The Time of the Seraphs

Chimera Poetry

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I have lit the lamps to guide them

and I pause

standing backmy skin tingling as they grow closer.

the skies will darken as it fills with their beating wings

yet no twilight will descend

for the the burning onesbring their illuminationtheir lightning with them.

the rushing the sonic-booming of the six winged will bring out the crowdsmaddened panickedscurrying like an anthill uncovered

but their eyes will still deceive

perceiving only the vaguest outlineghostly images

as if painted on a river

for none can see the colors dipped in heaven that have walked these brutish earthly planes

where the very air is corrosive to the soul.

the skies will darken and no escape remains.

the time of the Seraphs

the time of consuming

is upon us.

  I have lit the lamps to guide them

and now I bow my head and waitfor…

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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