Wednesday, 24 August 2016

The devil may care.

He perched upon his great, grand throne
Of finest tooth and whitest bone
A fork of fire by his side
His clothes cut from rich sinners’ hides
And fanned the flames in the fiery pit
That warmed his feet whilst he did sit
And think about that bygone age
When those above still feared his rage

His blood did boil, his rage did swell
As he sat on his throne in his Kingdom of Hell
Like ageing porcelain, weathered and cracked
Veins lined his face with blood that was black
Then, all at once, he shouted a curse
So wicked it made even this damned place worse
He gnashed and thrashed and screamed and did shout
Then grabbed his fork, got up and went out

Time it was to have some fun
To wreak some havoc, rain fire upon
Those weak, soft bags of flesh filled with blood
To bring forth great suffering as only he could
He stamped his cloven feet and did call
For every creature that slithered or crawled
To do his bidding, spread forth his black seed
To undertake the darkest of deeds

He stood atop a lush hill and surveyed
The land he had chosen to bring first to dark days
A land that when last he’d walked on this Earth
Had been filled with happiness, joy and great mirth
He summoned forth legions of beasts from below
And considered how best to open his show
Pestilence, plague, brimstone or famine?
He smiled and set off for a night filled with damning

But wait, what was this? This couldn’t be right
Spread all around him, a pitiful sight
Men who had once stood proud and stood strong
Men who had fought and overcome wrong
Now brought to their knees, beaten and weak
Where once had stood heroes knelt only the meek
He searched high and low throughout that dark night
But hard as he tried found no good souls to blight

Old folk now dying, alone in cold beds
Good folk now used to remaining unfed
Sickness and poverty spread far and wide
Fear and hatred where once had lived pride
Filth in the streets and fear in sad eyes
A race of proud people now beaten by lies
Nick turned to his minions and sighed in despair
“We’re out of our league, lads, let’s go back downstairs”


No comments:

Post a Comment