THE MOUNTAIN WEEPS
The mourning seems to have no end
As the morning star of joy seems to have fled,
For the mountain bleeds
Its flanks red with blood
Which copiously flows through the pores of its kids,
Poor souls taken off into tragedy lane
Slain before their times
As UB weeps.
Psychic mines waylay life
Blowing minds and bodies to shreds tragic
Rocking the boat of existence through tragedy bouts,
Raising vapours of fear and superstition
In the night of the night,
Time when demons walk
Walking like men during the day
But really half devils and half beasts in their subtle bodies unseen,
Roaring in blood-lust
Ready to devour more innocents
Even as UB weeps.
Come the unending funerals
The hypocrites grimace in macabre crying fake,
But really trying hard not to laugh at fallen heroes
Now laid flat on their backs,
No longer able to conjugate verbs and spray bullets of light
At ghost masters and regents of dooms-day kingdom,
Seeming to reign for now
As UB weeps
And all barely whisper:"Who is next?"
Is this the end then?
God forbid, for only one side of the story has been told,
The other being the legendary half man, and half rock
Womb for slowly bubbling magma
That will soon flow as invincible fire,
And woebetides the evil ones
For the blood-stained psychic courtyards
Polluted by black magic will be burned to stubble
Bringing to ashes the heathen priests who invoke the abyss.
The giants are gone, yes
Slain by the angels of chaos,
And the tender shoots are woebegone for a while,
But these will soon stand on gigantic shoulders
To take the weeping people forward into mutation vales
As they tread on the serpent in pain
Smashed to pieces by fire from the rock,
And peace once more descends onto death-scorched hearts and land
The hearth of regeneration bursting forth into rays of hope,
That will blind the usurpers,
As UB once more sups with its children
On bread of love.
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