Kill the preacher

Kill the preacher
don’t let it go
take what’s been given
take the old soul
drink in the madness
take out the king
given to things
always unseen
kill the priest
and break the mother
keep yourself
all under covers
dressed in sheets
all made of black
white is gone
no coming back
rip angels from the sky
rip their wings
no longer high
kill the preacher
make him dead
take what’s been given
take what’s left

Sirens

We see the sirens coming
hear their songs through clouds
the pain that keeps on leaking
the drums too loud for sound
no music to accompany
no one’s hand to hold
the sirens they are coming
showing all for all to know
to see what’s deep within them
hear their words directly from soul
we see the sirens coming
angels in gold silk
beautiful and glowing
the grace of life giving milk
we see the women coming
the sirens we all covet
hear their songs through clouds
the sky that spit them out
falling like the stars
the sirens trap our mouths

Where the dark things are

They all want the darkness
like it’s calling out to them
they all want the sickness
the voices in their heads
they all want the crawling
the writhing on the floor
as if it is a good thing
to always want for more
they all want to walk
with fire and with pain
as if they know the darkness
and call it by its name
like midnight is for magic
and the devil for the wronged
as if the dark will save them
and as if the light can’t see
as they lust for demons
when it’s angels that they need

Sleep to dream

He is a genius
a man who knows just how to talk
he walks on water while he stalks
he is a genius
brooding bad but oh so sweet
he is the only one
she thinks of when she sleeps
he keeps on watching
and she takes comfort in his wings
he’s like her angel
though he is dark and sometimes mad
he is a genius
where could there be a better man
he is a creature
an exotic kind of cream
he can be anyone
as long as she can sleep to dream

Wingless

Shattering skies mean nothing
when the world has turned to ash
the rain that fell from heaven
was never meant to last
forgotten are the angels
existing in between
the world has lost its merriment
rather listening to screams
shattering skies mean nothing
as everything’s already lost
when rain falls down forever
and no one sees the cost
we dewinged the angles
and lost all the love

Like an angel

She sings like an angel
at least that’s what they say
she looks like a child
giving happiness away
the fear within her eyes
like mirrors to a soul
a vision of a girl
never to grow old
she sings like an angel
high upon a cloud
she sings about the pain
as though it is profound
a heart that breaks like glass
with eyes that shed diamond tears
the world that she inhabitants
draws visions from her ears
and everything she sings
decays her soul some more
she lost all of her feathers
when her wings fell to the floor.

The rapture

Listen to the rapture
of very delicate things
the kind that are expensive
living mostly in your dreams
the items that you covet
the ones you really need
listen to the angels
selling virtue to the thieves
delicate and beautiful
they take you to your knees
the items that you dream about
bring serenity
listen to the rapture
it tells you of your end
how beautiful the death will be
when you’ve spent your last cent

The basics

“Seriously boy, tell me, tell me what you thought was going to happen-you think it was gonna be all happiness and angel wings? That’s not how it works kid. Flesh and blood or not it never works out that way.”
Marty’s shaking his head wrapping his towel about his waste, the kids slow, but Marty knows he’s been through a lot. Still no bullshit.
“We don’t mix kid. For a reason. They’re up there for a reason-we’re there for a reason,” slapping the kids shoulder, he knows it stings, out of skin, everything hurts, “see the pattern?“
He sucks in air the slap burning through his body, but physical pain the kids made peace with
“Why-it was so good, she was, why her? I’m here why-”
Marty slaps him again old timers have no patience for feigned humanity.
“Kid, how was it gonna work? She’s a fucking angel, you’re a demon, come on-give me a break,” they enter the steam room, “you kids never listen and then this happens and you ask why me? Like you’re special-like you’re human. They pity us and we covet them. That’s how it works, but yeah you spend too many summers top side and suddenly-”
“You saying I didn’t love her? Is that what you’re saying?” the kids all fire, but a bleeding heart delusion is hard to let go of, “is that-”
“Sit down no need to waste a steam,” the kid sits. Marty has no patience, “That’s exactly what I’m saying, and she doesn’t love-”
Cupping head in hands he’s trying to contain himself, “Don’t say it, don’t you say it Marty!” he growls wondering why it hurts so much, pain dripping from his flesh.
“Alright kid, alright but it’s true-it can’t happen. We aren’t made for that, like I said we covet them, coveting isn’t love kid no matter how good it feels to hold. We ain’t human, you might drive fancy cars and sleep with mortal broads, hell you can fuck a fairy you ain’t ever going to meet the queen. You getting this? Any of it sinking in?“ he doesn’t want to be harsh, but he does, and it’s the truth so for Marty it’s a win win.
“It felt real, Marty, real. Everything else-”
“Wasn’t an angel. Wake up kid, angels, demons-why is this complicated?“ the beginnings of eternity is wrought with inflated self worth, “You kids, you always forget the basics. It’s nature, our nature to want what has been lost, a moment with an angel, it’s the closest a sorry sap like you will get to the gates. The Morning Star lost us grace, kiss of an angel.”
His eyes glaze over he’s still wearing his face, the look of pure desire, the human hunger not lust.
“Kid, how do you think fallen angels are made? You think it’s pretty? You got lucky. She went back to the fold, a little longer, one of you would’a changed. You think of that? That beautiful seraphim falling, falling all the way down, further than you know, further than I know, all that grace burning-in horrible fire, kid you got lucky,” he stops himself as the steam begins to paint the scene, torment always visible.
The kids shaking, he’s watching the show.
“Why? Why-”
“Don’t get worked up. It’s simple. They become corrupted, they turn their backs, hell sometimes they absolve us-that’s a real bitch. They basically damn themselves, never falling, but never rising again and the last thing they see of you? The embrace of the divine. That’s rare though, so much easier to fall.”
Marty looks to the kid, who’s still watching the steam it’s easy to see the more that he watches, the better it feels. The kids got contempt now.
“You’re gonna be fine, kid, you’re gonna be fine.”
Smiling the kid leans back hands behind his head.
“So what you’re telling me Marty, is that bitch could’ve stayed with me?”
The kid’s gonna be just fine.