Here is a poem I wrote for a friend of mine here at DR . A bit of a departure for me, I hope you enjoy !
Devil's Plaything
Dark brothel beckons silently, within the old French Quarter---'twas there so many years ago, there that I thought...to court her. Her eyes ablaze from absinthe, young lovely body swaying---caring not what patrons claimed, never heeding what they were saying. My heart took flight within my breast, each time I caught a glance---of my dark compelling plaything, each time I stood entranced. Losing moments to love's opium, such a drug she proved to be---my soul cried out for sweet release, she was everything to me.
Those days they seldom visit me, fevered imaginings from the past---I remember still that evening, the night I saw her last. Adorned in silk so lustrous, perfume echoing in my head---my rival vanquished at my feet, I knew then...that he was dead. Wielding scarlet claws she came at me, spitting venom in my face---Devil's Plaything...mine no longer...screaming, my affections were misplaced. I trapped her arms behind her, whispered frantically in her ear---told her we could be so happy, begged her not to disappear.
Many years now since I've seen her, since I thought to win her heart... Now all my fading memories center...around watching her depart.
Here is one I just finished---I anxiously await your opinion!!
Song Of Moloch
At the head of forty legions, feral eyes glance all about---spreading leathery wings to cool them, listening for the sentinel’s shout. Sulphurous odor doth proclaim him, tramp of hoof and heel denote---coming of this cold pale rider, oaths erupt from every throat. Unobserved in countless ages, dwelling in the bowels of hell---restless in his cruel confinement, no one still alive to tell… Of countless brutal cruel excesses, when last he roamed at will---infernal power never greater, foul stinking destiny to fulfill.
Distant shrieking from the sentinel, heralds arrival at the wall---ancient bastion lately weakened, whispering pathetic angels’ call… Striding forward as power fills him, groaning earth protests---such creatures as are found around him, fall senseless in their distress. Grunts escape defending angels, his presence is discerned---sickened looks upon their faces, this ancient one totally unconcerned. Runes casually written upon the air, timeless barrier is shaken---rotting dead within their graves, scream allegiance to this abomination.
Blinding light it emanates, from daemon’s outstretched hand---spelling death and desolation, across this promised land. Terror chases disbelief, across angelic faces---only death and desecration, to be found in daemon’s fell embraces. Solomon’s temple in disarray, lost corner-stone now reclaimed---forbidding wall is broken asunder, remaining angels horribly maimed. Subtle change is clearly felt, Moloch demands his due---as long ago was written, he demands your very soul from you.
Michael’s ring so carefully forged, bearing heaven’s hateful seal--- Found amongst the carnage, now destroyed beneath the daemon’s heel.
When a demon named Ornias harasses a young lad (who is favorite of Solomon) by stealing half his pay and sucking out his vitality through the lad's thumb, Solomon prays in the temple and receives from the archangel Michael a ring with a seal on it which will enable him to command the demons.....
Buried at PhotoCasket
