TOXIC DARK GOTH : Death Poetry

The Sabbath of the dark harvest

A dark generation

filled with Goth- black webs

Grew up with vampires and blood

Dragon slayers, big toothy fangs

Movies that taught gore, sores

Blades and blade runners-

Dye their hair black, do some rave

Techno lasers, strange music

Leading them deeper into it

They still groove to it,

Wearing tattoo’s, oh Wenonah

Confessions of Vampires

Blood smearing their minds

Many wearing the scars from it

Drinking vials of blood,

Wearing darkness and graves

Sadness and pains

Watching arms and heads cut off

Blood, red dark bloody images

Damaging their innocent minds

Digging things from the grave yards

Children- generations filled with Goth

Freddie, mass murderers dark, dark

A preoccupation with death

Many tried to, did commit suicide

Take little pills call ecstasy

Others smoking meth, blowing up

Some freak out, die from it

Others addicted, for life-

Many victims of parents divorce

In an effort to belong they

Join cults., of movies- to belong

Oh that Manson he did kill- souls

So confused, they have no where

Left to go, no beliefs in anything

Good, gone, despair, no hope

So much bleeding, bloody music

Their minds, caught them in

His dark minds, snares of sing a longs

The Prince of Shoal, vibes

Ghoulish freaks, strange oddities’

Very dark, sad, several generations

Filled with sorrows, grief

Their eyes black blank stares

Living in a virtual reality of

Queer, strange movie beliefs

Possessions, possessed, poor

Children many now grown

are always depressed

Feel doomed. Can’t take

Enough pills to fix depression

Can’t find love so they

Ride the computer vortex

Seeking to find others like them

Writing dead spirits, of dread

When they hear its automatic

Writing, leading them to

A sixth mind dimension

Doing anything for attention-

Always wanting sympathy

Poor me, oh poor me oh my, I

Filled with thoughts of nothing

But them, flames of broken

Minds, archers, dark Spartans

Caught the babies when young

Now an angel tries to speak

To deliver them from destructive

Waves of gray dark tornados

They won’t listen, so enthralled

With the deep, despair

They arch the angel with no cares

So, selfish, in need they will not listen

To anything they need

Want to be famous, look at “me’s”

Ruled by fallen mind demon

Death revenge on human angels

Their role models whores and heiress’s

Of dark, stinging dead dying -

The living dead

The angel sent to deliver their minds

Turns head and lets them die

Watching the sun go down

Looks away, tears running

Down God’s cheek

Mourning the loss of once

Innocent children

Too many lost generations

Too far gone-

7:41am

August 26^th, 2007