An encloaking, dark epochIn which all life is now appraisedAnother valueless commodityOn which the paracious may feebly grazeIndebted homage to their mammonWhilst the mort is the music of the meekTranscendence from a beatifully brutal realityIs what I seek…Noxious, sully dolourIs not the sentiment upon which we feedBut precocious consciousnessDraws out a morbid nous to bleedChiselling out seething wordsWhich cut deep down to the boneAlways legibleSo be it on our own headstone…Rising to out own nadirReality we try to extirpateTrying to raise a twisted smileSimilar to that silver plateOn a coffin which is joinedHammering in each final nailLast kill and testamentLeft now intestate…Noxious, sully dolourIs not the thesis which is bledA precarious train of thoughtIn which mental cattle-trucks are ledCarving out skilful wordsWhich shear brittle bonesAlways spelt out wellWe just can’t leave the dead alone…Monographic textA terminal doctrine of diseased minds perplexedEnunciated epigramsEschatological, rotten requiemsAlways our own worst cynicsExorcisers of scorching scornDigging our own gravesBut never stand over and mournThe roulade now pandemoniumDisplaced in the muggy sodsEspoused with the macabreThe dead we filch and rob……Munificant bale……From the deviants staid…Execrations – taunting spiritual releaseExoneration – upon the perishable we feastExcogitation – picking at the bones of conventionExculpitation – foul verbal conflagration…Epigraphic text, a literary vexThe macabre perplexed, with corporeality meshedEuthenic textAn unpleasant journey, to a world perplexedCorporeal epigraphsEschatological unpleasantnessAlways forever crypticExercisers of twisted griefHelping you to dig up the interredWhilst fresh still are the wreathsThe harmony now pandemoniumHeard out in the muddy dirtEspoused with the bizzareWe play on our own turf……Epithetic text……A macabre rality perplexed…Execrations – literary tales of atrocities fairyExoneration – harsh, cold bloody marysExcogitation – a narcissistic eutechniqueExculpitation – perverse artworks, so unique…Monographic text, a literary vex