Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

    No one could really tell how it is that we blend in so well. But for those of us who must retreat again to our shell, we feel as trapped as a bat in hell. No way out: no water can we find, though the fiery waves do swell, back then to the front of our mind, we cannot return to a time much better; no matter what we do to change this, we still cannot rewind. Back and forth we do float, in between Earthly dimensions so free: only to be forced back into wailing feces where He Who stands in defense of thee. Not just you; not just me: billions of us does He see. 
    Encouraging all in upward directions, still we remain tainted by darkened reflections. Ever trapped in hell are we, frightened with orders enforced that are  believed to be the key, still vented out like smoke signals used to perform a divine spell. In and out flowing, none can truly tell just where the coveted air is going. What belongs to He Who belongs to us too, like Earth's oceanic water so blue. My words I hope do send the cue, relaying the message that all pain is left for us- the guilty- to be dealt with as the Master doth imbue. He Who flies in at the speed of time to cleanse my soul of filth and grime. Filling up His gills so black, He Alone remains our air sac.
   I fold in my wings adark, touching them to my breath aspark. My heart is lightened, brightened and filled, when suddenly voices around me milled. Alone I release ancient orders produced through singing, my being aloof though bees surround me stinging. No time nor space moves me along, as none shall be able to hear such praising in private song. I cannot contain this; I can hold in my voice no longer. I imagine I'm in charge, and my voice temporarily becomes stronger. Letting out my praise to all for He Who blocks me from hell's fall, I revert into my shouting stall where words melodic precede sounds of raw, eccentric beauty. 
     Putting us each into our deserved place, He Who loves me now speaks to everyone belonging to the human race: "Now, all will stay in perpetual peace,"  when all at once, the peace is broken, left shattered, as if peace never truly mattered. Swooping to join in this fest, I, the praising Private, do sing, leaving those tasks- once meant for me- unto others without fee. Left they are collecting prayers, still rejecting He Who stares. In this way made unawares, into the ocean of darkest black do I toss many back, leaving upon the water shining concentric rings in fodder. 
    A dismembered flame shrinks into a fiery-embered chaotic lick. In the distance a sound suddenly sways, moving in tempered melodic sureties. All that can be heard is the measured "tick-tock, tick-tock" coming from the clock, a reminder unto all that neither space nor time in hell need have any reason or any rhyme. Before I can speak, my body from His presence is made quite weak. Sudden silence quickly saturates the once peaceful and stationary motion-rate. Being the signal to exit, He Who then leaves us to our eternal fate: absent of companions, yearning for our mate. Hungry no longer, we are made to indulge and eat our deserved dish. Anything but sweet, our destiny now we meet, as we must face and feast: consuming every ill-fated wish. Led directly into the center of the hall, bitter black-red blood clings to us all like mud. Into our lies we are sliced and spread, tossed and torn, like butter on hot bread. Straight through hell, into the chaos of choices made selfishly, it remains that, in making our own bed, we must eventually in it lay, surrounded by draculain designs of macramme. When the feast is finalized, straight back into the oily black of Hell's ocean we our souls do jeopardize. Shys and cries, nighs and tides: bitter to the bite be the bonefood from hell's ocean rides.