The Keeper of the Dungeon [Opiel: The Gatekeeper] A Poem
The Dark, damp, deep dungeons (Underneath the castle grounds) Where freedom has no sunlight This dark palace, Is where the cadaverous dungeon keeper resides? Where death filters its way into, this dungeon's stonewalls: Here, upon your arrival, hate--with mortar mixed tortures Fester about; infinite, horrid decaying bones separated from flesh Paralyzed human spirits--live...
(the Keeper's clientele) Live in a lifetime of hideous silence.
Here, all cease to speak, blinded and stripped Raiment's, just muffled echoes-- In these Dark, damp, deep dungeons (Underneath the castle grounds) Where freedom has no sunlight Where death filters its way into this dungeon's stonewalls.
Here all will forget ones original name, after time And all carry their own chains [no crosses allowed]: Contemplate propositions once made--now too late.
It was this demonic beast, Opiel: keeper of the dungeon (Once keeper of Hell's gates) That broke the silence seized the arms of each human being Grabbed some by the nostrils Dragged them disquietingly Across the stone floors, in utter darkness; In silence, darkness, solitude, who could stop him? Motionless they all stood...
! "You are all my guests," he laughed His echo was like a pack of rats.
(No future, only madness.
) Dungeon walls speak: blank, dark secrets: They have unconquerable spirits, Impending footsteps, no fatigue, Cold and slimy bodies; these walls have feet, Instinctively they groan, wiggle about, As if their thighs are blinking eyes They do not know defeat! One guest once told me: They thought it was a dream But when they awoke, it was reality! "Ghosts have their dungeons of madness also...
" (I quote: the keeper of the gates); Some are let loose to created havoc Others like reptiles, sleep in these dark dungeons Night after night after night; so says the Keeper: "Revenge is my birthright.
" #1370 6/14/06 Written at EP-Lima, Peru
(the Keeper's clientele) Live in a lifetime of hideous silence.
Here, all cease to speak, blinded and stripped Raiment's, just muffled echoes-- In these Dark, damp, deep dungeons (Underneath the castle grounds) Where freedom has no sunlight Where death filters its way into this dungeon's stonewalls.
Here all will forget ones original name, after time And all carry their own chains [no crosses allowed]: Contemplate propositions once made--now too late.
It was this demonic beast, Opiel: keeper of the dungeon (Once keeper of Hell's gates) That broke the silence seized the arms of each human being Grabbed some by the nostrils Dragged them disquietingly Across the stone floors, in utter darkness; In silence, darkness, solitude, who could stop him? Motionless they all stood...
! "You are all my guests," he laughed His echo was like a pack of rats.
(No future, only madness.
) Dungeon walls speak: blank, dark secrets: They have unconquerable spirits, Impending footsteps, no fatigue, Cold and slimy bodies; these walls have feet, Instinctively they groan, wiggle about, As if their thighs are blinking eyes They do not know defeat! One guest once told me: They thought it was a dream But when they awoke, it was reality! "Ghosts have their dungeons of madness also...
" (I quote: the keeper of the gates); Some are let loose to created havoc Others like reptiles, sleep in these dark dungeons Night after night after night; so says the Keeper: "Revenge is my birthright.
" #1370 6/14/06 Written at EP-Lima, Peru
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