Buttercups

 

The spark has been lit.

Trapped amongst the downfall and decline

in the pit where demons spit hate and rage,

under hells fiery lock

and mystic key.

The army of the beast,

are marching on the spot,

itching to be set free,

released to wreak havoc

on these sleepy streets.

 

The alarms have

all been set.

Time is almost up.

The arms are being polished.

Won't you dance with me in the buttercups?

The plans are

being written.

We can try to forget, in love smitten eyes,

ignore the pain etched upon the sky.

The seconds tick by,

hellish armies cheer.

The hour is near.

We can get away from here, but where?

The armies will end up everywhere

 

 

The heavy thud of hell bound

clock hands counting down.

Amplified seconds

like thunder strikes.

The army step in time.

Straining to be set free,

to wallow in the final hours

of slime and misery.

The heavy thud of hell bound

agitators whip hands counting down.

Amplified screams echo around.

The army froth from tooth filled jawline.

They will be reigning in no time.

 

Won't you dance with me in the buttercups?

Witness the yellow glow declare love.

It's our best chance

against these beasts from below.

That ancient glow that speaks

of hearts reaching out to hearts.

Souls touching, becoming whole.

Searching stars for dust born sands,

strands entwining

like the young lovers holding hands,

something uniquely divine

in the way love overpowers hate.

Time after time.

 

 

 

Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
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You can find my New book
"Tales from the 44A"
here
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DBKXPN13/

Please buy a copy to help me
continue to do this.

Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle