The New Wave Inferno

The tedium of yesterday's demon vignettes

Have become the blood propaganda. Subtle

Are the beast and the benefactors of digression.

They are the succubus of the steadfast sadness

That has overwhelmed the willful vagabonds like us.

These eyes have gazed upon the barren bureaucracy

That bares only the aborted souls of Sodom.

These are not biblical times nor is it ancient antiquity

But ignorant times vomiting the past's great human depression.

So that what once was is repeated; an evil circle.

Painted with the innards of the haunted ones.

The all consuming cosmic void where sleeps

The god of mistakes and misjudgments. With his

Bleeding trident he impales the patrons of Saint Luck.

These dark words come at such a high price

And the inflation of the lightening bolt impulses

(My crown of rusty needles and bent nails) increase

With the veracity of all the world's sinners.

And this comic tragedy sells out daily.

Giving a stage to the benevolent Beelzebub

So the eyeless audience can feel the truth in cruelty.

Dante's travels were an inevitable beginning

To the devil stories told through the epochs and eras.

The Darwinian process of the wretched and wicked.

The butterfly effect so beautifully foreboding.

The gentle breeze released by brittle wings

Ends with the terrible revelation of revolution.

A revolving door for the addicts of insanity.

This new wave inferno is an endless sea.

An unstoppable juggernaut bound to the trickster's clock.

And as time trickles down the vicious knife

The deviants of debauchery will wash clean

The no mans land. Only to become the play thing

For the god of war and all his friends. Silently

All will bare witness to the vanishing act of goodness.

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