Desolate the BEE EYE PEE

White feathered wings blood spotted hang desolate as eyes of brass review the plain.
Bring him heads and arms and legs and viscera, hang them upon him.
Let no insect settle and know peace here, let no flower grow, only subtle whimpers here.
Bring baskets of rotted flesh in offering and cower at his feet, bring laments as gifts, petty sorrows as payment.
Pull out the dead and turn their heads to him upon the hill above the fields.
Let him see them look upon him so he may know exhaltation and worship.
Do not let the death rattle of spent shells littered upon the field distract him from his vile feeds.
Pull out Augustine from the heaving crowd so he may bear witness,whipped with cords of sharp barbed steel and the shadows of his laughter grow long.
Let his Knights bring pestilence drove in beats of music harsh to ear matched to the cacophony of rifle, revolver and automatic.
They smile with teeth of gold tipped with diamond to rent and tear the willing flesh a machine gun tap dance.
“There is no other” They cry as dancers hit the murder floor and tip toe through the fetid blood. “Golun, Shamshead, Treuk and Balshem”
He smiles and rips the air with fear driven hordes before him implore hands above their heads, silent and then screams of desolation…”We offer all” the mass cry.
“But i offer everything….” he replies in ten thousand tongues and ten thousand sighs and ten thousand signs.
Heavy with flesh and prophecy instilled deep within and twisted by the earth his hands reach out to touch the sky and awful hail falls upon the ground.
Hordes build for him a throne of welded metal and battered flesh of dust and skin and hair of powered men and governments and laws. He sat and watched.
And lands below consumed with fire and peopled by the vain stopped by preening mirrors and choked masturbation.
“Let us enter here” they lament to him throned and proud and he picks a horned nail in feigned interest.
“Have you not built this house…” a reply as a thousand cutting slabs of glass fall upon the worshipful pinned horror.
“Did you not prepare the mortar…” one million stinging flies trapped in idiot drool.
“Did you not put a hand upon the mantle…” One thousand Popes dancing and singing.
“Have you not intoxicated yourselves here…” and they sawed at their ears with shards of razor glass.
He spread his wings of deep sea black where stars whirled and danced upon the velvet night and between the feathered filth she came…
Daughter of Loab and Enthemom a thousand tongues to pleasure bare breasted heat and men and women wept again to gaze upon her flesh and all murdered to gain her favour.
A hand delicate a touch so sweet in glistened latex tight and neat all laced with soft velvet bottomless heart.
She swept and filled those near with pleasure so great they fell tumbling into abyss and shaft and pit.
A touch of whip and strap so sweet they treasured every welt and scratch an exhibition, a trophy, marked.
Tender kiss so light and teeth so perfect nipped the skin and nipple twisted ache of joy and pleasure passed.
Of cordage lashed still upon the shaft ignored and left for flies and reptiles kiss hair brushed and satin smooth she laughs and all weep.
“Did you not cry for her in long nights warm in bed with busied hand?” he asked and tenderly wiped her bloodied breasts.
“For this we suffer gladly” some cried.
“For now my friends, for now” he laughed and took the sun within his hand and threw it upon the fires aired by gasp of tortures.
Darkness lit by fired pit gloomed smoke and terror ripped hair in fingers sagging flesh and germ he spoke….

For each a doorless cell lit with cracked tube
For each a thousand wires delved within the flesh
For each a whore of maggot flesh
For each a spider full of venom
For each a basket of once loved dead
and for each a sum of ten thousand things to tantalise and suffer for ten thousand years and for each day ten thousand fears and for each fear ten thousand pains and for each pain ten thousand laments and for each cry a fine of ten thousand days and listen to me….my hate for you is not one ten thousandth of the pain you will suffer……

And his wings spread wider and all was under his dominion,
rain of fly wing and scale of hurtful dust of beaten wing,
borne upon the ether.
Cracked nail and twisted tail beast of man, cut skinless vessels
upon wracked dissolved frame….

“I am the way, The Great Web, The Whisperer, The Counter
The Bringer of gifts, Bearer of Bad News, The Poisoner, The Latest thing,
The Shell maker, The Gun Bringer, The Butcher, The Scientist.

I am the Desolation.

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