Necrosis
We still have eyes, 'neath the flaps
Of flesh, all parched and withered,
Aesthetic orbs of mirth turned sour,
Encrusted glaze of obscured marrow,
Reflected in our dusty retinas.
Our hapless stares, you do not see
The waning spark of decaying fancy,
For sun and moon, for sky and soil,
Yes, earth, our progenitors tomb.
And so, we dance on immortal graves,
Waltzing phantoms on sacred ground.
Corpses whisper, breathe death into our mouths,
Their ballads of eminent lore, sung by mocking voices,
Induce madness, in all those of stifled howls.
Yet still, we rave and rant, we whirl, we warble,
In hushed murmur, hear us roar insane, chaotic tunes.
Our laughter melts the weather'd stone, tears bejewel the sun,
And our lucid dreams drive the dead back down.
Still you gaze with vacant eyes upon our rotting mask,
We pass around, so near, and through
Your rigid frames and bloody, beating hearts,
But no notice do you take, no flinch, no shudder.
We curse your dumb and deafen'd ears,
A thorny, barbed lash of discourse,
We wield to scourge your countenance,
And drive a stake into your heart,
To wake the sleeping core.
Arise all undead souls, all silent screamers,
All those of scholar'd quill,
The battlefield has been chosen, the war begun,
Do you hear the clash of steel?
Release the songs, the melodic shafts,
To pierce their doubting souls.
Poetic hearts shall rejoice come morn,
The victory shall be ours. Their eyes will open, they shall sing as brothers,
At last, we shall be heard.
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