#12 SIN CHRONICLES | MY NIGHTMARE

This poem was birthed from another night battling sleep. I had a rough day yesterday and I couldn't post, comment or chat. Finally fixed the dumb phone in the evening. I tried to sleep but woke up by 12:30 to meet Shadowspub curation show on Steemit Ramble discord server still jamming. After typing my entry because my mic wasn't working, I sped to whaleshares server to listen to Freedomexist run his show. I met the show almost at the end. As Freedomexist was rounding up, I started writing. I got chatting with a beautiful charming damsel, and the post lingered until now. Well enjoy, if you can. I am going to sleep.

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_{Photo by Daniel Jensen on Unsplash.}

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MY NIGHTMARE

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Wait,
Did I tell you
That the world ended,
That the trumpet sounded,
And the promised saviour came?
Did I tell you that he was dressed
In blood and stank of rot and decay?
Did I tell you that he laid his hands
On the earth and stole her breath,
That he breathed on the living
And stole their life?
Did I tell you
That

He forgave the poor and blessed the rich,
Cursed the sinners and raised the saints?

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Who is
this beast,
That rises
the sea,
Dressed tears, stained with ashes and dust?
Who is this broken thing, fat with sacrifices
And incense,
Pumped
With prayers,
Flushed
With pain,
Roaring
With fire,
Gorged with flesh?

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Did I tell you
That the earth broke at his feet,
That he choked the wind,
And bowed the mountains,
That he raped the volcanoes
Of their sour breath
And fed the whirlpools with sand?
Did I tell you
Of the screams , the pleas,
The bees fleeing the hive;
A new swarm, a new plague ;
One of seven?

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Did I tell you of the promised saviour who came
In my dream, dressed in darkness, shodded
In bleeding feet, spewing curses at the empty horizon,
Calling for father, bringing thunder? I did not?
He came, the saviour, the beast and
He fed me flesh; The crushed throat
Of an unholy song.
He fed me blood;
The weeping wail
Of a broken chord.
He came,
My saviour,
My lord,
My god

_{But his salvation was pain,
His freedom was death.}

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©warpedpoetic, 2018.

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