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Syndel's Spire
Syndel's Spire

Introduction
My texts (78)
My series (10)

PHQ-Nickname:
Syndel

Halfquake:
Mania

Level:
74

Total kills:
19,843,348

Birthday:
00th 0000

Reckless

Mood:peaceful
Type:Poem
Added:March 26th 2009, 01:39:32
Visits:1014
Rating:5/5 (Votes: 1)

Description:
More stuff related to religion. Your feedback is important to me ^_^.

Reckless

Thou shalt not- Thou shalt heed-
Thou shalt listen, and obey the creed.
Thou shalt sigh, and thou shalt feed,
For wouldst thou break, thine soul thy ceed.

Retribution! O vengeful spirit,
Wouldst thou challenge my soul for virtue?
How for this test of purity and merit,
When value is given, no thought to accrue?
Thine laws are lost in ancient text,
Argued over by lords of hex,
Who squabble and bicker until the end,
Wherefore now are these souls to send?
O holy ghost and endless father,
Wouldst thou wish our men to falter?
Send thine clear instruction do,
For I do not believe in you.

Retribution? O man of god!
Surely you seek the leathered rod!
For what faith is this you preach to me,
When followed by a crack at thee,
Of whip, of pain, of flame again,
Warning of place where never rain,
Doth fall upon the ground so hot,
That all of man would wish it not.
But told by some happy clot,
Who takes fill of torture by the lot,
Surely this is so much rot,
When spoken by those virtuous not

Retribution, the howl of wind and rain,
Dark god's wrath has come again,
For when our souls were out of keeping,
Our faith and moral we found were seeping,
From cracks beneath our shattered minds,
Brought forth from uncouth, aggressive kinds.
This future sown by us unknowing,
And now we find that we are owing,
In faith and love, in heart and soul,
Virtue and hope, kindness we dole,
To those without choice, without future or lead,
Instead we ignore them and quaff our mead.

Retribution, divine punishment surely?
So quiet your tongue and do not act surly,
For they will sit and teach you slowly,
The arts of worship and life more lowly,
In service of that never known,
Our lord above, unfathomable creature,
His lawn is to be mown,
In worship of impeccable feature.
For his words do wipe our own impurity,
And give us all gift of security,
Beyond this life to life anew,
When Pascal's Wager guides us few,

Retribution! Yay! The madmen crave,
To send the unrighteous to their grave!
For all their gift of joy and song,
They never thought they'd be proven wrong.
Life to live and thoughts to give,
Free speech did wring them through,
The whole of truth, the logic sieve,
That caused the mutiny of crew.
Anarchy came along beside,
The law of freedom sat astride,
The horse of power, a mighty steed.
The reins of influence then did bleed.

Retribution, now! The heretic cried,
And with one last breath the last one died,
No moral now did hold the land,
No imaginary line writ in the sand,
All of man was free once more,
To make mistake and write their lore,
And scholars did write of ages past,
Where religion once did hoist it's mast,
And people were pure, and good and kind,
“Not like those you get these days, mind.”
Instead of instilled intrinsic value,
They relied on fear and rescue.

Retribution, O horrid phrase,
Across the dead the eye would gaze,
For those who held their tongue in fear,
Spake out among the fettered dear,
And not in too polite a word,
They attacked the ever-regal bird,
It's symbolism lost in age,
The attack was one with which to gauge,
The loss of restraint one feels,
When escaping from the seals,
Which tie us to the rock in storm,
And keep us tight, safe and warm.

Retribution? Now we do but cling to rock,
And hope our very souls do stock,
That before which we had got,
But now we believed had spent the lot;
God's grace, you see, was limited tender,
Not given freely to unjust lender,
Or criminal of defiance, the guilty deviant,
Or those uncaring, of course these can't
Hope for the future we hope and see,
But still a thought does nag at me:
For all it's beauty, and promises clear,
I still do love more the power of beer.

Recklessly I abandon my rock,
Of this life I do but lock,
Away any hope of divine intervention,
For I do not believe in ascension,
To places of restriction, free,
When to get there I need to restrict me.
And perhaps now by living life,
I've proved myself in right of fief,
And if such place exists beyond,
I shall not be banished from riches blonde,
For if thou exists I have respect of thee,
But till then, hark: I am and will be.

kowi
April 14th 2009, 19:12:07
Wow.. thats was a nice one.
Unfortanly my english isn't that good to understand the old phrases at the beginning... like thou or thine or wouldst and so one.
5/5

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