is reeling.

Reeling too the stars,
Neptune and Uranus,
Jupiter and Mars,
Mercury and Venus;
Suns and moons with me,
As I’m homeward straying,
All in sympathy
Swaying, swaying, swaying.

Lord! I’ve got a head.
Well, it’s not surprising.
I must gain my bed
Ere the sun be rising;
When the merry lark
In the sky is soaring,
I’ll refuse to hark,
I’ll be snoring, snoring.

Strike a sulphur match . . .
Ha! at last my garret.
Fumble at the latch,
Close the door and bar it.
Bed, you graciously
Wait, despite my scorning . . .
So, bibaciously
Mad old world, good morning.
(By Robert William Service)

‘Twas only juts a gentle pat,
Yet oh what sympathy behind it!
I don’t let anyone do that,
But somehow then I didn’t mind it.
He seemed my worry to divine,
With kindly smile, that foreign mannie,
And as we stood in waiting line
With tender touch he tapped my fanny.

It brought a ripple of romance
Into that postal bureau dreary;
He gave me such a smiling glance
That somehow I felt gay and cheery.
For information on my case
The postal folk searched nook and cranny;
He gently tapped, with smiling face,
His reassurance on my fanny.

So I’ll go back to Tennessee,
And they will ask: “How have you spent your
Brief holiday in gay Paree?”
But I’ll not speak of my adventure.
Oh say I’m spectacled and grey,
Oh say I’m sixty and a grannie -
But say that morn of May
A Frenchman flipped me on the fanny!
(by Robert William Service)