MAUDLIN MAWS▪︎Poetry (3)

32. Vengeance stands

About my of the velvet falling nights
Bending the knee; bloody and defeated_ but he doesn't see it
The promise to make guts gush a fair carmine fountainhead rotting his jaw,
Musking his brow with terror
That's alright with me he said
It's all for god's principles, his demands are my command
He tells him of legitimate kills, slaughtered maidens; pure intents
Made with ordained steel under the name of justice,
Heedless faith, good servitude

Holding the accused by the halo even though her eyes are killing him
Leaking a divinity in her gaze;
( not the pretending kind condemned to perch from seven docks above )
Honor sets heavy with the price he has to pay with his conscious
Clutched at his feet like a bundle of ripened plums, lilacs, cleanness;
Greeting death with an embrace meant for homesickness_
A quiet peace once her sisters tasted when they bled martyred

The shadow of a saint is anointed to set on the scene_
Holy wraiths encircling them
Crying occult grievance to the betided revered
Nudged by the touching true blade he held.
Escaping her own body
Letting go of the winds ruffling the sabine whiff to her nose
She slumbers down without a sound
Not a shriek but the bells chiming on a pyre
Singing the songs of her verity
As her mane smolders into glowing heralding embers
A raven inside a circle of fire emanates from sleep
Rising out of suffused blessed rubbles to earthborn hull_ and blood

My is but trumbeling limbs and clasping prayers
Thundercracks are silenced by his rueing sobbing
Pealing accuses from his mouth and one finger pointed to the heavens
Beshrewing the vows he sweared to honor, hunt for in the open court of principals:

'It is not forgiveness I'm seeking...not blessed angels bistowing absolution for my misdeeds or penance for who I made weep in atrocities
This is no atonement deed.
I recognise that these hands are tools for ache
Tumult-makers meant for no soft strokes
Cursed upon the artifacts of my shoulders
The day I bowed sanctified and blind
Blessed in the dark
With those waters richorating from hypocrisy
I'm here to show you what lies of rage in my ribs
What congests rot in the condor of my fealty
What makes a believer wants to carve providence from his bones and eat his god'

22/3/2023