The Little Godlings
Glittered men contrive to hide
their greedy sin down deep inside
a river blue with surface skimmed
by whispers of dead seraphim.
Yet in the end a chance mistake
caused earth to rend and sky to break
immortal steel resounded high
as desperate angels raced to fly.
Their line soon broke, their vanguard lost
and sin spilled forth, towards deadly cost
to all those pure who'd kept their faith
until they too became sin bathed.
The storm blew death and left behind
a wasteland harsh and without time
and all this sprung from planted seed
of glittered men and costly greed.
Frustration hid from prying eyes
I turned my back to all the cries
The taunts that crimson dyed my cheek
Drained my will and made me weak
So back I went to make amends
With God and tie up all loose ends
For where I felt my mind belong
Cared not for those who’d done me wrong
Emboldened now I took the knife
That was to end a wasted life
so lacking joy and in defeat
My final acts let loose red heat
The deed was done and as I rose
I looked back at discarded clothes
As I grew cold I saw at last
The beauty in that disowned cask
I glimpsed just once a glowing slate
And saw my name obliterate
And faceless thus, with nothing left
I wept for sins I'd done in death
Pariah the Damned
Pariah bathed in mountain streams,
left Mother Earth to keep her clean,
and thusly lived untouched and true,
desiring naught but what she knew.
Eventually the wood men came,
who shattered Gaia with their name,
and with their tools gutted the mount,
on which they Pariah found.
She trusted them and gave them food,
from private stock she had accrued,
they ate it quick and wanted more,
but larder gone, they locked the door.
Pariah blocked what happened next,
for she was frightened and perplexed
but she learned then how mortal sin,
had conquered whole the race of men.
No longer pure, Pariah died,
from shame and hurt man left inside,
the wood men left remembering not,
the whore they’d used and then forgot.
absorb the light,
cast forth an inverse sun.
repel the ghost,
that stalks the ones who run.
for holy three,
forever seek to claim,
Their mortal cage,
lost in their rage,
at man's initial shame.
dire shade hellbent,
encrusted with dark's thorns.
For Heaven's sway,
wavered the day,
that all shadows were born.
Gabriel spoke, Messiah born,
Lucifer broke, in dam'ned scorn,
Angels both, like wings adorn,
Heaven's host, asunder torn.
Poison bred, from anger spent,
Dark one led, with dire intent,
Angels blight, their halo's taint,
Against a right, triumphant saint.
Siege condemned, black general turned,
To race of men, who quickly learned,
How serpents lure, in guise of right,
And tempt the pure, towards fallen night.
Continued thus, the battle waged,
Sides erroneous, of unsure gauge,
True war had broke, with man the spoils,
The white one stoked, began his toils.
Eternal war, with no outcome,
Deserved a score, to beaten drum,
Which told the tale, with naught exempt,
Of how man failed, and was redempt.
Oh broken wing, I curse the day,
I felt the sting of childish play.
For play has oft caused young to cry,
and now defies my wing to fly.
The geese are gone, I fly too late,
childrens brawn I've grown to hate.
I've lost my way and lost my host,
but children may soon suffer most.
For though they've foiled my southern trek,
this beak is whole and still may peck.
And peck it will, till cotton ties,
surround the childrens sightless eyes.