I, Avenger

I, Avenger

Play not thy wanton lyre my friend

for you cannot pluck the strings of evil

and make music.

You can pretend to be a charitable soul

and sing sweet songs to charm

birds from trees;

but forget not, I have your measure

and I will come for you.

I will strike the blackest sins from this earth

when I pluck your heart out

and freeze the life from it

with ice fire of Angel’s breath.

Then cast your stinking carcass

into the very pit of Hell

to rot amongst the decaying detritus

of Satan’s putrid souls.

 

05/02/14

Reviews

[Rhayne]

You are brilliant with words. My first thought was----there is a God.

[K.N. Lorenzen]

Almost as creepy as "Revelations" ;) Very evocative and violent.
Well done!

K.

[Archangel Gabriel]

Thanks K N

[Great Aunt Astri]

WOW. Such power in this poem! Lovely image .. ice from angels breath! Well done for writing this poem

[Archangel Gabriel]

The power of thought is strong. We writers are able to dissect, decapitate and love all at the stroke of the pen. Many thanks Great Aunt.

[Great Aunt Astri]

YES. When you come to think about it we are really pretty amazing.