"abbadon" poems
I know about lying on broken bones, beading into my back.
She was missing something.
She was lying on hands searching through the trench coat of a bathroom romance, watching butterflies melt,
She was becoming herself
At four thirty am I write her account, embroidered in a diary of lullabies,
“this is what death must feel like, being left alone in a street screaming of footsteps and blacked out whispering.”
She threw deliverance, caked over old vengeance, out of the car window with daybreak’s kisses. She writes,
“I sit in the heavy sleet of the delta drowning in resurrection, grime from age wipes over me once,
twice,
The broken blood pools out of ‘I love you’s’ and islets.”
She slept with the darkness.
“Prayers don’t come for me anymore.”
She glitters, shivers, tactless as a teacup in an earthquake,
She is awake.
”I am awake.”
She documents God- "I feel God,"
- in herself. "In myself.”
There is a silence.
A burning, left, cold to dry alone,
This is for her.
Call it, my face, swathed in the impenetrable darkness when it is no longer my own, call it an aunt’s love when a mother’s doesn’t suffice any longer. Call it,
cigarette buds and elevator rides to death’s door. Call it power bubbling up from the violation.
This is for you; call it Cuban cigars, show tunes, and Marylyn Monroe;
call it misery. Missing, call it hues and paint, my life prostrated on a disgruntled canvas. Call it fate.
This is for you.
Call it liquor stains and tarot cards in a fit of ecstasy. Epilepsy, call it the most intricate balancing act of existence.
An unseen performance, a lyric with no voice,
“a cry in the night”
”a scream of supplication”
The hunters’ march to death, the Holy Grail’s melting between your fingers, civilization pouring through veins,
“death, destruction, life, happiness, Azrael, Abbadon, blood, Rome!”
“I don’t want to feel this!”
Call it whispers of unspoken meetings and witches in the night, threatening,
“I know you!”
“No you don’t! Leave me alone.” Recognition. “I don’t want to listen…”
She writes,
“I loved you…
On purpose and…you left me,
with,
myself.”
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 8:57 PM UTC
The holy pages burnt slowly as it drew you closer into a darken rapture of sorts.
Ashes and soot crumbling from a wayward vessel, down into you, the sacrificial lamb.
You burnt the sacred pages. The fluttering flecks of a religion scattered around your scarred and bleeding feet. The enlightenment you sought was nothing but a false ploy; a world of innocents to crumble and deploy.
Balefully cries linger on the opening of trepidation. With the wingspan of purgatory, wrapped in nefarious black silk.
You!
You, virtuous martyr...
Abbadon's gate, with it's scaly arms, stands open and wide, deceitfully at the ready.
The question is; Are you willing to pay for your deceitful sins?
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 12:43 PM UTC
In Iserlohn so far away
But not so long ago
Not long enough to be forgot
By those of us who know
Now time has passed
And things have changed
The playing field's all level
The beaten child is all grown up
It's time to face the devil
For Abbadon is on the way
To give a Revelation
****** was a corporal too
Prepare for your damnation
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
They call me the Angel of the Pit,
Abbadon, the Bringer of the Dark.
About myself are few stories writ,
My true form no mortal can hark.
In this black abyss of pain I lie,
Torturing sinners left and right.
This hell is eternal, these sinners
Shall't die, here in this absence of light.
My domain, this pit, has no end,
Yet it is full of sinners whose flesh I
Must rend. Mankind's doom echoes off
The walls, and yet to this hell more and
More crawl.
With this abundance of souls I can't
Complain; It keeps a Demon busy!
But the sheer evil of man, well, it
Sometimes makes me dizzy!
Hell Hounds teeth gnash their flesh,
I erase their recollections' to keep the
Pain fresh. For their Crimes they must
Atone, it'd be a shame for me to be all
Alone.
And I'll wait for Your soul here, in my
Pit that has no bottom, for the evil of
Your society damns you, pity that you
dwell in a modern *****
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 11:01 PM UTC
Me beneath the zenith's sun
The light she gave to Abbadon
Shadows genuflect and none
Could bear the dark's dissatisfaction
But me,
Beneath the zenith's sun
Is life in God's light bastion.
Jun 8, 2019
Jun 8, 2019 at 3:29 PM UTC
They've sent me to the devil,
I've come to know his ways,
I've come to know the evil,
It's haunted my nights and days,
Though, is it truly his fault?
For what I have come to do,
This could all be for naught,
The things I've done to you,
I've pinned it on Abbadon,
Avoiding the guilt I feel,
The reason that you're gone,
A product of my free will,
There's no one but me to blame,
You're my candle, I've snuffed the flame.
Nov 2, 2019
Nov 2, 2019 at 1:59 AM UTC