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About Deviant TheLastIconoclastMale/Ireland Groups :iconthepoemconsortium: ThePoemConsortium
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Deviant for 3 Years
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We must run, run, driving swiftly
Against the sun, to the river
The bomb did not wound, the bullet missed
And the fist drove back the Serb assailants .
Quickly now, hospital bound, the wounded
They must be seen to, kindness for the Kinder.
And yet we must depart. Bomb-welcomed,
We in disgust must fly.
Lost, lost amid the swirl-streets of Sarajevo,
There is the architect of history on the corner
He leaps, war brewing in his eyes
And sets the match to Europe.
Live for the children, live for the world,
We stumble back into the dark
It is nothing, it is nothing, it is nothing.
The beacons wail ever onward
As the to-ing and frow-ing begins
And frightened fire-fighters sell swift years
To quell the gutting fire within
As children rise from the bed
And clothed quickly in the fading night
To abandon Pripyat to the trees.

Now the great Wormwood has fallen,
The wheezing wind made a great waste of her
And the Red Forest, as dead men on parade
Stands o'er the broken, buried bones.
Sand and soil shroud them, keep the poison down
For the rivers weep with radiation
And the birds are blinded too.

The fences now girdle Chernobyl
And keep the chastity of the land
For the Towers stand deaf-mute
Over the country they once lit.
No one comes here anymore
Save the state and foreign seekers
Of the boneyard of Soviet dreams
And to marvel at man's atrocity
A wee work about the Chernobyl disaster. GET OUT OF HERE STALKER
The trees are all alight with the sun
And are bronze-burning in their death.
The sky swims with crow-oceans
And the cattle stand dumbly under them.
The fields become a quaking night
For movement shudders the blackness there
Sound scatters these flying feeders
Casts them to the wires and cords,
Lamp-posts and fences
While the horses snort in pride
And ignore the cars going by.
Fling yourself to futures, o brother,
Hammer out what ye may earn with mind
And master what babel tongues you can.
For the world is yet hungry
For the language the masters bestowed
And such we reap rewards in recompense.
But you left me far behind you.

This bent form o'er bankrupt glyphs,  
Long dead and since forgotten,
What profit to be made from the parents,
When the sons and daughters earn so much?
Aeneas' swift-whispered voice has fluttered out
And his people likewise too.
The echos of the speech earns your gold.
O brother, return and yet be glad.

The children swam out, oh how far,
From mother Latium, their power plain.
Yet crude barking to the islands sped
And now too their coarse wings are spread
For you to spit back and earn like for like.
I dwell with the parent tongues, and parents too.
For old declensions, classic death worship
Leaves me far behind you, brother.
Parting's Fondness
Something about a friend who I miss.
For the sake of peace, Brutii are born
Who had watched the tyrant's swell,
From year to stinking year,
And let his heart be yet unmoved?
There may yet be time, sweetest time
Where daggers are down-flung,
Yet not today, for there is butcher's work
To still be done upon the earth.
Yet, Christ-Liberator shall unbound the bound
And bring the statues down, the Ideologue's Idol.
Thus abrupt shall tyrant's rule o'er free and noble men.

Neath Heaven's sweetest climb, tyrants growl and prowl,
The lash is laughter on the ears of cast-down men
And truth-speakers lie amid the rusted chains of freedom.
Yet silver-sailing blades find the tyrant true
And wet the soil with ruler's blood.
Autocrat and despot, all alike shall tumble down.
Yet shall the graveyards throng with decent men
Afore the grip is slackened unto dust,
And grim anarchy shall tawdry all the loss,
Build more statues and call them statue-smashers.
For none shall give justice o'er all the world
Till all the world dissolves in flame.
Thus abrupt shall tyrant's rule o'er free and noble men.

The grasping hand that snatches the boy
And girdles him with clothes and rifle
Commands him to die for ideals he cannot know,
Shall be stabbed down before the throne.
The camps where generations bustle under lights,
Glares and groping by cruel watchmen,
Shall light the sky with fire and dance in death.
For God made the world, yet shall he unmake
And thus make all men equal in the sky
Thus abrupt shall tyrant's rule o'er free and noble men.
Thus Always
A phillipic against tyranny. 


TheLastIconoclast's Profile Picture
A ripped off, poorly written character with no involvement in the plot. Tends to act like the protagonist of any given Lovecraft story. Still, read his work. Someone has to.

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TheFlawedOne Featured By Owner Sep 3, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks so much for the watch!
xLuckyxFridayx13x Featured By Owner Nov 25, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy birthday!
copper9lives Featured By Owner Nov 7, 2014  Professional General Artist
:wave: Hello, Miles —  welcome to :iconpoetryparadise:!

We're happy to have you aboard! If you have any questions, comments, or suggestions, please :note: the group and your friendly neighborhood admins will get back to you ASAP.

Currently, we're hosting a monthly contest — check it out!

dannyPs-customs Featured By Owner Aug 29, 2014  Professional Digital Artist
Thanks for the watch!
BlutEisen Featured By Owner Mar 4, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the watch. ^^ 
BanditRingtail3 Featured By Owner Feb 11, 2014
Thank you for the favorite.
PoppySeedz Featured By Owner Oct 5, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you very much for the watch, Miles! :hug:
JesCallie Featured By Owner Sep 9, 2013   Traditional Artist
thank you for the fave on Hope
Netherheim Featured By Owner Sep 8, 2013  Hobbyist Artist
Thank you very much for the watch!
TheLastIconoclast Featured By Owner Sep 8, 2013
Something to get a fellow guard player on his feet.
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