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Speak of the Devil
by V. Blakewith the rhythmic creak of ancient wood
a saint's soot-preserved carcass
will swing side to side from a noose
like a pendulum in my basement,
as the four horsemen of the apocalypse
ride forth from my fingertips.
and by the audacity of the gods,
the static of angels cracking the earth--
as they fall through the mustard gas clouds
that choke the streets of heaven--
will be given human voice enough to claim
they told you not to speak my name. 12/19/2009 Author's Note: Happy Holidays!
Posted on 12/19/2009
Copyright © 2026 V. Blake
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Ken Harnisch on 12/20/09 at 07:50 AM eerie and different in a provocative way, Vince |
| Posted by Nanette Bellman on 12/21/09 at 01:01 AM I'm not sure if this is Vince or one of his alter ego's but either way this is short, sharp and powerful in my opinion. What a crescendo you've created it here. |
| Posted by A. Paige White on 12/22/09 at 05:57 PM Quite the tribute to old split foot. Personally, Must make his chest swell with pride to see such flattery at the top of the Pathetic Christmas wish list! Great writing. |
| Posted by Kris Mara on 12/22/09 at 11:21 PM powerful -- you have a way of accomplishing that with such intelligence that I know I'm always in for a great read...and the author's note just ties it up so well ;) |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 12/23/09 at 06:32 PM Ha! I keep coming back to this one. There is such a mix of emotions from this for me - you have taken humankind and given it a good shake. and Happy Holidays to you! |
| Posted by Tony Whitaker on 12/24/09 at 03:39 AM Great piece Vince. Except, after reading your "Author's Notes" I must ask, what color is the sky in your world??? ;) |
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