Saturday, August 30, 2008


He was a man
Who waylaid
The weathered steps
Of the staircase
Winding down to hell.
He was a man
So very shriveled,
He looked long judged
And proven chaste.
He was a man of Age.
He hummed a little,
Before crying again
He lay splayed
With his vessel
That jarred to jingle
With rusted coins
And finally disappeared
One day soon.
But cling he did
To his place there
Through the dawn
And night after.
Nobody knew when
Last he breathed.
He was a man
But a man long dead.

An obituary rested
On that weathered step,
As a non-existent,
Reverent absence.
And the concave silence
Of the voices that claim
Their blessings that he
May rest in peace.
But who needed them
His life would say…
The life that never
Asked for much.
He had been tested
And proven chaste,
So god bestowed
Him with the taste
Of the hell in life
As a life in hell…
So he may never lose
His way after death…

In the sad way angels
End up in hell.
In the unknown way
They deprive men
Of a taste of heaven.
And in the same game
Angels recruit men for hell.

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