Reindeer song and a mug of ale
Bred monsters in my wake
In a sea of trust dispersed
In the morning morbid and pale.
Frosty froth frozen in frost
Mist unveiled a veil it formed
Over judgement swift it prevailed
Into the pallid noon and lost.
Genie’s words and a dream unfurled
To a progeny from deluded fools
Masked in a cold embrace
Daylight upon a sour soil lay curdled.
Retribution of our ancestors’ follies
Echoing wails in our caves
Languid lives over skins dreamless
Upon a threnody scripted on poppies.
Dancing flakes, an opera primordial
Hymn sung in sombre tones
Blowing trumpets from an otherworld
Caravan moon and aurora cordial.
Trench song among men bold
Through marrows of blood and bone
Mother, child and father in despair
Cries of vengeance I withhold.
And a forest sheaths our grievance
Amidst waves of rustling acceptance
And the rain pours upon its foes
Like ragged beggars in throes
Farmers’ sickles outgrown their use
Flash of light, sharp abuse
And the flakes fell to ground
Like frozen tears of widows abound
And in the morning morbid and pale
Empty mug of ale, demise of a tale.
Ink Idle 
This is actually awesome. Just last night I ranted about how people make WordPress thinking they’re actual writers, but this is one of the posts which is so genuine, you’d like to set THIS as an example to those wannabes and see their worlds burn. (IF they’re literate enough to figure this out. Trust me, they might not be.)
Enough about them though. This is one refreshingly awesome post I’ve read in ages. I love dark poetry, but there’s very few people who do it right. And you’re one of those few people. Keep up the good work. Your influences show really well. You’ve earned a regular reader here.