A Nietzschien Verse

I saw a man on fire walking through a blizzard. He was a beacon of hate in a land of death and loneliness. All here were frozen by the engineers of "equality" .

Only this flame of truth and immolating vengeance could endure. In his smoldering footsteps the ice began to melt and a dead voice spoke from beneath the snow covered graves.

-"Are you living to die? Or living to expand yourself upon the compass of the world! Are you consuming to just work the treadmill? Or consuming the very fabric of life to reach your higher aspirations!"

"Stay here to freeze and be equal to the dead or follow this man on fire before he burns away! And let not Lord Saturn eat your life. Step out of this time and make your own Aeon!"

-BLR

"Throne" (a poem)

What color is your throne?

As bleeding rats move reliquaries,

to entice the wind with chimes and bones, 

and move us past the cemetery gates...

Are we now awake?

Or still encased in glass,

with tinted glow-light moving past,

dried dead skin and empty veins-

though stained glass windows broken pane.

Sepulchre holds your sceptre's grace,

and shines eclipses upon a wounded face,

with weathered eye's of solid stone.

That gaze at empty scrolls and broken relic's-

shard's of skull and tortured edicts...

As the dust of souls moves-

down an altar stairway

past curtain's veil and statuary,

to secret crypt's and chambers,

whose eternal nameless moans.

Through torches gasping breathe 

light dark epiphanies of death!

Uncloaked now!- immortal sin, 

let Heaven's Hell begin--

And only now reveals the color of your THRONE!!!!!