The Barren Earth Oozes Blood, and Shakes and Moans, to Drink Her Children's Gore (Part II)

When innocence unfolds deep within the heart<br/> and joy on every bough does bide awhile and memories of verdant grass the obdurate soul beguile<br/> and cure whatever is amiss<br/> <br/> when you think yourself a gardener<br/> lovingly ploughing the soil<br/> and watering the parched earth<br/> my blood like a springtide does rise so high and overflows all bounds<br/> <br/> the orbless skull fancies a horrid benefactor's numinosity<br/> and dwells in changing sameness of nought that gluts the throat of all<br/> oh, barren earth — is this the new creation of nought?<br/> shall the gardener's plough trace a cleaving rut through parched soil<br/> to entice your black sap from deep below?<br/> the young bosom is cold for lack of mother earth's nourishment, tears and care<br/> <br/> we weep over the officious glory of death<br/> and death dwells in cities where the roots of every heart on earth infix deep their restless twists and wither<br/> <br/> the barren earth oozes blood and shakes and moans, to drink her children's gore<br/> I love your head — though vile it is<br/> a gardener ploughs the earth to reap the fetid ears<br/> to feed the young whose bosom is cold for lack of mother's nourishment<br/> <br/> and clouds are fraught with swords of lightning that part the shroud<br/> concealing the gardener's vision and chasing slumber from her eyes<br/> <br/> the transgressor hungers for new worlds to inherit<br/> black as bereft of light<br/> the pathless ways lead through vales anon<br/> and faint and weary I shall rest and sink into the barren earth

Submitted by SerpentEve — May 09, 2026