CAMELOT FANTASIES

POETS OV THE HAUNTED

Haunted poets ov the past, with words that will last.
Words from within, are from different times.
Visual to surpass, these words ov my rhymes.
With these words that I cast, with admiration ov Poe.
Darkness bestows, the calling of my soul.
Across the cobblestones, grooved with the blood ov Poe.
Many a soul taken, with words betroved to the page.
Death went thru, the streets with rage.
A poet ov his time, death and blood caressed your mind.
Visual, words play with mankind.
Devouring is a mind,a sponge to conceive.
Haunted alleys ov the bleak, casting feelings ov those, on killing streaks.
Souls permeating, out of the stone.
Dark each step, that I retrieve.
Just like fathom feet, feelings that I do prep.
Often like I kept, on the ground I do not seat.
Thru out the words, that I ink.
Souls do speak.