The Body of Evil: Damien's Supplier pt. 1

[RhetoriK]

...The body of evil...


My words are battalions raised with galvanized-liquid swords and maces;
A plethora of daemons.
Sub-consciously squeezing you for information. Until you're in a semi stasis.
To term my complexity: I'd say that Death is Layman's
Vexed, impatient, meditation yet stoic phrases grace nations when their 'sons emblazoned'
Draconian, tasteless Rasputin's eyes, Jesus's walk and the caress of Satan
Invisible political rituals performed with a nine tailed whip, virgin flesh is raped when..
I strike blood from gods and splinter their Crusader's plates in
Walking over the rotten flesh of disciples, spouting the devilish bible
In the meadow at high noon, I'm scheduled to die soon then stilettos and rifles summon my tepid revival
The source of this brain fueled by what mis-accord and disdain do
torment their saviors;
then bathe in the spoils like the ancients
Mouths stuffed with corpulent rage fits.
Now engorged and inflated I spew wrath upon hordish invasions.
Octopillian arms, vermillion swarms of decay in the most heinous of cadence.
The beauty of malice stretches attention spans and absorbs the 'latent..see'
They'll all receive 'Christ Mast' ..flagrant. "Death to all" rebounds off the pavement, hark the 'Rave In' complacence.

...I twist in my throne...

Megatron's titanium gray tint; Centurion cloven hoofs,
I'm aggressive, never evasive...
Horror at my core, I flood vitality, snuff Southern Hospitality, and take it's head North.
Apocalyptic mutiny when War beats a pestilent-dead horse..man.
Step into my soul and get voided, anointed with sacrificial blood, in sacraments of love enacted with a slug, imbued by the seraphim of one...Deity
Freedom's leaving the 'pores' in wake, foreign faith makes it self at home, for less than a life's worth..a 'Moorish' fate
Armies storm in place, defiling God's green Earth..
The Lion of Zion's roaring face 'bored' away 'As land' based mechanized forces wait to scorch the trace of this enormous place and form a base.
The Fortitude multiples constantly at a Morman rate. My intuition is that of Norman Bate's, breathing Argon, enemies suffer a Gorgon's fate
Bitch-made tendencies get met with Persephone's glance,
If you don't get the point, the Phalanx of my mentality is leprosy; salvation looks in your face and says 'damn' with your deepest fears etched as the life line placed in my hand
All animals eaten, defeated, in an offered bereavement. They bow and 'crow' denying their vows of life with a scythe circled, in a slight dervish, muscle ripped to the white, nervous system and die worthless.
Ground into warpaint and taken to the jowl then reborn of Leviathan's bowel, a scientist's fowl as doves fly awkwardly, crying aloud
It's a cannibalistic, tepid Ramadan Necronomicron as the nine-tailed cat rapes virgin flesh, courage vexed to flourish death it's ominous
Corpses smile at heavens as the door closes on skeletons in Davey Jones locker. The 'dimension' is 9'11
As I slide disheveled, time is beveled and aligned with never
Rigamortis is fossiled to fuel my spinal seven, even the most rock solid persona is nothing more than a grinded pebble
Violent, somber...Miles, the walk is a viphe to goners i twist the auger proper in this the final slalom...
Bodies slide, embalmed in vile absithetic bile..
and that's just in my spine

...The body of evil...


To be continued....

[RhetoriK]

...The body of evil...


My words are battalions raised with galvanized-liquid swords and maces;
A plethora of daemons.
Sub-consciously squeezing you for information. Until you're in a semi stasis.
To term my complexity: I'd say that Death is Layman's
Vexed, impatient, meditation yet stoic phrases grace nations when their 'sons emblazoned'
Draconian, tasteless Rasputin's eyes, Jesus's walk and the caress of Satan
Invisible political rituals performed with a nine tailed whip, virgin flesh is raped when..
I strike blood from gods and splinter their Crusader's plates in
Walking over the rotten flesh of disciples, spouting the devilish bible
In the meadow at high noon, I'm scheduled to die soon then stilettos and rifles summon my tepid revival
The source of this brain fueled by what mis-accord and disdain do
torment their saviors;
then bathe in the spoils like the ancients
Mouths stuffed with corpulent rage fits.
Now engorged and inflated I spew wrath upon hordish invasions.
Octopillian arms, vermillion swarms of decay in the most heinous of cadence.
The beauty of malice stretches attention spans and absorbs the 'latent..see'
They'll all receive 'Christ Mast' ..flagrant. "Death to all" rebounds off the pavement, hark the 'Rave In' complacence.

...I twist in my throne...

Megatron's titanium gray tint; Centurion cloven hoofs,
I'm aggressive, never evasive...
Horror at my core, I flood vitality, snuff Southern Hospitality, and take it's head North.
Apocalyptic mutiny when War beats a pestilent-dead horse..man.
Step into my soul and get voided, anointed with sacrificial blood, in sacraments of love enacted with a slug, imbued by the seraphim of one...Deity
Freedom's leaving the 'pores' in wake, foreign faith makes it self at home, for less than a life's worth..a 'Moorish' fate
Armies storm in place, defiling God's green Earth..
The Lion of Zion's roaring face 'bored' away 'As land' based mechanized forces wait to scorch the trace of this enormous place and form a base.
The Fortitude multiples constantly at a Morman rate. My intuition is that of Norman Bate's, breathing Argon, enemies suffer a Gorgon's fate
Bitch-made tendencies get met with Persephone's glance,
If you don't get the point, the Phalanx of my mentality is leprosy; salvation looks in your face and says 'damn' with your deepest fears etched as the life line placed in my hand
All animals eaten, defeated, in an offered bereavement. They bow and 'crow' denying their vows of life with a scythe circled, in a slight dervish, muscle ripped to the white, nervous system and die worthless.
Ground into warpaint and taken to the jowl then reborn of Leviathan's bowel, a scientist's fowl as doves fly awkwardly, crying aloud
It's a cannibalistic, tepid Ramadan Necronomicron as the nine-tailed cat rapes virgin flesh, courage vexed to flourish death it's ominous
Corpses smile at heavens as the door closes on skeletons in Davey Jones locker. The 'dimension' is 9'11
As I slide disheveled, time is beveled and aligned with never
Rigamortis is fossiled to fuel my spinal seven, even the most rock solid persona is nothing more than a grinded pebble
Violent, somber...Miles, the walk is a viphe to goners i twist the auger proper in this the final slalom...
Bodies slide, embalmed in vile absithetic bile..
and that's just in my spine

...The body of evil...


To be continued....

[RhetoriK]

Don't be too harsh..lol..this was to break literal writers block. Lemme know.

[RhetoriK]

Don't be too harsh..lol..this was to break literal writers block. Lemme know.

[RhetoriK]

Bump.......

[RhetoriK]

Bump.......

[Askari]

This was pretty fucking heavy man. Apart from the odd grammar error it was deep and the vocab was certainly on point along with imagery and structure. Good work man.

[Askari]

This was pretty fucking heavy man. Apart from the odd grammar error it was deep and the vocab was certainly on point along with imagery and structure. Good work man.

[Dono]

Like I said before the main issue I have with your pieces is stylistic in nature. It feels so bogged down in vocabulary, rhyme schemes, and sentence fragments that it's hard for me to create a coherent picture in my mind. The transitions between sentences are rough and makes it hard to keep the overall scene straight. It almost feels like the content and meaning comes second, after the technical poetic aspects and what fits well.

When I read pieces like this I don't glean a whole lot from them. The continual jump of imagery is hard to follow and the grammar (or lack thereof) only makes it more difficult. To be fair, I know there's plenty of poetry like this out there and looking from that perspective it's great, just not suited to my tastes is all.

[Dono]

Like I said before the main issue I have with your pieces is stylistic in nature. It feels so bogged down in vocabulary, rhyme schemes, and sentence fragments that it's hard for me to create a coherent picture in my mind. The transitions between sentences are rough and makes it hard to keep the overall scene straight. It almost feels like the content and meaning comes second, after the technical poetic aspects and what fits well.

When I read pieces like this I don't glean a whole lot from them. The continual jump of imagery is hard to follow and the grammar (or lack thereof) only makes it more difficult. To be fair, I know there's plenty of poetry like this out there and looking from that perspective it's great, just not suited to my tastes is all.

[Erupt da Monsta]

u got all the aspects down except imagery. pretty much seemed like u focused alot on all the poetic details except that one. i couldnt really see everything you said . everything else was a1 tho.

[Erupt da Monsta]

u got all the aspects down except imagery. pretty much seemed like u focused alot on all the poetic details except that one. i couldnt really see everything you said . everything else was a1 tho.

[Erupt da Monsta]

well, basically what dono just said.

[Erupt da Monsta]

well, basically what dono just said.

[IV]

You know when you look at a surreal painting by a famous artist, and you think 'damn that's dope' but can't really explain why? and you keep looking at it and seeing all the details and emotions and wonder how the fuck somebody can create something like that? Reading this is like looking at one of those paintings. Amazing job boss.

As far as imagery goes, reading this i could see a dead spirit walking through everything that's wrong with the world but can't feel it, but can see and describe everybody elses pain and emotions. Might be a personal preference thing though.

[IV]

You know when you look at a surreal painting by a famous artist, and you think 'damn that's dope' but can't really explain why? and you keep looking at it and seeing all the details and emotions and wonder how the fuck somebody can create something like that? Reading this is like looking at one of those paintings. Amazing job boss.

As far as imagery goes, reading this i could see a dead spirit walking through everything that's wrong with the world but can't feel it, but can see and describe everybody elses pain and emotions. Might be a personal preference thing though.

[Catharsis]

I thought the grammar and imagery were dope.... "To term my complexity: I'd say that Death is Layman's" ...like I told you before Rik... that's fucking nice dude. It isn't the style I usually write in but I think that's why I enjoyed reading it all the more.
POETS.

[Catharsis]

I thought the grammar and imagery were dope.... "To term my complexity: I'd say that Death is Layman's" ...like I told you before Rik... that's fucking nice dude. It isn't the style I usually write in but I think that's why I enjoyed reading it all the more.
POETS.

[RhetoriK]

Thanks for the looks..first time checking since posting...pZz

[RhetoriK]

Thanks for the looks..first time checking since posting...pZz