Sunday, September 25, 2016

St. Antony’s Nightmare ((Revised) (in Poetic Prose)

Prologue:   I want to write about Saint Antony for very good reason. That being, demonic pestering, it exists. My grandfather (Anton) to which I’ve written a short story some years ago, concerns demonic beings he saw and heard and witnessed, digging a hole, a tunnel to get to him in his basement (a warning); my father in law (Augusto Peñaloza), fought with demons—sometimes nightly; my mother saw one demon spying in her window, even drew a picture of him for me; Father Pio fought with demons, and Saint Rosa wanted to step on the devil’s face, and I have had several experiences with them myself. But as for the most of my stories involve me, this one involves Saint Anthony, to serve a purpose, his may be more believable! And if I was to seek out more witnesses, the unbelievers would simply say, they all had psychological problems, if that’s the case, I’m sure there would be quite a high stack.

The Nightmares

Saint Antony: 'The dead are pale, faded, they stock each other, live in the eyes of the past, bewildered, and profound'
The ascetic sees demons in the shape of beasts, and the remnants of the Gates of Ctesiphon, to which shapes (demons) piled all about them!
Their black cloaks are fastened by dead men's bones!

They flog one another, and laugh at their aching limbs and burning caresses...
Their hair fastened by vipers, and the faces bear the resemblance of: Cain, Sodom, and Pilate, Nero stares at Antony, as Judas yelps:
"Thanks to me, God saved the world!"
Many of those demonic faces are made of wolf’s skin, they are envious of Antony's dog's bone meal.
The old ones, older than written time, from the pre-Adamic era, are all dried up, like mummies—
Their glances dull; they have long white eyebrows; they are eating grasshoppers, and at the same time, their mouths quiver exclaim: 'Come, come, be swift about it, there are no crimes here in Tartarus; the need here below is of the love of God, and He is gone! We are made for the Devil!'

Knoup his lights some argil lamps, gives light to Antony's nightmare, more like a vision now
The light smothers the long legged fluttering mosquitos...
Antony's mind is fragmented, his thoughts twisted, imps are trying to rope and tie him from the windings of entrails!
There is no manifestation, not today, not like other days.
One of the old ones snatches the bone from Antony's dog.
And the nightmare that had emerged as if through a hole in the
wall and formed itself out of a blue mist, dissipates.
And a second vision comes into making.
The High Priest of Saturn.
Ere long, he grows bright, as darkness envelopes his hollow eye sockets!
He opens his mouth it is as a deserted pit—
His eyebrows are like clumps of shrubs!
With a long breath, and panting pulse he decries:
"How irksome you make me! Hector, I gathered his bones, lest the worms get them, be a martyr, or sin, so I can collect yours!" He tells Saint Antony.

No: 4774/6-27 & 28-2015/ Revised: 1-2016

Note 1:  St. Antony was born 250 A.D., died 357 A.D., at the age of 107-years old. He was from a town in Egypt called Coma, and is noted for his monasticism life. He had many trials with the demonic world. He lived many years in a tomb near his native village. His conflicts were with demons whom took the form of beastly shapes.
Note 2: Inspired in part by the writings of Gustave Flaubert, and the writings attributed to St. Athanasius