A Voice from the Flames

[heslopian]

Version 2:

Bodily I rest in Hell,
wandering these harsh terrains
accompanied by cries of pain.
Only here do I have weight,
this sodden and demented land.
My crops suckle daily on blood,
and no crevice is void of life.
The stones themselves are haunted;
each brick is a plastic cage.

Yet I am lonesome on my farms
orchestrating each harvest,
the culling and planting of souls,
with a boredom scarcely known by man.
I seek new game, my dear, and rising up through the roof
I've settled in your quaint village.

I looked over your shoulder as you chose CDs,
your thin white fingers stroking the case
of an album depicting my face.
Your hair was long and innocent,
my breath disturbed it like the wind
in a monastery garden, rich with what's alive.
I was there when your neighbour buggered his wife;
they grunted like my pigs when fed
the fingers of your darling kind, who can only scream.

I tapped on the windows of this very church,
and you thought I was just a dream,
lingering there on the old preacher's tongue,
when to an ageless God he sung.
Your music is wind in the caves of Hell,
your stadiums are my churches,
and all the faggotry of men, whose burning bright hair
resemble my flames, will doom you as well.

Version 1:

I looked over your shoulder as you chose CDs,
your thin white fingers stroking the case
of an album depicting my face.
Your hair was long and innocent,
my breath disturbed it like the wind
in a monastery garden, rich with what's alive.
I was there when your neighbour buggered his wife;
they grunted like my pigs when fed
the fingers of your darling kind, who can only scream.

I tapped on the windows of this very church,
and you thought I was just a dream,
lingering there on the old preacher's tongue,
when to an ageless God he sung.
Your music is wind in the caves of Hell,
your stadiums are my churches,
and all the faggotry of men, whose burning bright hair
resemble my flames, will doom you as well.

[addy]

I looked over your shoulder as you chose CDs,
your thin white fingers stroking the case
of an album depicting my face. For me, the opening is interesting but it only starts to get strong around this third line. Maybe just a tiny tweak in the first line could give it that extra hint of build-up
Your hair was long and innocent,
my breath disturbed it like the wind
in a monastary garden, rich with what's alive. i love these three lines.
I was there when your neighbour buggered his wife;
they grunted like my pigs when fed
the fingers of your darling kind, who can should this be "could"? not too sure only scream.

I tapped on the windows of this very church,
and you thought I was just a dream,
lingering there on the old preacher's tongue,
when to an ageless God he sung.
Your music is wind in the caves of Hell,
your stadiums are my churches, Is this still the same you, or did the POV switch around?
and all the faggotry of men, whose burning bright hair
resemble my flames, will doom you as well. Love this stanza, btw

Really enjoyed reading this Jack. Like how you approached your theme

[billy]

I looked over your shoulder as you chose CDs,
your thin white fingers stroking the case
of an album depicting my face. is the orator famous?
Your hair was long and innocent,
my breath disturbed it like the wind
in a monastary garden, rich with what's alive.
I was there when your neighbour buggered his wife;
they grunted like my pigs when fed
the fingers of your darling kind, who can only scream. great 4 lines, could is the correct tense i think



I tapped on the windows of this very church,
and you thought I was just a dream,
lingering there on the old preacher's tongue,
when to an ageless God he sung.
Your music is wind in the caves of Hell,
your stadiums are my churches,
and all the faggotry of men, whose burning bright hair
resemble my flames, will doom you as well. the last 4 lines feel a little preachy but i still like the stanza.

i'm still trying to get a fix on this. it's obviously a dark piece, i can't decide whether he's a killer and he has her or wants her. is the an E in monastery? the images i the lower half of the 1st stanza are exemplary.
and i id enjoy the piece as whole even if i struggled with the understanding of it a little.

thanks for the read.

[heslopian]

Thanks for your kind feedback Addy "You" is one person, "your" (in the second verse) refers more generally to all of mankind. I put "can" because I intended that line to be present tense. Souls are being tortured in hell as the narrator speaks.

Thanks for your kind feedback Bilbo The poem is written from the perspective of Satan, and more specifically a Satan believed in by a puritanical Christian. See above for why I put "can".

[billy]

i never got the satan thing at all 666

[heslopian]

People over at DU struggled with it. I may write another verse to clear it up.

[billy]

fuckin philistines

why don't you use a title that adds something.

666 would work

[heslopian]

Just looked up "monastary" on google and you're right about the "e". I'll change it now, thanks
As for the title, how about A Voice from the Flames?

[billy]

it does lend itself a bit more to the devil.

[tectak]

I looked over your shoulder as you chose CDs,
your thin white fingers stroking the case
of an album depicting my face.
Your hair was long and innocent,
my breath disturbed it like the wind
in a monastery garden, rich with what's alive.
I was there when your neighbour buggered his wife;
they grunted like my pigs when fed
the fingers of your darling kind, who can only scream.

I tapped on the windows of this very church,
and you thought I was just a dream,
lingering there on the old preacher's tongue,
when to an ageless God he sung.
Your music is wind in the caves of Hell,
your stadiums are my churches,
and all the faggotry of men, whose burning bright hair
resemble my flames, will doom you as well.

Hi hes,
Read the crits. I think I will wait for the next verse (seriously)
before I wade in. A bit lossy for me at first glance.....also I am a bit over-faggoted by repetition of same appearing in subject matter!
Best,
tectak

[heslopian]

Thank you for your feedback tectak Do you think the use of "faggotry" in this poem is unneeded?

[tectak]

Thank you for your feedback tectak Do you think the use of "faggotry" in this poem is unneeded?

Hi hes,
Only insofar as I would question whether it is ever needed. It is still considered slang even amonst heterosexual all-american males and purely because it is obscure in its etymological roots I would always look for a more succinct, rather than inflammatory, word. Slang expressions in serious endeavours only work to limit the acceptance to those to whom the word has connotations which they hold to be relevant......the faggotry of men will only ring true to faggots and their persecutors, and that, I believe, was not your intent.
It is a little bit like using dyke (or dike) in a poem about gender sensitive women when in truth you are only describing an understood actuality. The use then puts you in to a camp (no pun intended) in which you wish to opine but do not feel comfortable in, but by then you have blown your cover.
That is all.
Best,
tectak

[heslopian]

Thank you for your thoughtful explanation tectak I understand completely. I worried that by using such terms my poems like this would feel contrived, as though I were trying to crudely force my way into a mindset and impress the reader.