Washed out linen imposed upon
by droplets iron rusted red.
Bade a blade, created to obey
my deepest darkest wish now craved,
to end this lifeless life I live.
Cadaver carcass corpse,
matters not what’s said,
for the goal is to be dead.
My soul tainted by my act
leapt with glee from this world
liken not the lowest pandemonium,
where demons dwell in delight,
souls in self-perpetuating suffering.
Search did I whilst still in God’s good grace
this intermediate place
for the littlest of innocence,
cut short, cancelled, called off,
scraped, scrapped, scourged,
expeditious omission of existence
in the sublunary world.
Atonement bemoaned by the one
who stole the soul’s becoming,
a stain to taint my destined identity, my destiny.
Altered chartered meritorious course,
faltered beats of a heart furnished only with remorse,
which beat less and less before its witless end.
Entrant to this equivalent division betwixt
the holiness of heaven and hollowness of hell,
oblivious to oblivion,
aparalyctic in this apocalyptic.
My quest, arduous or audacious,
certainly overtly overambitious,
vexed my spirit guide of whom I solely did rely.
Luminescent artisan of miracles,
administer of ministry and divinity,
whom I begged, beseeched, besieged
assistance in this quest of coexistence
between the world before and after,
where worthy righteous and wantonly wicked await
the unsealing of each book of life,
so sealed in it their fate,
guilty or guilt free, sentence soon it will reveal,
with no plea bargain, pardon or appeal.
Cross me over the crossing place, I wailed,
the place of woe below that I must go,
celestial cherubim, now ferryman
with scepter, sword and shield.
Angelic prowess powerless did yield.
Across the deluge of guilt, spilt blood and shame
lamenting sorrows showered down for untold hours
as darkness dwellers we became.
Petitioning prayers of perseverance to the highest powers,
and for the one deprived of life, nary to carry forth my name.
Rapidly transgressing the roaring rage of river Styx,
supplicating for the geometric genetic matrix
whose rhythmic algorithm duplicates my double helix.
Gilded gateway guarded upon approach.
Satan’s scions scalding sonance of reproach.
Colloquy did ensue, blaspheme hurled to subdue.
My guardian, my Azrael, hid me from their view.
Sons of Darkness cowered low as he strode through,
a beacon to beset the bastards bunkered down below.
Exalted halted on the chasm’s brim.
Seraphim assailing the unholy
emerging from the pit of sin.
piercing, penetrating and precise,
suspending sense and making murk of memory,
my mind/body identity.
Abaddon’s beckoning eternal flame
fed by deceit, depravity and shame.
Though craven and confused, evil’s ruse I did refuse.
Angel’s wing instead did choose
as haven from this graven raven cavity.
Hell’s seduction furthermore be purged.
Wholly spectacles amassed, one’s holy chronicle
a precept of repentance, Heaven’s to review,
compassion for contrition in this petition for recourse.
Recycle the life cycle, if their penance here be through.
Second chances sought for beings humbled and docile,
exoneration for those servile in this extraordinary exile.
“Censure suspended from eternity’s damnation?”
I queried my enchanting ethereal escort.
“Exculpation for me could never be,
retribution from this constant castigation,
sanctions from condemnation and vituperation.”
God’s assuaging attendant objected to my degradation,
and blest my loyalty to the fragmented family tree,
whilst believing it better placed on our Father and the trinity.
“Dearest Devotee to The One I cannot see,
my volition I invoke.” Sedition thus evoked.
Further even more did I provoke in what I spoke.
“Assure me this,” I began, questioning the bigger plan,
believing oath be orated by this being from above,
“the unborn seed, whose care I was so careless, has been set free
to live the destiny of futurity as it was meant to be?”
Frustration then ensued by this lack of mediation
abdication or cessation.
Anger in the Angel’s eyes was no surprise,
nor was there disguise in the chastise of reprise.
Who was I to wonder about the will of the One,
bespeaking a sneak peak of a future yet revised.
Perhaps t’was time to seek the oracle’s vestibule,
a last chance for a minuscule miracle or two.
Verily we found this virtuous visionary seer that I sought,
seemingly more vixen than zen as originally thought.
Priestess of prediction appalled at my presumption
of assumption that she would know Thy’s will,
assurance that it was beyond even her ephemeral skill.
Compunction for dysfunction and deficiency of maternal function,
I fell prey to the travesty of my audacity and temerity,
a reaction in action, an absence of humility.
My crime in the beforetime the cause of this deconstruction
and ascendancy of a nuisance of pursuance with culpability.
Deep did I weep as patience was bestowed,
clemency and mercy courtesy of thee, the Deity.
Munificence’s whispered wisdom,
as archetypical lyrical resonance, was heard
undisturbed or perturbed
by my officious vicious soliloquize,
malcontent in its capricious content.
I, a desipient to The One so wise,
who existed timeless before my untimely demise,
listened intently in this state of attenuation,
to the infectious joyous melody
meant to abet, embrace and embody
the departed disemodied.
It filled this vagabond with faith beyond which I could correspond,
ending this atrocious affliction caused by my
conviction, confliction and dereliction.
Besot was I before coming into this summoning of a new becoming.
Resounding repetition in my head of that word so worldly is its wisdom,
ah, faith, with all its connotations, celebrations and commendations.
How simple would be a newfound role to extol
faith as a faultless, flawless pastoral principal
secured in more than scriptural sectarian principle.
Steep was my sleep, eternal peace now attained,
with hopes to awaken in the kingdom He judiciously reigned.
Slumber no longer lumbered by the reactionary act
which could be forgiven but never forgotten.
There’s no payment of a sacrilegious debt once begotten.
Though memory may replay the pain of that day,
when myself didst stray and God’s trust betray.
The grim reaper, I anticipate, will have longer to wait,
this keeper of despair no longer a thought to negate.
Restoration, reappearance and return to life
was my Maker’s design and demand.
Taking a stand, understanding firsthand
how to armour and arm myself to withstand
the clamor, yammer and strife.
I’ve been given a chance to change those hearts rife,
with indecision on the decision I regret to this day,
horrified by my filicide and the emptiness inside.
Incessant thoughts of the life I deprived
induced my self-contempt and attempted suicide.
New life may begin untimely or unplanned you may find,
and conceivably conception could be viewed an unfortunate mistake,
though fortune’s defined by more than thoughts of the materialistic kind,
the heartache, like a stake in your heart, you cannot shake,
and will cause it to break,
making bedlam of both body and mind.
Whether to term or terminate is a woman’s right
decreed such by the dogmatic writ that is written,
emphatically pragmatic bureaucratic in spite
of theocratic democratic rules which do fight
for beings not born due to dictum misgotten,
Please, heed my words, lest they will be forgotten.
For its the meek with no voice I humbly do speak .