Dance of The Dead

Half a silver of the moon
Hanging upon wisps of purple clouds
Casting an ominous presence upon the earthly figures
Dancing on the shores
Transcending reality into ecstasy

Mortifyingly unfolds before you a scene of
Sins and excesses
Mass orgies of the mind
Oblivious to the surroundings
The stick figures carry on their transgressions

Take a closer look at their faces if you dare
Zoom in for a mind-altering experience
Observe their hollowed expressions of happiness
Their skins no more than husks of shriveled consciences

Haggled faces greet you with glee
Eyes that see but are not seeing
Sunken orbs of stone
Faculties deprived of use
Stone lions guarding the looted homes

Limbs a’flaying left and right
Swaying to the Devil’s movements
Invisible strings
Puppets in a play

A grandiose play if there was ever one
Set upon the vast stage of the globe
You the sole audience in its balcony seat
Viewing the horror of horrors in all its blackest glory
The Devil the flourishing conductor beneath

Take a closer look than before
And stifle the heinous pumping of your guilty heart
Are you shocked
To see familiar faces hanging upon the heads?


Entangle themselves the figures in the thick threads
Of insatiable wants and desires for all things golden
Cutting off their only way to salvation
Death comes and meets them for a coffee session

Empty husks upon the shores lit by a full moon
And if you look closer and
Horror doesn’t strike you

Figures devoid of faces you will see
Hanging lifelessly
Like slates wiped all over for a fresh start
The conductor looking for fresh blood

Auditions have begun
All over again