In the Shadow of Crumbling Towers (old 5/17/07)



I gave my love an apple
She took a bite to be just as a worm
Just to bite the seeds out of their juicy repose
And the apple remains the meat of the kingdom

There are Agents at the door banging out suicide notes
In some sort of primitive morse code.
Our defenses fell apart, and they burned the orchards to the ground.
The screams echoed of the weeping trees.
The smell lingered for weeks.

What would it take to find an appropriate nemesis?
Maybe just this useless appleseed and a fertile plot?
Perhaps an assassination attempt and some sterile gloves?
Or maybe just a core of rot and worms?

This Grove makes a lousy battleground,
But as far as rookeries go it's a real gem.
Murders gather like generals to the highest point.
With photographs haunting their eyes.

[[[[there are things moving just beyond the light of the fire predators with a different motive echoing from every word monsters and devils coming to terms with who they are, chewing inappropriate flakes of skins and leaves]]]]


Evidence of the slaughter.
I gave my love the Heart of the World Tree.
She chewed her way to Ragnarok.
And burned a million crows searching for the murder.

Now my love no longer hungers.
No longer does this soil want for war.
No more do the dead feed the blossom.
No more does the apple feed the dead