Forgotten in a hell
begotten within the
confines of my own
depraved imagination

Will there be no end to
time spent wasting away
in the shadow of Babylon’s
polluted shore?

A poor, condemned wretch
wandering this wasteland
devoid of the prospect
of Heaven's divine
redemption.

I'm naught but a reflection
of the vanity I embraced
in a lifetime of dismal
remembrances.

The mercy of perdition's
flame would be a welcome
alternative to wandering
endlessly in this darkness
fashioned by my own
hand.

You left a stain on
every day of my
childhood
You soiled my spirit
with the blood of my
soul
Perhaps it will take
all the flames of
perdition to make
right what you did
to me but I doubt
you could burn long
enough for my anger
to be appeased
You made me
a victim, a hater
of a fellow human
being
I wished you dead
so often the angels
themselves could
not hope to fathom
the count
No, my hatred has
left me well beyond
the grace of Heaven's
golden realm

My consolation?

If I too must be
abandoned to
the eternal pit,
I will pray to
whatever god
may hear a
lament from
such a place
that I alone
be permitted
to stoke the
flames beneath
your fetid carcass
And even if God
on high chooses
to someday pardon
your unholy trespass
do not dare to smile...

I do not forgive so easily.

Some men live their lives
forcibly chained to a ball
of iron and curse God.
Others willingly chain
themselves to a cross
of gold and curse the
devil.

Odd sort of folk these
Christians...

Pull up a chair
and I’ll lie to you.
And I promise that
you won’t be sad
If I told you the truth
you would call me uncouth
and insinuate I might be mad

See, Oz is a wonderful wizard
While Santa Claus flies in a sleigh
In the Heavens above
there’s a God made of love
who will show you His magical
way

And a bunny delivers
the Easter eggs
And the tooth fairy
left you a dime
And Christ may have died
with a spear in His side
but he never changed water
to wine

So I notice that now
you are smiling
Then I guess that
my work here is
through
Believing the lies
is a good compromise
and so what if it’s
not really true

I wrote this with poetess extraordinaire Chick George (AKA Jenny). I have absolutely no experience writing sonnets and made a mess of it. She was kind enough to point out a mere 65 errors in my first attempt, making helpful suggestions and re-writing entire sections. If this deserves any praise at all, it is because of her tireless efforts to salvage my little disaster.
Thanks Jenny*


There once lived two midgets in ****** land
Who found a lass lying on a flat stone
Alone upon a beach. The grainy sand
Within their tiny shorts crept, yielding frowns
Of sorts that miniature faces command
And consternation's curses clearly read
On wee lips; eagerly they peeked at things
They'd only dreamt could be. Their visions fed
With silly notions that sometimes appear;
Oz's glory blinding ancient depraved kings.
The fire's wasted logs flaccid with despair
Left to time's inevitable decay
By nature's cruel wit unabashed, laying bare
Small-minded men seen close or far away.

Political ****** lining
their pockets with gold,
mined with the blood
of America’s youth
**** the world
and all who would
rule it!
Who asked you to ****
for liberty or cheap oil?
The spoils of war will
not buy you a reprieve
from perditions flame
or indeed a single extra
day in the world of the
living...
But then, what do you care?

You are dead already.

Someday I will think of you and smile...

But not today

Today I will miss you
Today I will walk in your garden
and you will not be there
And today I will sit alone by the
stream weaving words alone

But someday I will hear laughter
and think of you
And someday I will walk in my own
garden and you will be beside me
And someday my heart will be filled
with joy remembering the friendship
we shared...

But not today