A bloodship sailing over bloodsea, bloodstream trailing. Bloody faces, bloodied hands. Bloody bodies in the sand. Buried deep, a bloodseed sleeping. Soon to sprout, a bloodstalk creeping. From the Earth, a bloodtree born. Bloodred fruits, of hatred, scorn. Bloodfilled hopes and bloodfull dreams, of flesh by bloody branches torn, apart amidst bloodcurdling screams. What a scene, oh what a sight, great gory garden of delight. Dwellings razed and set alight, all ablaze, none left to fight. Just strange fruits fallen, adorn the ground, a Woman wailing, what a sound, bloodsoaked by the corpse she's cradling. All light fading. Putrefaction. Bloodlust sated. Satisfaction. ~MStJ~
An emerging poet of the New Age. His work is born from deep contemplation of truth and love.