Nomads and Red Hot Redemption

“Nomads, Tattered Pavements and Red Hot Redemption”

- Chasing scabs of hematoma finesse, devour flaming beneath
A roaming fire ant stumbles upon an enticing physique

- Anatomy excuses of famished heart, blooming abdomen, hazel lava
Cotton hands, roguish hair and thighs demising as rotten guava

- Good Lord, Shoulders hunching under perilous burdens
Arms, lifeless silk threads, hooked to collarbone curtains

-Dizzy head, Frosty breaths reeking of intoxication
Such Savagery dedicated to oblivion and salvation

- The face of a demon washed by sucrose volcanoes in hell
No talk of that lush mouth, wax blushes, kingdoms fell

- A bug knows no bounds to loss and grief
A slain gloat, to it is, but a meaty relief

- Warzones; raging feasts, all the pests; hearty guests
Yet it cowers to partake, napkins disguised as vests

- Trouble or sin, brought you to our humble kin here?’
It inquires the boy, enormity no longer a dare

-‘World is a gaudy circus, Niche people are hell’
Comes his reply, ache chipping his shell

-‘Crimes crawl their minds at every juicy nerve
Clean slates are ambient toys, rugged altars for verve’

- ‘Each wraps million, hiding contaminated ciphers
Goblin-like, chew and digest unalloyed fibers’

- Whispering ‘Hell’s Kitchen Angel?!’ The ant exclaimed
You are the hybrid that Inferno and Zion had maimed?’

- ‘ Word is,soul ripped, exile leads you to judgment’
Tales of your injustice and torment run crescent’

- ‘ Purgatory is open for thee stay and thee fate
Join us in eternal damnation as a bait’

- ‘ Enjoy the middle, envelope suds of soapy baptism
Chafe it hard, skin it raw, cleanse into hypnotism’

-Clinging to life, a scared child, he descends to Torment
Wounds singing, unhinged, resorts not to lament

- As the Ants tether up branding remnants of claim
Stingers are acute and steady, his bellows can’t blame

- One advises Forsake all hope and dump your polluted spirit
Spit out your zeal, seal, backbone, your throne, see it split

- ‘We will sew one that is new, white and lucidum
Failure ain’t no fun when Lucifer steers the rhythm’

- Life Sentence; Hiraeth, Meek Marble Orphan
Out of words, Out of Vigor, Out of Imogen

- Woes, Morose, Anguish with Scourge ruling veins
The Forlorn don’t rest until the blaze isn’t tamed

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

CharcoalKingdomTales

I wrote this poem keeping a rough image of 'suffering' in my mind. Being stuck in the middle, surrounded by your demons, drowning in depression. This isn't exactly an ideal state and one that is definitely hard to escape, i hope that whoever reads this can feel a sense of familiarity with such pain, or any pain they would like to associate this poem with. 

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