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| acrylic painting digitally edited in Pixlr |
It is time for the Thursday/Friday post!
Today is a poem. Doomsday and music smashed together.
Anthem Strings
Cut down, cut up
Gleaming paths that soon erupt
Cut up, cut down
Plucking strings that make no sound
Falling stars are silver strings
They rain down for serfs and kings
Now the basses singe the ground
They never ask the why or how
Switch lies, switch lays
Swung around within the haze
Switch lays, switch lies
Wood winds dim chaotic skies
Blow the trumpets this is our doom
Raise the harps and cloak the moon
Crush the sun by pounding drums
This is our brilliant anthem
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