My Demons

.

Earth one day will spit humans

from her skin, like fleas flicked.

Demon fear evoked can never be

returned to the Djinn's lamp. Death

in fames is a hellish reference;

asphyxiation in the inescapable.

.

Death lurks shadow cast, inhaling

demon laughter in a firestorm. Imps

like to drown things in old and huge

betrayals and blunders that flood

the world with humans as victims.

.

Creeping up uninvited, sprites urge 

pain and agony into bloomed hatred.

In a dead flower fantasy, we pick a

particular demon and smell

the purgatory.

.

allets

12-23-15

958a

.

 

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sweetwater's picture

Wow, such a powerful

Wow, such a powerful imagination and what a wonderfully deep poem. I loved the imagery it brought forth. A real ' can get the teeth stuck into it ' poem superb. Sue xx

allets's picture

Merci Sweetwater

Glad you liked the imagery, i struggled with this one. I rewrote it on 06-19-19, to bring it into the most recent renditionof what I call my aesthetic. So many demons, but more angels - like you. :D slc