Tir Last

Rookie - 2 Points (United States of America)

Miserére Nos Dominus - Poem by Tir Last

The weary sun this day does not rise
as the earth is rent in two
by a booming blare spawned from a sickly horn.
Ragged hands wrapped in beads of Rosary
scrape their way up the fleshy opening.

A man near the opened earth,
to no religion does he ascribe,
who days ago did laugh merrily when he
heard hoary stranger yell,
'Beware fell beings, thy day cometh soon'
Now stares, eyes wide affright as
beings with horns curved and red
crawl out from within their earthy bed.

Their hair white with lice,
heads topped with mitres black and sooty.
Swords wail gently as they trail behind
feet hoofed and cloven
[though not in likeness to
any beast seen by mankind].

The irreligious man stumbles desperately away,
passing the hoary old man,
waving his cross and crying, 'Alma Redemptoris Mater! '
The crowds in the streets scamper
amidst screams of, ''Tis Judgment Day! '

The beasts in response roar terribly,
'Gloria Deo pater, regem infernorum,
Sunt dulcia ignibus
Gehennae ubi habitat,
nos agere in eius consiliis! '

Pastors and bishops, deacons and priests,
shepherds who once from the pulpit preached,
'Glory unto God, we the shepherds protect his flock'
Now fain do hide, their church doors they firmly lock.

A brave man shakes off the shock and
pushes his family into safety.
His features grimly set,
his palate with blood he seeks to wet.

A Catholic devout of 40 seasons passed,
his God he never once did doubt
nor his pious clout.
A crucifix held firmly in hand
against one raging beast doth he stand.

[Afore his eyes flash memories of years gone-
The bells of marriage ring in the soft summer sun.
The birthday of his beloved son, just turned one.
The warm embrace of his wife gently
Sets in his darkening eyes]

His crucifix he raises upwards and shouts,
'Virtus Christi Cogit vos satanam nascentum,
Ego mitto vos tergum ad infernum! '
A beast turns to face the man,
pinning him in a steely gaze.

It snorts and twirls its sword his way-
the crucifix falls to the floor
in blood scored.

The bodiless wraith twirls wispily in the air.
The sword glows darkly.
Wraith whimpers in despair and is consumed
by blood-slick steel of unearthly design-

A kingly form watches the chaos
from a cloud up high[surely of sulfurous origin].
Arms spread wide, He watches with pride.

His tattered dirtied beard,
His tattered dirtied robe,
swirl softly in the
sweet nothings of the screams from below.

Now Abraham, Michael, Peter and Job
all slither from the widening crevasse
to wreak havoc upon the globe.

Abraham with staff of serpent writhing,
looks up from a man freshly dividing-
A nun banging on chapel doors, a priest yelling in reply,
'Away sinner! I do not wish to die! '

His serpent grins in grim pleasure,
Abraham steps up and takes his measure-
A pound of flesh to him did she pay
For her life spent in coventry.

Michael too, divides a man's head in twain
with the saber that
once Satan's hoards beat back to Gehenna,
now from slaughter of sinners base and plain
he no longer chooses it to abstain.

Peter and Job hand in hand, both holy men pure,
Now break through a barricaded door
To find mother and daughter holding one another tight,
Peter motions to Job, who as one motioning
an unwanted presence to be gone,
flicks his wrist and sets their skin alight.

I write these words, peeking from my place of hiding-
[I fear they see. He sees.]
Perhaps in the future the world will be borne anew,
in which case I offer this warning to you:

'Abandon all hope ye who enter here'
a wise man once said of the gates to Hell.
Learn it well!
For Yahweh did not stop when Satan did he quell-
upon killing him He assumed his role as well.


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Poem Submitted: Friday, January 18, 2013

Poem Edited: Friday, January 18, 2013


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