The Venom Of God Poem by Patti Masterman

Lion-faced warrior, fresh from Mars:
Accuser, seducer, destroyer of worlds
Soulless, they called the offspring of Sophia-
But never you; of the diamond, ruby, and jasper encircled
Five-pointed, blood red star
High on belladonna, and drunk on poppy
Spotting the moon with your own brand of corruption
Wrapping them up in leather and chains
Probing with your white hot, wolfish intelligence
Fire your element, O costumed angel of apocalyptic doomsday
Wearing the animal form with saturnine confidence
Solitary ways; your real religion.
I copied your picture to dissect out the eyes
I was searching there for something, but for what?
Such elegant windows, of a different colored soul
They look so young; yet there's a wary predator,
Lurking in the background behind your image
Such an arresting mixture of irreverence and warmth
I think you must be a misplaced Knight
Tossed into the post-chivalrous world
And you would rip your own self apart
Being that you are the true instigator,
Heretic, and rebel, against the deadly boredom
Killing your countrymen, by a slow, lengthly exsanguination-
I know that you would prefer a more violent death,
A quicker one, than the inconsequential rot
That steals days away, one by one.
What is that amulet you wear-
Somehow it seems to be the key;
The not so hidden answer, to the cryptogram that's you.
You've been fighting on more than one side, you know:
You're too bright to see only one side of truth;
Holding on to that driving force which is distinctive
To each man alone, and which belongs solely to him.
It must be tiresome at times, still hoisting that banner;
Setting yourself against the unquestioned totems of authority
But then, you never needed a red and blue superhero suit
To accomplish your particular brand of magic, anyway.