Really interesting and thought out poem.
Ｔｈｅ ｔｏｎｇｕｅｓ ｏｆ ｈｅｌｌ
Impure, dull fat Chthonic who wheezes
at hell’s gate. Incapable
of licking a soul clean- that indelible smell.
Hatred, the low smoke of Patroclus
haunting a body- like Cerberus
choking the aged and the meek.
The hothouse greases their bodies like
bomb ash, radiation turns
white- their skin grows heavy as a
Lecher’s kiss. Dark as a lantern flickering
on, off, on off.
God’s head is a moon searching for bodies.
He plays down the pardon for the bearded
apple garden; good and evil
grow on trees. White and black beasts
Paler than the cross. They were once living,
now dead crying in hell.
Satin’s sullen face like a mudcracked church;
He fiddles a hymnal with his long black hair.
The steeple bells are like empty
wells for lost souls- they cleave in the clapper;
The priests crouch, humped in silence. Jesus
surrenders to their obituaries.
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