Black Poetry : Torn

[Mario William vitale]

In a torn branch that was withered in the wind

A silence errodes its beckoning call
With a silver dollar tossed in a pool
It often pays to stay focused then to lose your cool
The one that has no faith in God will lose

Ronnie James Dio was the first ever to address the rule

For his was the rule of the game,
In shattered lines which wound & bind
The child listens & cry's;
In swift desolation through its pain,

In ardent briars close to insane;

With cloves of wretched stench in sulfur;
As a bruised reed amidst the closet below its altar
A deadly fix on the social mainstream headlong;
Heavy metal with twisted leather chains in pain,

An ambiance of shelter amidst the cry

To fall headlong then to believe it's ultimate lie;
Faces in the window with storms in the night,
Having fallen face down in viscous fangs that bite,
Often dripping blood off side;

So easy to run away & hide in the night,
Within a heavy metal pull ravaged plunder;
In full view of havoc proned in misery,
That balance of some equestrian melody;

With torn pages turned on a new episode,

Through a whole host of vile intention;
In mere stark brilliance from the setting sun
Amidst certain periods of social demise;
A short fuse in reluctant quest,

Within a chosen vessel to enter the rest;

With chosen words spoken in the dark,
Has now come into the fullness of light
To stand up and shout amidst the pain
Shattered dreams amidst the pain

Amidst the painted glass;

Hallways filled no one gets by on any free pass
Faces in the window storms in the night;
A laborer is intended to enter into its rest,
From some quaint chosen vest,

Faces in the window with storms in the night,
Heavy metal in the center of its scattered plight
The voice of reason is our successful right!
In this life never give up on the fight,

Keep your promises with your heart fixed right,
We live in a world that is strange,
They will take advantage & then rearrange!