Tag Archives: cruelty

Concrete

The righteous young woman, from that haughty sect

that sets themselves apart, dress the women in white robes,

stood their among the cluster of other women in her band,

long golden hair in a ponytail, staring me down with fire

filled grey eyes.

In the ether realm, in the realm beyond the sun and flesh,

she carries a sword all afire in honeyed flame, that she stole

for herself from a bored, disinterested angel more interested

in fucking human woman and shaking down the lonely

with false hope that he would fight for him.

She stares me down, cleansing hellfire in her grey eyes,

knowing me, knowing I am not so different, so good as

I have made them believe or dream I am, and I feel that

sword pierce my heart, and her hate, and it’s flames

burn right through me.

A smirk crosses her thin, pale and unadorned lips as she

leaves me behind, as her cohort of Christians crosses the

street as the light changes and I see the hunger to devour

all the lust and greed and cruelty, that living among her kind,

she knows all too well.

A month later, I would see on the news one Saturday morning,

as I was halfway to despair and elation from a sleepless night,

where Roxy and Sam spoke to me of things hidden in the air,

that she had taken a shotgun and killed all the men in her sect.

“God was away, and someone had to make them pay.”


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She Will Take Him To The Stars

She is young and beautiful, with child, LA sun.
The night is coming, dusky, starlight glow.
She is happy, at peace, they will be a family.
What’s coming for her, she doesn’t know.
She tells her child, she will take him to the stars.
That they are glittering angels up in the August air.
He kicks when she tells him, she laughs, caresses her belly.
No innocence, no tenderness, does this world spare.
The night is warm in the canyons, the hot winds still,
and she dreams as the starlight glitters in the pool.
The day was perfect, father will be coming from London.
I’m not sure if God in his Heaven is indifferent or cruel.
Too soon, too soon, she’ll be taken, stolen like the sky.
Father will be in London when it happens, not there.
A lower case angel, a child yet to be, butchered lambs.
She will be remembered, a pretty face, and golden hair.