Eating Honey in the Rain - SCP Foundation

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Oh, how gentle the fruit is from the Moon's sweet carcass, as if harvested from the giant maw of a bee stung beast

Mandibles dripping wet with honeysuckle

Flung away, far off things, abandoned by the old men, who had watched by the sea shore - as the beast rose to height

Devouring the remains of the flesh to the sun

As the world men watched

Eating honey in the rain.

It was the end of sorrow. The end of lies. Haggard women walked through the deserted carriages shouting, Hath! Hath the emperor laughs! How could he have laughed!

The haggard carriagewomen saw in the half-light, the shadowed corpse of the grey woman; holding her palm up toward the black landscape. Her waist is strongly canted. Her forehead is wrinkled. It looks sullen. Its half-human, half-possessed, poisoned face – mouth half-ocean – has all of the features of the emperor's gun-man, shooting black-fire

On the day, as the nursewoman flee the carriage, laughing in the ashen soot, gunpowder and foggy day-light that came down from the country. Emperors don't admire themselves alone with mirror glass. They admire their troops! The bullets! The more war they enjoy, more that is fought- the more victories they win! The more astride their monstrous formed chariots, the more glorious their trumpets, hawking a victory! Oh, for the end of sorrow- wake the emperor up, and kiss the haggard carriagewomen. The haggard carriage wrench, gave to all Mary, and lord, reaped from a womb spilt with honey.

St. Mary clutches her breast, looking down at the blue azure sky, cerulean waves crashing upon her hazel eyes, golden cross, green fringes. Blue fishes, singing the soul of the Lord and god. Mary, her soul a' blaze with eggs of white

Another girl- Mildred, laying her dear, true and jest-like babes, across lost lost hair-worm's nest, singing to her

King, his soul a' lustre-reared to the altar

Floating in his swan's breast

Cried with bewailing and rambling fervour

Jesus, in his expression and name

He stands, for every eye, in every beholder,

For every face in all the world. He stands

And speaks, in eloquent eloquence

That most heavenly doctrine of peace,

That men's hearts should be moved

Says Mary, sweet of the soul

Upon the breast of Mildred rose

Bring new world

Into flesh above

Free from your jaw.

Oh, on the dreary days of blue leaves suckled by the tiger's great breasts, dropped with the soul of honeydew-laden coyote,

Only recalled to me the moving figure — the snow-blue wings, blue eyes. Here was the blades of the grass days

Let me look at the days of grassen-blue and so I can

Talk to you

Feel you

Hug you

Kiss the tiger's maw

Understand you

Cock-a crow, three times in the darkest hour

Singing our song-

As we sung, and danced and sing joy

Clouds of chlorine dioxide flood our lungs

Suffocatingly bright

But that pales in the moments we shared

Together

Right?

As I

Talks to you

Felt you

Hugged you

Kissed the tiger's maw

Understood you

Although I ask, that we could still be together, in health fair, breathing in days of grassen-blue dropped with the soul of honeydew-laden tiger's eye. Mary wept.

The war outside is raging and it is already lost. On to victory!

Yet you with steel guns and roses

Continue the losing fight

As if a thorn-covered beast

Stung with honey and lead

Will not come to the surface,

But still dies at night,

Like summer fires on ancient deserts

And in death, one will find the bullets

Dug out of the rosary-woman's temple

Crushed by the jaws of a great tiger in the heavens

And you will ask to fight again.

A traveler stops,

You've reached out to me

Haven't you

With the carcass of the moonlight

Falling snow into my soul

As the war rages

Across the papers, 'ruined streets of

Sarajevo',

The bomb in Myanmar

The clouds of aqauamarine haze under the disheveled roads of London

The triumphs over the war-men

To create after war

To forget and let old wounds heal

Let there be joy.

So

Join us.

Won't you

Or at least

Remember us.