Bittersweet

No place for children

How very sweet the roses smell
In the evening setting sun
As round a garden table sat
We drink fine wine and tales we tell.

Recalling things of little worth
As chat one does with friends
A little quiet spot we’ve found
Our peaceful place on Earth.

And yet – for others Hell will rain
As bombs fall from the sky
They’re simply people just like us
Caught up, in wars insane.

Such violence is the modern tone
And innocence lives no more
Where far away yet more will die
As they yield to anonymous drone.

And now the roses seem so bitter
A trifle in the scheme
While children fall to violence
And get scattered like so much litter…

©Joe Wilson – Bittersweet…2016

The raven’s awful call…

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Still here I lie in Death’s dark shroud
Just more than dust beneath the ground
And even as they left this place
I heard the raven’s awful sound.
For those above had known me dead
And brought me here in six-foot box
Where even as I could not scream
I felt the dread from Death who mocks.

And as the bugs then through me roamed
As earthly bodies, mine did rot
My soul did not depart this husk
Such was the punishment I got.
And all the pain I still could feel
As rats gnawed at my hands and toes
There’s more to death than we may think
When blood through veins no longer flows.

Way up above the raven calls
The last call they will hear
He makes it as the scythe now falls
For soon they’ll come to join me here.

For if in life they’ve conscience clear
Their soul will soar on Heavenly peal
Though if like me a sinner they be
They’ll die in pain, a living meal.
They severed my head from my body
In years it’s never been found
I could never beg forgiveness
For who would have heard the sound.

Two hundred years in this dark Hell
The bugs and rats long gone
Just dried up skeletal bones remain
And the soul of a less than holy one.
Once, time stood still for just a while
For one short moment I waited
But then I saw the Devil’s smile
For in truth, he is never sated.

And yet once more the raven calls
As someone meets their doom
In six-foot holes beneath the earth
They’ll lie forever in this gloom.

©Joe Wilson – The raven’s awful call…2016

The Road to Purgatory

Silently
Like a stone falls
Into a bottomless well,
A day begins in Purgatory.

Souls go about
Their unseemly business
Moving in their own misery.

Yet all of one accord would say
When asked where they were going
To Hell to suffer unholy wrath
Where the fires are always glowing.

For that is where we all are sent
In life we were unknowing
But wickedness
And our way of life
Bred these, the seeds
That we were sowing.

And as we sow, so shall we reap
We get cast down into the deep.

©Joe Wilson – The Road to Purgatory…2015

The Traveller

Witch Hunter

Show me no mercy for I was so wrong
Things that I’ve done where I didn’t belong
Wipe out my sins with the blood from my veins
Spill it from my body and burn my remains.

Through centuries past I have pillaged and stole
Always ahead of the God-fearing role
Take me to Hell for I fear I am lost
Actions I’ve taken always carry a cost.

But wait, I’ve been saved for reasons unknown
For what manner of evil will I have to atone
Must I roam centuries looking for peace
Why not just kill me and speed my release.

It seems I’ve been given a new Holy task
To seek out all evil in which sinners bask
And steer them from evil and back to their God
Or smite them and bury them under the sod.

Venture forth I now to quell rising tides
Of evils and witches and foul things besides
The hand of my sword is now cloaked in God’s will
My one final chance to honour Him still.

©Joe Wilson – The Traveller…2014