improv, For God’s Sake

the sand is swept along a bone dry white shore 

White as a ghost 

which is the most I could say in this listless foul lae 

a fairy tale though not so well the tides that tell the hour’s bell 

diing the doom that tolls at noon is not the end no it’s not noon

it is doom as judgment that fell curse 

that god should gift us at our birth

a longing for this world and all 

the magical devilish flesh enthralled

the senses indulgent in delicacies 

the mind in intricacies as complex as patterns be 

that riven through the ivy and gives lie to the leaf

the kiss of death is all we felt when handed into hands who failed

to catch us when we fell from heights

Such as no stone vessel of might

should hold its form yet lessers might

ne’er break themselves hold they so tight

so self-wound and tightly held

the sundered glass shatters and swells

but the glass that’s long in breaking was a force to behold

beheld in its moment of breaking and bold

the rose is in bloom the rose is so cold

it’d die by any name yet it glows

for the lovely kiss it brings like the queen of brightest spriong

the maiden of the woodland realm the faery of the spring

the joy in every step that each babe has ever dreamt

To take in ill-contempt

The gift of life in its first steps before the warranty is left 

and the battery runs low ere the candle burns lightly 

the sun will outlive anyone yell soft and yell mightily

Once there was a temptress fond of fell-machines and delviry

the kind that smoke and feed on leaves

and burn the earth in industry

might we take care this world this fair

ruby of blue cast through neverwhere 

adrift in a stream whence none can esteem

thither none can envision though few dare dream

of the guardians of morning or the endless spring

the fear of silence is no violence worry not me lads

in the end the ears will fail and the silence will with wails 

fall on deaf ears death hears all

and sucks it in its mannish maw 

engorging empathy spider you spin

your devilish dreamworld let’s begin

you monster you god you demon you fraud

give me the world or give to it all

the meak and poor who have the least and pay the most of all

give to the orpahns lest they should be famished

give to those caught between swords and such malice

that divides into a being who is one in truth in all forms yet 

it bleeds to break the beach is swept

by bones that broke ere bones that wept

for boneless spirits dwelling ere the haunted lands between the worlds

the window into eons sideways and 

filled to them briim with obsidian 

with fire and brimstone that old taudry sing song

they gave the mizvote to a man who but spoke

a bit less eloquent and yet

cast the snake from out the staff and brought the pharaoh to his wrath

but ramses rests ere times have past

Agamemnon’s casket has surpassed

the most blasphemed treasure ever yet 

blasphemed against the moment when

we pull the rug from time’s dread feet

Published by

Brandon K. Nobles

Brandon is an author, poet and head writer for Sir Swag on YouTube. With 630k subscribers. Since February 2021 he has written for the most important and popular series, News Without the Bulls%!t and the least popular work on the channel, History Abridged. Brandon joined the channel in late January, since then his work has been featured every month in News and History. His novels and works of fiction have also been well received, and he continues to be a proficient and professional chess player. In his spare time he like to catch up on work.

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