Quotes about slayer, page 6
Killer Compilation of Death
The foglight flickers on and off
Giving the scene a ghostly illumination
The murderer scampers across the state line
In search of a cave, he will find it this time
His crimes are unknown to the world around him
But they will know, they will know soon enough
Don’t try to look for him
The slayer is in your mind
He only comes out when the stars are aligned
The gentle folk in town are running about
A happy time, doing what they do
They fetch water from the cave by the old mine
There is a man who lives in there
He only comes out at night
The town has not always been so perfect
A mass murder several years ago
They man fled town, he went on the run
By himself with no one to come
But just last night he was seen walking
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poem by Robbie Squires
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Sîva
Mors Janua Vitae.
I am the God of the sensuous fire
That moulds all Nature in forms divine;
The symbols of death and of man’s desire,
The springs of change in the world, are mine;
The organs of birth and the circlet of bones,
And the light loves carved on the temple stones.
I am the lord of delights and pain,
Of the pest that killeth, of fruitful joys;
I rule the currents of heart and vein;
A touch gives passion, a look destroys;
In the heat and cold of my lightest breath
Is the might incarnate of Lust and Death.
If a thousand altars stream with blood
Of the victims slain by the chanting priest,
Is a great God lured by the savoury food?
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poem by Alfred Comyn Lyall
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Episode 40
THAT battle-toil bade he at burg to announce,
at the fort on the cliff, where, full of sorrow,
all the morning earls had sat,
daring shieldsmen, in doubt of twain:
would they wail as dead, or welcome home,
their lord beloved? Little kept back
of the tidings new, but told them all,
the herald that up the headland rode. --
"Now the willing-giver to Weder folk
in death-bed lies; the Lord of Geats
on the slaughter-bed sleeps by the serpent's deed!
And beside him is stretched that slayer-of-men
with knife-wounds sick: no sword availed
on the awesome thing in any wise
to work a wound. There Wiglaf sitteth,
Weohstan's bairn, by Beowulf's side,
the living earl by the other dead,
and heavy of heart a head-watch keeps
o'er friend and foe. -- Now our folk may look
for waging of war when once unhidden
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poem by Anonymous Olde English
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I Tell It Like It Is
I Tell It Like It Is
Date: October 15,2012
Again I wake in this retched place
Where the devil glares with grimaced face
Reading my heart, stripping it bare
Savoring the scent of the secrets there
I'm slipping and sliding, the ice too thin
Carefully creeping, lest I fall in
I'm holding on tight with a white knuckle grip
Knowing he waits, for the moment I slip
And just as before, the first time I fell
He stood at the ready, casting a spell
Quick as a wink, he swiftly swooped in
Leading me down his pathway of sin
Dashing and daring, he's handsome and strong
He tied me in strings; then led me along
His clutch was so quick, I had nowhere to run
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poem by Leria Hawkins
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The Destroyers
1898
The strength of twice three thousand horse
That seeks the single goal;
The line that holds the rending course,
The hate that swings the whole;
The stripped hulls, slinking through the gloom,
At gaze and gone again --
The Brides of Death that wait the groom --
The Choosers of the Slain!
Offshore where sea and skyline blend
In rain, the daylight dies;
The sullen, shouldering sweels attend
Night and our sacrifice.
Adown the stricken capes no flare --
No mark on spit or bar, --
Birdled and desperate we dare
The blindfold game of war.
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poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Achilles And The Slaying Of Hector
Achilles took the slain body of proud Prince Hector
slit holes through warrior corpse ankles and proceeded
to drag Hector’s defeated slain body behind his chariot
an ignoble act of revenge bitterness hate anger contempt
Achilles killed proud Hector with a single spear thrust
Achilles refused to eat mourns on Olympian ambrosia
Achilles killed Hector with a spear thrust into the neck
proud noble neck the only vulnerable on Hector’s body
Hector who wore the god made prize armour of Achilles
armour stripped from slain Patroclus beloved of Achilles
in grief how anger festered into revenge rage in Achilles
Hector victim of vengeance dies a slow agonizing death
Hector accepted his fate begged Achilles treat his body
with respect once slain but hubris was wrath of Achilles
shamelessly Achilles desecrates the Trojan heroes body
for nine days dragging slain corpse around the battlefield
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poem by Terence George Craddock
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Episode 39
IT was heavy hap for that hero young
on his lord beloved to look and find him
lying on earth with life at end,
sorrowful sight. But the slayer too,
awful earth-dragon, empty of breath,
lay felled in fight, nor, fain of its treasure,
could the writhing monster rule it more.
For edges of iron had ended its days,
hard and battle-sharp, hammers' leaving;
and that flier-afar had fallen to ground
hushed by its hurt, its hoard all near,
no longer lusty aloft to whirl
at midnight, making its merriment seen,
proud of its prizes: prone it sank
by the handiwork of the hero-king.
Forsooth among folk but few achieve,
-- though sturdy and strong, as stories tell me,
and never so daring in deed of valor, --
the perilous breath of a poison-foe
to brave, and to rush on the ring-board hall,
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poem by Anonymous Olde English
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What A Shadow
What a shadow walks in the aftermath of realization;
I don't want to know what I know,
I don't want to sing what I sing
to the harp of the sagging powerlines
and the burnt guitars of naked trees.
I don't want a music that shatters like glass,
the broken coal of a menagerie of black strawberry hearts
reeking of sulfurous roses.
And there's a sword in the rain
with blood on it
dispersing like an explanation.
And it's hard to tell the true from the crazy
in this infinite solitude of awareness
that sways me like a bell or a willow
between one extreme and the other,
a kind of walking through arboreal mythogems,
Druidic tree alphabets, whistling in the dark.
Tender, eerie, and promising
the light that saturates the air after a storm,
the infernal glow of dark fire-gods
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poem by Patrick White
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Genesis BK XVIII
(ll. 1082-1089) And there was also in that tribe another son of
Lamech, called Tubal Cain, a smith skilled in his craft. He was
the first of all men on the earth to fashion tools of husbandry;
and far and wide the city-dwelling sons of men made use of bronze
and iron.
(ll. 1090-1103) Then to his two beloved wives, Adah and Zillah,
Lamech rehearsed a tale of shame: "I have struck down a kinsman
unto death! I have defiled my hands with the blood of Cain! I
smote down Enoch's father, slayer of Abel, and poured his blood
upon the ground. Full well I know that for that mortal deed
shall come God's seven-fold vengeance. With fearful torment
shall my deed of death and murder be requited, when I go hence."
(ll. 1104-1111) Then another son was born to Adam in Abel's
stead; and his name was Seth. He was a righteous son and
blessed, a solace to his parents, his father and mother, Adam and
Eve. And he filled the place of Abel in the world. Then Adam
spake, the first of men:
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poem by Caedmon
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Beowulf (Episode 02)
WENT he forth to find at fall of night
that haughty house, and heed wherever
the Ring-Danes, outrevelled, to rest had gone.
Found within it the atheling band
asleep after feasting and fearless of sorrow,
of human hardship. Unhallowed wight,
grim and greedy, he grasped betimes,
wrathful, reckless, from resting-places,
thirty of the thanes, and thence he rushed
fain of his fell spoil, faring homeward,
laden with slaughter, his lair to seek.
Then at the dawning, as day was breaking,
the might of Grendel to men was known;
then after wassail was wail uplifted,
loud moan in the morn. The mighty chief,
atheling excellent, unblithe sat,
labored in woe for the loss of his thanes,
when once had been traced the trail of the fiend,
spirit accurst: too cruel that sorrow,
too long, too loathsome. Not late the respite;
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poem by Anonymous Olde English
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