SymMetrical

From within the darkened alleys under the moon face-lit sky produced an awful creature not seen by naked eye This Thing; it had a figure  that was straight as a needle, that you would see perched upon catholic cathedrals Twas a Gargoyle yes, of garish facade a chiseled stone structure powerful like a god midnight London fog was the creature's disguise the body count rises as victims meet their demise wings stretch on high lifting up like a feather bloodshed didn't differ depending on the weather creature swoops; dark envelops the poor sap that mutters "there's no place like London" blood trickles down the gutters the sewers of society the stone beast perched up high looking down upon the town which victim's end was Nigh?

A Farmer was all any passer-by did see just a man with a pitchfork not tormented by greed T'was a painted portrait of simplicity and seclusion it was all he would ever need No-one could see past his carefully set stage the one that never moved the one that never swayed No light would ever shine  upon the farmers task the one he had hidden kept secret from the past The Pitchfork and The Farmer you could say they were, "Best Friends" they needed each other to carry out its demands It was the one the one that had possessed the farm and the farmer the pitchfork, and the rest observed from a distance no questions or concerns the portrait of the farm was worn and all too blurred T'was a painted portrait of malice and greed it was all the possessor would ever need  

The bullet; it traveled from ten feet away powered by vengeance it's target?  The Brain! The bullet; it closed in it knew where to be from outside the barrel to the inside         of me The bullet; it punctured the skin of my head the flesh burned away down my face trickled    red The bullet; exploded! a hole in my crown my nerves were all shot I fell towards the ground The bullet; it left me just like everything in it a hole blown through my life and I don't even miss it The zombies; they bit him just like they bit me and then he'l come alive, and get shot, THEN HE'L SEE!   

Living two lives first one, then the other a terrible plight disguised as another The bodies are piled one on another I now wish to be disguised as the other To be living that life with a wife and a home that is until night-fall that's when I start to roam. That's when I get the urge the pounding ground beckons to start once again making bleeders of peasants It was how my brother had spent his nights until he was killed from a rabid dogs bite Living two lives first one, then the other a terrible plight disguised as my brother

A jagged rock from the depths below injects itself into  the ship inner soul from high and majestic to lost and forgotten Our ships hull had been breached by the depths that were rotten Our vessel had plunged into the cold waters to fall slowly towards the two siren daughters Who would use this large ocean to swallow us whole and become lost in the void of the seas blackened soul   

Blackened streets of which were callused marks upon the earth unbalanced  plant life withered and creatures fled they knew that Death had reared its head The trees that burned and the buildings crushed could not quench our old friends lust but Mother Nature looked around and took into account the ground of which was dead and black as night And She Showed death his Weakness: LIGHT  So, the dark had subsided and as did our creature to Return once again when things seemed much bleaker   

Screaming Chattering burning White Noise down a throat bleeding                            silently

A writer, A Scholar A Poet       A Mauler of mechanized life a tormented color What intellect granted naivety replaced to substitute knowledge and beauty and grace blood shed and malice and those that were slaughtered were placed in the hands  of a poet and mauler    

A wretched disaster when floorboards collapse the flames had licked down his huge home-like mass Out on the streets the madness creeps closer from up on the rooftops to the gun in his holster A deafening blast from barrel to bullet and into the heart of Mr. McCruette The Money, The Wealth The Power was there with invigoration the light of Crime glared A SINFUL DESIRE of rouge colored passion the bodies fell dead  while blue men took action seemingly numbered  a thousand to ONE This wasn't a game   he started to run down through the streets where fond memories grew a shot to the back and all things turned blue The rouge road was missing  and so was his life THAT Sinful desire capsized in-the-night.    

A creature feature from atomic creation culture was spiking with brittle foundations