Hecatomb

On sacrifice

Perfect flesh, torn asunder, all to bring back rolling thunder
Beat the drum, feed the beast, wake the gods amidst their slumber
Feel the earth, paint it red, let the sound sough through your head
Feed the dead, feed the dead. Hecatomb Hecatomb.

Long years running backwards through the time of all broke bones
While the voices in your head convince your soul to pick up stones
and place them down upon pure head, crimson coats poor Gaia red
Feed the dead, feed the dead. Hecatomb Hecatomb.

The soles are pulling back and yet the souls are pushing forward
and the virgins dressed in lead are led by men who give short foreword,
then the holy man spits dread, convincing men to pick up stones,
Feed the dead, feed the dead. Hecatomb Hecatomb.

Bacchanals revel! The light of life goes out.
Condemn a foal to hell, whilst red wine pours from a spout.
Ambrosia paints slung stones, leaving naught but broken bones
Feed the dead, feed the dead. Hecatomb Hecatomb.

Author's Note

Please Enjoy!

Reviews

[Luisa]

I love this one so much. This is EXACTLY what I meant by a solid rhyme scheme in the last review I gave you. It reads so rhythmically – it sounds like a drum beating in my head as I read it. The images also create a really vivid mood, and it just reads really really well to me. I absolutely love this one.

[Wolfhilde]

This is prefect! lovely work.