Feathers of Fallen Stanzas

Why am I held in such low esteem...

I seem to bleed in the same streams much like you...

I'm stuck with the same fruits of labored green much like you... 

I can't figure out the difference between you and me...

The shifting of esteem from the tips of trees to the rot of my cross to bear. Let's see the ease in which you stop and stare. My hair stands on edge when you blare your trumpets loud, but people seem to suck it up. I'm fed up with it, though, and in slow-mo I grow old. Each day is a step in every direction but the one I want to be directed in. Stuck in your woes, can't get out of the low-blow infectious slinging misery you wear like bling, baby. Take it away and steady ease the stream of breath, let it fold in, then boldly let the flouncing begin again. Benign trouncing of the brain again. Lady be nice, or take ready blame, as the aim of my against the grain flailing will find us sandy and hailed bland. Stand between us and flow cold blasted. 

A dragon masted established grand master, tasked and asked to dance the seven layers of hells bells to the tune of sick tapped melodies. Fallacy melding to the roof of my sapped mouth, i'm humming, running to sell the felling of angels. Demons upon an altar swell with pride as the salt of my eyes see screaming men dangling dangerously on the edge of nightmares.

A test of prayers, and I swear stormy weather in hell is different when wrapped in feathers of fallen stanzas. Dabbed the smoke from murky magma to find eggs slurping my friends entrails. It's a real fiendish trend in hell to crave blended details.

Then...

Insipid lightning finds me inviting the slighting of hiding mice and icing for blighted tidings against me...

Alone dice cast to speak with god stoned, a hell zone and mercy go hand in hand. The stand against it all ran as dry as my last lines when confronted with the rhyming law I must abide. When striking a deal with Satans rival one last time, my minds eye finds me standing fine once again, blind at eternity's edge. My certainty is certainly oblivion when i met her that fine summer on the grind. On the mend to make amends with the bitter ends made and bridges bent.

I can't send away the magical potion notion that things set in motion from tragic explosions craved havoc. Knowing that I would someday wear a mages colors, and bend bright tragic smoldering light turned to white fire to blaze smoothly upon frosty blood-soaked altars; where I sit weaving a song of ghostly wrongs gone past...

As angels and demons soothe they past with bong hits from gravitys fall. The wall of grit leaves me breathless and token edible defenseless. A strong breeze flows in from the south, now gone, my mouth runs dry as bone. My tone shifts now, and blown over with worldly desire, I stray to the fire of swirling liars... 

Reviews

[Paper]

I like this a lot. There are a lot of cool images to play with.

But I think some of them lose a bit of their punch with the extended sentences. The strings of dense phrases leads to a bit of "sensory overload," that I think cheapens some of what's in there.

This bit for example--

"A dragon masted established grand master, tasked and asked to dance the seven layers of hells bells to the tune of sick tapped melodies. Fallacy melding to the roof of my sapped mouth, i'm humming, running to sell the felling of angels. Demons upon an altar swell with pride as the salt of my eyes see screaming men dangling dangerously on the edge of nightmares."

--Might have a bit more oomph if you're a bit more "marcato" with your imagery. Let the images sing for themselves. If they're good enough, that works. Otherwise, they're competing with each other for attention when they stream by too quickly or are crammed too densely into a single sentence.

[Chase Dylan]

Hey, Paper, that is a solid point you have, and I had to go look up what "marcato" meant... Haha... Super solid advice, I, myself, questioned that line quite a bit, I kept it that way because I was tired of working on this one, and it was not cooperating with the beat playing.. Great eye, and very good catch... I appreciate the criticism immensely...

[Elyralune]

"On the mend to make amends with the bitter ends made and bridges bent."

Enough said.

[Chase Dylan]

Haha... Thank you... "Nuff said...

[Elyralune]

Oh and "... to the rot of my cross to bear." The imagery you invoke is gorgeously detailed.

[Coyote Poetry]

I enjoyed the story a lot in the poem.
"As angels and demons soothe they past with bong hits from gravitys fall. The wall of grit leaves me breathless and token edible defenseless. A strong breeze flows in from the south, now gone, my mouth runs dry as bone. My tone shifts now, and blown over with worldly desire, I stray to the fire of swirling liars... "
The above lines are classic. Amazing use of words and thoughts. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote

[Chase Dylan]

Thank you, Coyote, your reviews are always insightful and kind, I am ever so pleased you found joy in my work...

[Coyote Poetry]

Was my pleasure and you are welcome.

[CAPOLAVORO]

Okay so this one is brand new to me. I felt like by reading this it takes me to a new level. It such a music to my ears and a color to my eyes. Great write!

[Chase Dylan]

Absolute music to my ears, to hear such wonderful praise... I am glad you enjoyed it, so...

[CAPOLAVORO]

Why, yes of course. This is absolutely a good piece sir. :)

[writ rajat]

you have ignited a new era of writing

[Chase Dylan]

Thank you, Rajat, I appreciate that very much...

[duff]

Your poetry puts a smile on my face man. Again, every time I read your work it puts a sick beat in my head. This might be my favorite. You've got some great lines in here. I enjoyed this

[Chase Dylan]

Thanks, Mr. Duff, I appreciate it....

[duff]

Absolutely my man