Death Angel

Requiem for Bertie


Requiem for Bertie

Angel of Death
Angel of Death

A walking cadaver feasting yet never full.  Hollow sunken cheeks. Fetid breath.  Mortuary bones clacking like castanets signal a dirge for a being hanging onto life yet bound for the grave. More specter than man. A rambling absurdity. Vultures patiently await thy final fall. Ye reek of the morgue. Thy entire body festers as a gangrenous wound.  He beckons! He beckons! Rub him down with frankincense and myrrh!   Ready thy flesh for winding sheet and cooling board. Turn back all covered mirrors!  Face thy head to the North Star. Every road ye tread leads to the crypt. Thy Tomb awaits thee and bids thee step in.

Island of the Damned -- Bocklin
Island of the Damned by Bocklin

The smell of death accompanies thy uprising and approach.  A stench emanating from thy despoiled core lingers in every room.  Onlookers vainly swing their heads in disgust trying to dislodge tastes of putrid flesh invading their tongues. Youth and health have been dispersed to the gale like leaves whipped by the windstorm then fallen to soil. Leaves decomposing returning to the earth from whence they came.  No potions, brews or concoctions from Ye Olde Apothecary Shoppe can save thee now. Threescore and ten shall not be thine for the Fates are poised to cut life’s cord.

The Pale Horseman rides for thee. This night thy soul is required.  Ferry passage has been booked and Charon awaits you dockside for thy journey across the River Styx.  Once shiny obsidian bursting with life now ye become dusty white-grey urn ashes.  A tree that once stood tall in the forest has fallen never to rise again.  Strong saplings are pine boxes for many Potters Fields.

Once to the bazaar now to the funeral.  Maggot courtiers await the beck and call of thy rotted corpse. Hypnos wicked opium dram shall deliver thy harvest ready soul gathered unto Thanatos sickle and scythe.  Journeys fueled by alcohol, cigarettes and sugar end much too soon. Yonder cemetery will be thy new home.

Queen of Delusions


Angels Falling
Angels Falling

I see a great city set upon a hill. Within rules a Queen who is the mistress of delusion. But her fight is within her as she continually strives for lasting youth, unattainable wealth and supreme power through use of her fading beauty and exotic sexuality.

Though she knows not she struggles to maintain an illusion seeing the mirage as reality not realizing the passing of time brings her closer to self-destruction.  Doors become walls of solid brick through which she may not pass through. And yet a portal to eternity is soundly guarded by an ancient crone who wears a solid gold ring embellished with diamonds, pearls, rubies, garnets, and sapphires.

Will the haughty Queen forever scheming to obtain enhanced beauty and more riches kiss the old hag’s hand, then looking up sees Atropos as she cuts the thread of life cackling hysterically as the Queen is ushered across the River Styx to resume life in an alternate universe as a disfigured wizened old woman whose only companion is poverty. Deception laughs. Samsara has it’s justice in this world and the next.

 

Mark 8:36
King James Version (KJV)
36 For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?