Free verse № 119188
Satan's Pillar: The Wisdom of Heresy.
The mumbles of the wretched man asks
"Where is my tranquil repose among the ruins of life?"
"Why must it end like this?"
Silence follows, quivers add emphasis
as they run up his bent spine.
Darkness answers.
"Fool, it lies beneath you and your righteous arms, hands cupped
in the manner of a beggar. The weak may never become whole.
They exist merely to serve."
Dispirited, the pious one erupts in tears,
grimaces in fear and anger, feeling deceived.
"I have lived a moral and good life, have harmed no one,
obeyed the law, served my country, and never dared to question
the wisdom of my superiors! I am owed a place in paradise!"
Death laughs.
"You had no courage, no spine, no impulse that drove you to take
what was yours. You accepted the rhetoric, that you were lacking,
so then you renounced your will. Life owes you nothing,
and neither do I, coward."
Enraged the humble peasant cried
"I have resisted the temptations of the devil,
and this is how you repay me?"
Satan snickers.
"You, a slave, were so consumed by fear and awe, that you were unwilling to comprehend fully the meaning of "Being created in his image."
and rejected the glory of embracing the truth.
So wither as should a servant-- may your ashes fade to dust."
Whimpering, the weakling felt the cold embrace of silence
and the stillness of death, accepting his chosen fate.
He lay rotting, decayed, freed from purgatory,
left at the gate of oblivion.
25 comments
and finally, (*whooo*) RETARD.
Maybe that'll give you more variety when feeling the urge to say "your stupid" in an intentionally "baffling" way so as to allow your victim to offer emphasis to your sentiments.
Wally? You fuckin homo.
What a parpingly excellent sentence!
You fuckin wilted boob.
When I had my second brain surery. I felt like some of the verses in this poem, that's why I wrote the poem can't fight no more -10-
spank my ass, stop kissing it.
Or atleast get down, dirty 'n constructive. Throw me a freakin bone here man. Ten has lost its almighty value due to an efflusion of counterfeit. (curse my verbosity cane...)
It's pitiful when you get tens for something you wrote which you yourself can not rate higher than eight. Feels like folks are proffering gifts of peace to curb my wicked mood swings from belittling their posts.
I think I'm due for a general public ranker flogging...
Darkie keeping vigilance with his embrowned maturity harness queers the otherwise benefitial by-product of the whole ordeal.
Only Darkie gets the occasional single senseless zero from me when I can't contain the loathing, but he's my lifelong nemesis, and theres no room for another.
In case my last comment was mistaken for sarcasm, it was sincere.
A fool uttereth all his mind.
A fool's voice is known by multitude of words.
Seest thou a man that is hasty in his words.
There is more hope of a fool than him.
THE WORDS OF GOD
THE WORDS OF SUPREME DREAMER.
Now this can be substantiated, in a heart beat.
The second verse (lines 2 & 3) doesn’t hold ginger ale because when a pious person comes to death, he seldom says that, but rather glorifies God.
After that dismal beginning, it improves. The statements to the dead man are poignant, if futile, since he’s dead.
Wait a minute, he’s alive again in the “dispirited” verse. You must mean in the afterlife. Whatever, that aggravates your cause, don’t you think? Presuming an afterlife?
So here is the pious man arguing, presumably with Peter or some such Golden Gate Keeper, justifying his righteous life. But then it’s Death that laughs, so the whole thing is getting ethereal and weird.
The argument continues, but it seems futile. The man is already dead and in no position to change anything.
Other than that, it’s a fine fight.
Ask noted and modified in my carbon copy mam.. I need to be more vigilant with the idea of reciting my shit outloud to myself so I can better pick up on them lil ticks.
Pious describes how he lived his life, which makes his sudden impudence more "from the left field". Or rather that was my intention, then again it's also a question of how one believes faith is expressed.
Now let me clarify something else, the guy isn't dead when these forces speak to him, which they bother to do because he's in the end-finale of dying, and he's unveiling the suspicions that have been kept in the far corner of his unconscious, in the ole closet of fear.
Essentially, these forces or spirits are in actuality born from him alone, the guy who he kept buried away in shame.
Also, no afterlife is presumed, but rather that he becomes void within the embrace of oblivion since he lived a life that left him spiritually, psychologically, and emotionaly unfulfilled.
It's not a reverent one whimpering before god, but his own unrealized dreams.
Maybe the religious speech or description detracts from all that, maybe I got too hopped up on the heretical "what lies behind the door which is forbidden by default" concept.
Does this crystallizes the picture? Any essential throw offs which you'd like to mention with how I executed the intended context, etc.?
It's Xtian bullshit.
Oh, right. You would.
He probably just takes issue with people's bumbling notions about God, like everybody does from time to time. So you're basically just failing to make the same distinction you accused me of failing to make on your poem "Psalm of Wonder". And, incidentally, showing the same lack of comprehension which haunts pretty much all of your God poems. Want to criticize people? Go right ahead! Want to criticize God? You'd do better shoving fiery coals up your snoot right now and saving yourself a wait. And besides, everyone knows God just trumps at all criticism.
I'm not saying I could trump you or anything, I've just been under the impression that most people on deathbeds are unconscious, drug-addled, and rather bad-smelling. If you've been reading one of these as religious inclination, please let me know.
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zodiac
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