A man dressed in his
freshly laundered garb,
with arms extended up to heaven,
the place he speaks about in words
that fly through the holy air,
swirling around his thorny mind,
bouncing off his rubber shoulders,
laying waste with all the rubble,
looking down at him, a holy savior,
a man with the plastic tongue,
the speaker of goodness but
an advocate of evil,
the man with another man
hidden in the closet, dying to get out,
of high authority and low morality,
a patriarch with a cunning speech,
who rallies the youth around his feet
and lifts them up with
his trusting, lusting hands
and brings them down into
his decadent world.
Devils look like devils,
dress like devils,
speaking in the devil’s tongue,
living in the fire down under.
Patriarchs look like patriarchs
with another man behind the smile,
living “beneath” the fire down under.

  • 0
  • 1
Login to comment...
Robert L. Martin
about 1 year

I've never been there before, but I can imagine where the worst of them are.

Nelson D Reyes
about 1 year

How low can the “patriarchs” go! All the way down to beneath the beneath. Down below Hades /Dante’s 9th circle of hell where more “patriarchs” lurk.

Like. Thanks Robert.

Liked or faved by...

Nelson D Reyes

Other works by Robert L. Martin...

Some poets followed by Robert L. Martin...

Berlinn Berlin Lxnnnie Rutledzh Lucy Pendragon Kara Vasquez Merle Van Dee Vic