Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Sonnet: The Skull of Putin

The Skull of Putin

Outside how small, within how strangely thing!
What demon terror has their paths in there?
What chants of Hell and hates linger within?
Thunder and blast, evil like rats, in there!
Here kept is the gleam of Russia’s past.
Here armies are being tailored, yet to be.
The world on its knees, will never last
Yet, a haunting plea in Putin’s decree.

There will be awful judgments, and God’s might,
To those inquests, and Putin will be led—
On a bed of cold worms, Hell biting mites
Into this room artic cold with no light!
The immortal damned, question here, the dead,
As the devil’s foul weight, falls upon his Head!...

No: 4483 (7-21-2014)