PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Through arcades where shimmering snowfall

Lay in state with the sad and damned

A rent lament barely flung above a whisper

Drew Me like a ghost to the haunts of Man



I Found Her tempting fate between Her wrist and razor

A kindred spirit in a graveyard

Beneath the stature of a colder saviour

Mist hung like thieves wreathed in scant arabesques

And through the chill earth it bedwed Her drawling breast

Like a come dream true under etched glass spent

Making love to the beautiful dead



She has sinned and severed Heaven

And in it's vulgar sight

Two figures writhe, but one silhouette

Extends it's fingers to the light



"Gothic towers tottered on Her heels

As She fled asylum grounds

Committing hard crimes to soft cells

Where now another's screams resound"



From the gaspings in Her passing

Six feet under or beneath frayed gown

When Her hands pointed to midnight

In a white stained chamber bound



I Swept Her from the abyss of another dementia

Freeing Her soul from the fetters of fate

To take the reins of pleasure

Now nightwane mirrors freeze in seizure

At the glimpse of charmed pins in Her thighs

Ballrooms filled with black cats scratch

Out of spite and playful eyes



Pricked as a Witch Her stitches itch

For familiar lips to lick them dry

Whilst the dark regrasps, for if She asks

The Sun forsakes the rite to rise

And is the first to discern, that this Angel's return

Is a vengefull call on grace

For even martyrdom backs from it's suicide pacts

A leap of twisted fate betrayed...



The scars will last until the stars

Caught in Her train bewitched

Fall into line and yeild the sign

That Dawn in born to their eclipse



For Our In humankind

Comes an underdog day Sunrise

Rippling with fire llike femaledition



Iplintered Her coffin and lay on the floor

Of a vault with Her clasped as the moon hugs the shore

What treachery this that She breathed no more?

Christ you bastard!



I wished Her back but the dead adored Her

Even wild winds sang in chora for Her

Saffron from my heart, from the start I swore

We'd be together more...



Creation froze with the triumph of Death

But still She stirred and awoke bereft

Of concern save for the aeons left

To lead the darkness...



She schemes of growing power and the lengths sucked hard to get it

I dream of being God but ever living to regret it

Our fecund nature decrees that Jesus wept come for

The Devil on Her knees



To grant Her lows a remedy

And mine desire's wish

To taste thereof of Heaven's scent

As sick and twisted as it is

For Her corset laced with arsenic

Hides snake curves within Her midst

Whilst Her halo of white lies supplies

Her temple to what God forbids.



  ~Cradle of Filth