Damned Souls
by RE Slater
I no longer see the world as it once appeared now that misery has come home and men appear more monsters [a'thirst] each other's blood.... And I, a miserable watching spectacle of wrecked humanity pitiable to others and intolerable to myself. - Mary Shelley, p.135
a treachery far too long suffered,
curdling the blood, quickening the
heart; a treachery so foul as only
betrayal may give; striking upon
the stirred soul a great darkness
within, grasping demented hearts
held insanity's pitiable hate,
gripping one's greatest fears amid
the pummeling swales of black
night befouling awakening souls
desperate redemption.
By each treachery no fey reconcile
is met, nor payment made, til'
foul depravity is rooted out,
pulled forth, burnt to ash, in the
stark wake of day's light beheld
the soul's befouling stenches -
not unlike mine own darkest
demons striding the wretched
watches of hot sulfuric fumes
lit day and night, twilight and
morn, upon broken heart.
Nor may cursed rest so bless
the dead's shriveled souls their
befoulment ridden the cruding
airs silenced heaving breasts
across benighted, lurid breaths
become stillbourne like the
startled bursting song of lark's
winged rise 'oer glowing fields;
so all is bestilled before the
gathering grievous storms on
the latter days fixed incestuous
word and treacherous deed.
Foul words and deeds composed
in monstrous affinity attached all
beating breasts clapped upon
waggling tongues unquit their
larcenous words, their fell acts,
seated like rotting corpses 'neath
fawning crowns abusing, ruining,
all innocents their livelihoods.
Nor may stand pious sanctuaries
upon altars sacred requiems citing
the burning remains of irreverence
to memory's fallen appointments
having engaged the living dead
that revelled one's shames and lust
like night's wicked tendriled paths
'neath bawdy god, or goddess,
whose woeful incense befouls
the nostrils and gleaming eye,
lost all hope or recompense,
where once in the depths of time
twining paths might loiter among
the straggling tares, the suffocating
weeds, till naught grew apace alone.
Such abiding treachery as these
ill reputes, like demons crawling
earth's terrestrial soils, unstopped
proud eyes, proud hearts, unfearing
nare God nor fated henchmen
bestriding the earth o'er rotting
hearts carrying no bliss nor heavenly
blessing, quit and free of haughty
imperious heaven's demands, but
bereft sole earthly paradise where
souls go to ruin without further
thought or moan or grief; having
abandoned selves to wicked world's
ways and cares, stricken divine
fellowship but only self love.
Damned souls armed hypocrisy's
best blames and curses, cloaking
the snarling miens of fallen men
in ruinous disappointment, falsely
bethinking what truly is required
is living well and happy for the day
with no thought on the morrow,
forsaking their fellow man be truly
well and happy as themselves.
Yea, crackles of lightning break
hot across deep night's lowing
thunders rumbling the deepening
pales and wooded bowers fixed
the sizzling atmospheres cowering
coming storm's reach and draw.
Herewith lie villainous sneers
of many a treacherous soul
beholding their ruined vanity,
bethinking themselves sculpted
Adonais or mighty Zeus, become
tragic Oedipus etched the weary
limestone halls of languorous
beauty; deigning any worthy
work but this life's fleshly offers
of chance atonement in fated
world long ago lost its fortunes.
Lost eons earlier in Adam's first
fall begun on a newborn day
filled with endearing promise
till all crashed by feeble hand
reaching understanding - but
not of wisdom, of self; as quickly
covering naked body in remorse,
not penitence; become broken,
unhealing souls always discontent
impotent at rejoining self with
self lulled wings of betrayal for
lost realms of glitter and gold.
R.E. Slater
July 21, 2024
edited July 25, 2024
@copyright R.E. Slater Publications
all rights reserved
