the Art of a Dying Scream - the Art of My Last Breath In Silence

[RyuTseTung]

did this piece a few days ago... took me about thirty mins... i'd appreciate feedback...




the Art of a Dying Scream - the Art of My Last Breath In Silence



standing on a hill, i overlook a immense canvas of chaos
these days lost – missing in the stitching of this carpet i pray off
on a flayed cross, mounted with a smile is a demon head
several legions dead – i enjoy cries of sufferers, their freedom shred
breathing red, this engulfs my lungs with torment i perceive
skin torn, scents overwhelming – burning war tents as they grieve
an ancient wasteland – a battlefield covered in mounds of flesh
horrific existence, sounds of death fill the air with resounding breaths
while the proud may consider themselves above this art
others resist – i’d love to start on a traitor and carve his heart
understand its never good against evil – nothing is that simple
instead a dance for the nimble – carnage becomes an artistic symbol
the slicing through the air – a religion with its own hymnal
not for the weak of heart who, disgusted with blood, tremble
nowhere better can we see the foundation of a man’s mind
expand time – see the whole – from up by the command shrine
down to the sand line at night to a sentry drunk on bland wine
soar over crimson grass – corpses display the demise of a clan’s prime
know that war is truth – war’s our roots on this ugly planet
unforgiving bloodshed – a coming dead – you can’t fucking stand it
carnal animals clutched in innate combat, i see beyond that
i see pure perfection in naginata cleaving skull and the contact
a mutilated figure gasps in – suddenly in pain – he grasps this
when bokken broke him open, he abruptly realize this wasn’t practice
i whispered meditation then immediate motion – a fast kiss
no last wish – the opponent penetrated by blades sharper than cactus
war is a tool used by the divine when it becomes our time
when men struggle knee deep in blood, when shining sun is high
its survival of the fittest, the act of a cunning mind at work
the courage to run towards death even when you spine is hurt
in the end, i don’t see warzones - i see complex chess boards
no one struck with rest sores – the best wars contain obsessed hordes
a warrior can’t detest gore, i stands firm and protects scores
when finished, he expects more and creates myths that resurrect lore
leaving chests torn, marching through expansive carnage fields
pacifists smile as family die – then them too, befitting harmless kills
above this music, i see grand tutors of method and discipline
their simple teachings more intricate than the sentences riddles spin
let it be known – bloodlust creates true men and cripples kin
feeling like no other, violent tremors along arms as o-dachi rips in skin
thousands find tranquillity in duty – being equipped with Zen
thousands find their end – lives severed – engraved slits in chins


a faint whiff of my impending doom i feel near my chest
it’s a mixture of smells – blended with bodies seared to death
i remain quiet, knowing how this dishonour and failure ends
ignoring consolation – slapping the man who stale words lends
standing on hills at dusk – hidden demon of mine shrill with lust
my kaishakunin – or second – at my side, loyal until he fulfils this trust
duty too real to touch, but now nevertheless i sense its ghost
i recollect creed, admitting my abilities were unable to dent this host
on the battlefield i fought and danced with some of the greats
my life, a rapid pace – maybe too fast – now my death made haste
my strength is set stone through everything this trek showed
never flinching from fear, i construct this personal death poem


Holding forth this sword,
future, past, present – nothing
in the midst of fire
a fresh breeze of heaven strikes.


though i am a pillar of granite, even now my sweat groans
honourable in death i kneel, leaning forward – naked neck prone
tanto away from my stomach, i draw a line – my final step forged
tracing the path of my naval, all then spills forward – vitals disgorged
first left to right, creating a slit where my spirit will fly away
a second upwards cut parades my intestines – im ready to die today
aura of achievement assails me as i struggle to stay upright
staying strong as lungs fight – i did everything i needed in one life
gentle swishing rush of air i heed – its prediction impending
cold steel, how does it feel? soon i’ll know – precise descending
life’s flying taste is wasted as im embraced into dying grace
my eyes closed and i realized paradise – is that a smiling face?
no – its nothing but perfected blank continuation – all white
its all right – my flawless ending – with my severed skull, falls night



http://www.u-blog.net/resetparam/img/MKe_Seppuku.jpg

[a speedo model]

i liked it, very well-written. keep up the amazing work, dude.

[Anton Djamoos]

I didn't read your poetry, I was too entranced by your signature. But I will read it and comment on it later.

[NobodysSlave]

wow dude i was reading and it was like *imagery* to the max...i luved it good stuff man, i'd worship u but buddha might get mad ;-)

[a speedo model]

:o