This is a new style for me. Please comment and give me any tips you think would help me improve. Its a revision of something I wrote in 12th grade but the original was a disaster. Its supposed to be two voices speaking against eachother and I’m not great at pulling off a modern voice, I’m kindof old-school when it comes to poetry.


All the world is bound in black. Shrouded be the road both forward and back. We stumble on through life with hearts so sore and conscience alack.

Whither hence be the olden ways of love and earth? Where be the gentle priest who speaks not of wealth and wrath but preaches the way of the dove?


That fucker went off over there, he’s buying a new whip and styling his hair and diddling all the congregants fair.


Where be now the wise wizard to light the lantern way? His light that warded all from all the darksome hell and decay as demon and devil before his will were slain.


The tramp’s up there on the corner, drinking from a paper bag. His staff got rotten and his book he pawned for weed. See the bits of gum and food there in his beard? 


Where be gentle beauteous maiden, who loves but once and loves so true?


She’s in the bushes opening her legs dude, you know she’s charging cheap don’t you?


Whither the knight with shining sword and armour upon his glorious steed, to whom all honour may be trusted?


The horse is glue man, the sword and tin suit got rusted through and busted.


Wither now the Christian God with his commandments set in stone astute?


No idea bro, he got retired, fool’s been put on mute.


Black before and shadow far ahead and behind. Can we once more the true way find? Elder Grove or Christian Church, to find again what in life is truly of worth.


Quit your bitching asshole, the world works and it’s mostly whole. Everything may be black but have you seen how well the kids can hack?


Keep your council silly fiend. The land endures even unto when from thy alchemical toys thou at last come to be weaned. 

This my final word, I speak now from the heart, let rest the troubles of today and look again unto the start. When love was all and the land us as her children bore. May we afore the rubicon remember and return to her once more.


Yea dude, fuck you too


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Jacko Steenekamp

To sum myself up is simple. I'm weird.

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