When God Looketh Away

Death has many facets.  The garnets that

sleep in those open wounds in torn flesh bleed

the preciousness of life, abandoning

these breathless, cooling bodies as they writhe.

Their deadened eyes turn to heaven still and

beg in all their damnation for that bless’d

relief,  but the Heavens are deaf to the

crippled cries of those destroyed in Hell’s name.

Let it be hell – one small mercy; those wretch’d

creatures could be of no other origin.

The babies scream for their mothers not yet

home from where they search the burnt battlefield

for that crimson carcass they might once more

call their lover.

Corpse f_ckers.

Corpse lovers -

there is nothing else left now.  The remnants

of our darkened bloodied past must press back

together the hours of tomorrow’s night;

day is gone now, the light is burned up or

bottled for blistering Deaths.  There is flame death,

believe – it melts your skin and makes steam

from water; if only those flames could reach

our hearts so that we might claw ourselves up -

sothatImayclawattheirfleshandeyes

sothatImayclawbackourchildren’slives

- and right these wrongs.  But a mother holds close

the tattered remnants of her baby’s stained

blankets and weeps this loss of innocence;

yesterday she did kiss her lover’s lips as

he left to fight the evils, today she

tastes the blood on her tongue as she buries

together the broken bodies of child

and father, united in death.  She, poor

wretched lady, is cruelly left alone,

forgotten by those who tore her apart.

In rage she cries to the heavens, but too

bitter with grief is she to seek revenge,

and so the defeat drags on.  And we scream

For thine is the Kingdom,

- The blackened bones and glory -

Forever and ever,

Amen.

...Our men.