PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Soul-critic, rise nocturnal poet,

enters virgin dreams and bleeds

their ears with the echoes of your

voice-

Tell a person that wishes are no

longer granted, but souls are now

welcome in a secret society; I

speak of the Illuminati with

compassion and desire to be

illuminated-

My predestine fate shows a

panoramic view of a lake of fire,

waves are flames of lava and sulfur;

condemn for blasphemy against a

spirit considered holy-

My soul taken and molded into a

demon with human form; I walk

amongst you, look like you, speak

like you-

Soul-critic poet rise from your grave

like Lazarus did when Jesus the

savior called out his name-

While you laid dead in the tomb, the

prince of darkness paid a fee for the

rights of your soul- a choice was not

given! God told Lucifer, “You can

keep that muthafucka’, he brings

out the worst in me.”

“Rise my son, rise soul critic; poet of

Armageddon, ride with me into the

Apocalypse …RISE! My son, RISE.”

Lucifer spoke-

Soul-critic poet arose from the dead,

with no soul, or words to critique with,

his poems left the tomb,

un-resurrected!

Heaven is scared of him; Hell fears the

coming of the Soul Slayer Rider of

Revelations!