The Evil Poem

The list of miseries I carry around in my bag of machination is a pyramid of verse, that is turned on it's side and starts with a word; ONE, and then balloons into a multi-headed beastly swine spewing blood & vine, a ghastly whats-it with empty soot cavity wanting of life force, wained and hollow, begging for a wooden leg or a scrap or two of tin as eye patches to cover bellicose eyes that exhilarate as they bogey, unsafe & hairy; Poised to whack before being walloped.

Consummate and wanting to beguile or to hypnotize with the regulation of the Scorpion sting at the end of it's linked tail. Accepting no petition from babes in woods, turning deaf ears to wails, howls or bellows.

This beast is my beast, no headmaster, organic barnyard usher, constabulary or necromancer can pattern this feeble muscle, just a spasm really, of godawful evil vile and odious as a Apple soaked in poison, compassionless, premedicated purple haze of death without glimmer, ruby red la cocktail of cyanide, bitter, dry in taste.

In `19th Century, Rome, a Gypsy girl brushed her lips upon my ogre and the horrid thing ripped out the poor child's tongue while munching on her pinkies like twisty crisps.

Paris, Marrakech, Rome, Elise, St. Petersburg or Los Angeles. What might look like a plum or marshmallow

to the unknowing, is my soul, 100% past the rays of God's own glory & redemption.

I am Lucifer unchained, who can fly like Superman through astral spaces from century to century. No wall, barrier, bulkhead, or mother's love, no hexes of Puritans, wooden crucifixes, prayers or black books will stop the evil I will do on your village and family.

I was the Nazi Doctor dissecting twins, I was the Japanese Soldier torturing and raping Peking.

I was the force that pushed your car over, as you plunged to your death, in the Sea on a drunken spree.

I was the Pirate Ship that took your yacht for all it's value and defiled your family and love ones.

I am the living embodiment of all things depraved & nefarious that flies like the spirt vulture and hunts your soul.

I beg of you not to look at me, I will cut your throat before you can flicker, so be forewarned and fly like a Butterfly, fly, North, South or West, fly away from the locus and fector of my heinious and unforgiving fire.