Digital drawing · Life · poetry

La memorie’ de los mortem historicae

Smile my dear nazguls.

Screech me your howlings,

As I watch not your turmoil,

As I not hear your dreaded songs,

As I not sense you’re electric sensitivity.

I will at least ask of him,

I will attempt to ask of his,

I would want those in tow for you.

Then let all those who were and in line,

Be free from litigation,

Be free from all misery,

Be free from it all.

In an instant it is a season to flame on.

In an instant all of not of your sins be raged on.

Like it or not,

Guide our world into the corrections of tomorrow’s future,

By our own decision that choose to see today . . . 

not the good,

not the intent,

nor for ill will.

But the strength that which guides the mouth,

nor mind or heart of any kind.


© Oliver Melendez



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