Burning bricks, dyeing sun,
rotting flesh until there is none.
Dark crucifix on the wall,
damned souls creeping crawl.

Blood flowing river's deep,
virgin mother's endless weep.
Seeking eyes to a darkened sky,
prayers carried on a breathless sigh.

Laughter from an insane mind,
victims to suffer he will find.
Games of torture taking toll,
being merciless on a helpless soul.

These days of hell will come to be,
if we don't find the good we need.
Killing the serpent, living sin,
never sleep in the Devil's den.

Poetry by David W. Glavin
Read 509 times
Written on 2016-08-12 at 01:01

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Kathy Lockhart The PoetBay support member heart!
Very deeply moving and so telling of the times. Dark and desperate. Perfect Title. You have a talent for finding the perfect title to your poems. Or do the titles find the poem? I am finding that you have an alternative to the darkness in these macabre poems. You offer the Light. :) kathy

This id very well written. I would take this.porm metaphorically as the present state of himanity.

well done

Hmm ... days like these are sure to come if we don't do anything for humanity. Well written. Nice depictions.