Poetic-Verses
I - THE HOOLY HOOD
And behold joy and gladness, slaying oxen, and killing sheep,
Eating flesh, and drinking wine; let us eat and drink, for
Tomorrow we shall die. Isaiah 28: 13.
Unique my drives; give me my fives;
The fly loads blood in tankers swift;
Blood is this sweet? Confirm it is.
Give him the jest of night time moans.
A ghastly munch; five babies soaked
Upon the throat, dripping blood float.
Cool down and dine, the evening rants
And smells of blood upon the thought.
Hovers around the town at night;
Motioning bed; roaming spirits
Of living men contacting wastes,
And killing men; random their slay.
A hit nine part, I mean splashed blood;
The sparrow soaks, the grip is won;
Of one sad night; baptize the cure.
Sack nights to nights and never find.
Sit still and dance by nine O'clock;
We'll go by three; question my time;
To stop the pregnancy of woman some.
You think it works? Hiak! Hiak! Hiak! Hiak!
Quel pen or bane, rent sense and sad;
Upon the stern, the cool pun fends
Arent the rent; kill twin and bin;
Open and drink, flying syringe.
Peep out your foot; it smells of blood;
The clot sore blood of babies, much
Drunk much at drum, come to your must,
Devour them once; teach them you're blood.
Governments are right when they but say
“It is not right to check them stern”.
Careless they seem to these their joy;
Reckless because no one but spoke.
Midnight! The sounds; the desperate cries,
And desperate growls, fever and griefs:
Of cholera and measles's bite
The cough so hard; AIDS calls and brags.
Defer the day; the worst heard day.
Violence is but cheap witchcraft;
The throng, the mob; the hitman's turns;
The cult will answer questions too.
Wake up at nine; stay up and pray!
The meeting starts by twelve am;
Will come the sorts in hoods around
From quarters rare; quench them, my Lord!
Eating flesh, and drinking wine; let us eat and drink, for
Tomorrow we shall die. Isaiah 28: 13.
Unique my drives; give me my fives;
The fly loads blood in tankers swift;
Blood is this sweet? Confirm it is.
Give him the jest of night time moans.
A ghastly munch; five babies soaked
Upon the throat, dripping blood float.
Cool down and dine, the evening rants
And smells of blood upon the thought.
Hovers around the town at night;
Motioning bed; roaming spirits
Of living men contacting wastes,
And killing men; random their slay.
A hit nine part, I mean splashed blood;
The sparrow soaks, the grip is won;
Of one sad night; baptize the cure.
Sack nights to nights and never find.
Sit still and dance by nine O'clock;
We'll go by three; question my time;
To stop the pregnancy of woman some.
You think it works? Hiak! Hiak! Hiak! Hiak!
Quel pen or bane, rent sense and sad;
Upon the stern, the cool pun fends
Arent the rent; kill twin and bin;
Open and drink, flying syringe.
Peep out your foot; it smells of blood;
The clot sore blood of babies, much
Drunk much at drum, come to your must,
Devour them once; teach them you're blood.
Governments are right when they but say
“It is not right to check them stern”.
Careless they seem to these their joy;
Reckless because no one but spoke.
Midnight! The sounds; the desperate cries,
And desperate growls, fever and griefs:
Of cholera and measles's bite
The cough so hard; AIDS calls and brags.
Defer the day; the worst heard day.
Violence is but cheap witchcraft;
The throng, the mob; the hitman's turns;
The cult will answer questions too.
Wake up at nine; stay up and pray!
The meeting starts by twelve am;
Will come the sorts in hoods around
From quarters rare; quench them, my Lord!
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
I - THE HOOLY HOOD
I - THE HOOLY HOOD
