Soulless Hunter (Dean Bolger)

Hey do you guys want to go insane inside insanity into trips of darkness, into the red hour dripping eternal blood. Do you want to understand beggar’s belief, do you want to listen to the sad songs and be awoken inside nightmares of chaos by whispering trees that dress the dawn to capture the light to live the dream.



The scattered remains of death poetry lifting long dark  veils inside realms of falling nightfall silencing optimism leaving blankets of darkness across shoulders of saints. For the sake of sanity let the poets out of their cages and let the people cry. People are dumb and I am dumb. People fill streets and empty hearts, people cast shadows in dark halls, I’ve heard their silly notions, now do you want to hear about faith? Faith isn’t going to save you, Faith is a broken shoelace fed through tubes to warm our decaying existence, while martyrs on horseback fed by green envy trample upon swords.

The isolated dreams of Shepard’s lie in sandy time with the waves of delight spewing mother’s milk evoking memories of flowery wilderness breathing fire and roses under intoxication of the hallucinogenic gutters. Baptised under purple ceremony by self-ordained madman of paradise alley who get obscene on fairy tales echoed in mirrors leaving nothing but the reflection of time. 

Oh you soulless hunters of grief with feathered arrow go thou and be set alight under naked flame. Let me be. Keep your deaf remarks for the cooling furnace of conformity, for I am here to dance and save your smile, I am here to undress silhouettes under milky sky, for I am the great reincarnation of the deadly divine. So go fourth and sing your song under blankets of blood and hang thou who shall not interpret secret languages of the heart, and I finish my poem inside the waking nightmares of resident chains of mockery who disembowel truths in senseless wonder and fall from perilous towers in endless time and finish it I will. From start to finish, from drainpipes of crystalized fear, I’ll stone the masses with catapults of worship while ashes of skeletons roam free desiring cathedral meat of innocence. Their death clings to ankles of angels under lead balloons leaving me lost in turmoil endangering my beautiful thoughts from the wretch of the bowery slums. 

Oh soulless hunter with your earache eyes and crown of poison ivy we could have been blood brothers bathing in bathtubs listening to the nightmares through the wall. Things could have been different in this big bang existence. You could of fell from darkness to light in pearly wisdom you could have been a shooting star who graced the earth and humanity with your falling. For the love of God you could of expanded souls with nothing but your own surviving beauty in rivers mirror, but I guess you were happy in the mud man trenches with 9pm fast approaching and no street light to light the way for your clicking heels and black teeth. 

Go cleanse yourself of your wrong doing with your silver servants and disappear forever under songs of rainbows and I’ll bid you farewell from the clock tower of heaven and hell in awoke hysterical consciousness and see you no more. , and now that it’s over, a deafening silence hung around the knees of villages like silent thunder and the heavenly glow of existence blinds my sight.


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