Beneath Winters grim, grey, cloud covered sky, the Reverend releases from the Archival Vaults a poem to match the weather..

Rev meditates, traffic calming

New Tyres and Teeth


No! No! No!

I need new Tyres and Teeth,

I told her, heart heavy with regret.

No more drugs

till I get that done at least!

But meanwhile as I spoke,

every taut stretched fibre of my Being

was being played like a Lyre,

twanging like a wire in the wind,


“No! No! Don’t listen to him! Lets Get On!”

It wasn’t drug-craving driving me on,

it was just that I couldn’t stand

that creeping sense of Foreboding,

waiting for the Worst to happen

and knowing that it would..

Fuck it! Lets just make it happen now

and be done with it, I said!

Far easier to surrender to Fatalism

than suffer the folly of Hope.

poppy snake reduced


Headlining JPIG



The Reverend Hellfire..

just as confused as you are.



~ by reverendhellfire on July 17, 2016.

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