Fallen Angel

<[He Fell]>

falling high above ground
way above his minds eye
he fell
he cried
he learnt to dance
smiling hard and fast
all on the way down.

Swimming in his own pile of flesh
the blood a bath
yet no blood bath
his eyes still strung on emptiness
though never highly
only he could fall some more
through the safety net of earth.

Hell grabbed him with open arms
burning limbs choking his thoughts
flesh and bone now singed
like a used candle
he was safe in fixed pain and grimaces
he couldn't fall any further
else he would begin all over again.

<[He then finds stony ground]>

He knew,
he swallowed so much pride his intestine exploded,
yet he had others.

He slipped away as his mind's eye blinked furiously
climbing skywards through dirt and discarded gods
the summit in sight he paused.

Not ready to win he rammed his fingers into his throat
hoping to point to the place in his mind that caused indecision
yet all he achieved was sickness.

Slipping on stench filled bile he fell again
but this time only onto his haunches
crawling childlike he found stony ground.

It was here he discovered that by raising one finger
the world would choke on its own bitterness
but if he ever dared to raise two, the world he crafted would turn on him.

<[He watches the lung choke.]>

Just sat on a rock, moss covered
not moving, be it eyes or tongue
he sits and he waits expectantly .

He sits for five hundred years and waits
waiting
waiting
the moss now crawled and encroached every orifice
his eyes green and strangled
his mouth chocked full of wildlife
yet he watches still.

He has seen the death,
he watched as arrows flew
and tore through men like blades through silk
the blood and sinew just a trophy to be stomped upon
the arrows became bullets
that eject brain tissue through skulls
as many boots, shiny yet only reflecting oppression
trampled the meek, weak and indifferent underfoot.

Still he waited
just chuckling inside from time to time
a witness to bullets turning into bombs
falling gracefully from rickety birds
sending limbs flying great distances
the craters singing heat tasting death
licking wounds like a hearty meal.

Then silence
and smoke
and dirt
and death
blood
hatred
anger
then the worst of all creation
no bombs nor bullets nor arrows
just a virus
dreamt in Gods own image
crawling and expanding like a fog
many fingers tickling and tearing skin.

now he stopped the waiting and the watching,
he stood tall shattering his own bones
yet mustered energy to move on
but not until he pointed and cried
two fingers to a choking lung
he now knows that only death wins every game.

<[He finds a voice and sings.]>

When he cleared his throat
many people drowned
washed away by a phlegm tsunami.

This merely raised a smile.

As the notes left his voice box
trees uprooted and fell,
smashing birds and nests into burrows and caves.
Mixing bears with bullfinches
wings with claws
beaks with teeth.

God asked him to 'be quiet!'
He knew that he was above God
above all creation
with a foot in one ocean
he gargled salt water
spitting out sharks and coral
at his leisure.

He was quiet for nobody.

With nails containing filth so toxic
he scraped volcanoes into fields
cutting man's displeasure
starting earthquakes with b major
causing heartache with c minor
whistling a tune that stripped the moon naked.

Perched on the nearest star he surveyed his audience
and began to sing again.

<[He plays God.]>

On the seventh day with no restriction in sight,
leaving a cloud, a cliche he tarnished
belching fossil fuels
screaming nitrous oxide
sleeping for fools
he arrived.

Nature was fair game,
she never went away
this troubled his quarrel
toyed with his ego
tore at his thoughts.

So he chewed on a lion
then spat it out for the gazelles
he fed an alligator to a warthog
killed a polar bear with a penguin.

With a frenzied pace
he carried a snow capped mountain
and dropped it in Australia
dragged the desert by it's corners
to the north pole
then spent hours tossing fish into the sky.

Yet man still puzzled him
they ignored his tantrums
so imperious against his perilous prancing.
In a huff he pointed to God......
'Have it, it's your problem to solve.'

<[ Tree sits alone.]>

Thirty years of effort
growing both above and below the crevice
where that seed first fell from the gulls mouth
it bonded to the side of the hill
pushing roots through soil
and stone
and rock
and granite
and acid
and worms
and lava
to a core where earth's kindness and reflection
ran through its veins like a man made current.

Above was no different
the urge to stretch despite holding onto to so many leaves
which hung like many pendants from many fingers
catching the sun's rays inviting heat and light
nestling birds
and squirrels
and children
and tossed shoes
and sometimes butterflies
yet more often plastic bags.

Pride carried it through autumn
when those pendants fell
like so many suicidal workers
and scattered mockingly
by it's feet, like undressing for bed.

Then the winter that froze solid
it's limbs, feeling ready to snap
if anything bigger than an owl should land.

Yet another summer had arrived
the tree stretched out lovingly
feeling the warm glow
radiate over it's majestic clothing,
feeling the roots moving and massaging the soil
like toes on carpet.

Another glorious day
another reason to be alive
another thirty years of wonder
of squirrels
of children
of winter
of summer
of sun
of earth
of......

....'He' saw this after hiding behind the hill,
dashing over, dragging a grimace like a snow shovel
he karate chopped the tree
watched it fall down the hill and die.

<[Rain leads to dismay]>

It rained
long
hard
wet
yet warm
but so damp
puddles reflecting images
images reflecting puddles
he hated it,
holding out his arms
catching droplets, watching his palm fill
like a sink
then cascade down his arm
all this time his hair straggly at best was soaked
to a skull that only contained nonsense.

This wasn't supposed to happen
he had angered god
so was he crying?
'Why should his tears intrude on my skin?'
he asked the local birds.

He spotted man crouched under an umbrella
fending off the intrusive water
the puddles of filth yet to form around their feet.

In a panic he dragged earth with both hands
yet this only invented a canal
he kicked layer upon layer of filth into the air
yet this only invented a lake
he punched a hole into the floor
......a spring
he pushed over a cliff
.....a waterfall
kicked over trees
.....a dam

he pulled off his head and smashed it on the floor
twenty times, the birds scattered from his mind
thirty times, the ants headed for the hills
fifty times, the blood ran cold through the water.

God had won this round
water was here to stay.

<[He used his curse wisely]>

He wasn't a man
of that he was glad
he had watched these pitiful creatures
fornicate
and masturbate
alienate
procrastinate
but for what purpose?

Were they merely a plague?
Destroying like biblical locusts
the hard work from above.

He used his curse,
man was already cursed
with his stupid dangly bits
and a pair of kill switches within kicking distance.

Woman........
she was the one that spat out more and more plague bearers,
she was the one that overpopulated his peacefulness
she was the one ripe for cursing

so it was decided on Gods day off,
Use your egg
or bleed and swell
suffer pain
crippling pain

for his enjoyment.

<[He takes a day away from the madness.]>

He decided to rest on the moon and observe man
there was no TV
there were no games
there was no heaven
not for him

Sitting in a box on the bright side he waited......

Man tossed a grenade at another man
who tossed a bomb at a city
that spewed smoke and dead people.

Elsewhere ten boys kicked one boy black
then six girls teased one girl until she wanted to die

still watching and laughing

one man in charge killed his citizens
another man burnt down his house
another man machine gunned his friends

He was puzzled
'do they not need me to taste fear and anguish?'

He watched as men destroyed the earth's lungs
for money
as men stained an ocean for oil
as men burnt the atmosphere away.....

Even he was bored with it all
so he decided to stroll to the dark side of the moon
leaving man to execute themselves into extinction.

<[He tears time like paper.]>

He found a new use for his hands
he tore a slice from the atmosphere
causing a hole
for which a man fell into.

He tore 'today' like men tear paper,
he picked up the sky
from where it sleeps on the earth
and tore darkness into it.

He poked his fingers into the blackness
causing holes so many miles away
that light from other suns shone through,
burning yet more atmosphere from his mind.

To confuse man he dragged yesterday into today
a parallel universe where men
'swore I just saw something'
this amused him.

He hid in a slit he created
between tomorrow
and the day after
and waited to ambush.

Mugging measly men's marbles

He looked to the heavens
but the light was off
the gate bolted shut
a brothel of over achievers.

He sat and pondered
'Did anybody care?'

<[He tries meditation]>

God had taken notice of his whereabouts
he was all powerful now
banishing many angels
to live on earth
causing earthquakes
to rip apart his thoughts.

So he hid
for now
in a cave

'what makes me tick?'
he wondered.

So he put his hand in his head
and pulled out
six marbles
two chairs
a flower...long dead
a tree
ten doves
a fig
fire
and rage
in the form of a beating heart.

'Why so much stuff?'
'Man only has jelly'

So he meditated
counting the breaths
listening to his mind
whispering.....

He pictured a man
sitting on a chair
in an empty room
watching a candle

This man
was picturing
a man
sitting on a chair
in an empty room
watching a candle

He too
was picturing
a man
sitting on a chair
in an empty room
watching a candle....

and so

one hundred fold
this continued

until he threw a stone
with a note tied on it
hard at his mind
so that it hit man 101

this man rubbed his head
and unravelled the note

'think of a dead rabbit'

and so the chain was broken.

<[He hated love.]>

Hiding in a wall in somebody else's mind
he observed the emotion that they called 'love'

he hated it

no matter what carnage
what anger
or destitution was poured upon tiny minds

love found a way through
like a weed through a crack in concrete
seeking the sun
and life
blooming like a pregnant creature
holding out its forgiveness with one hand
and hope in the other.

Love made him spew
it made him want to take 'man'
and tear him a new idea
teach hate
teach despair
show him the path that leads him to greed
keep shooting
keep dismembering
publish hate filled bile
dressed up as religious practices

but never love
because it was the only thing in this world
since he fell from the other
that made him weak.

<[He became a fan of symmetry.]>

Sitting on a hill
naked and proud
(he had much to be proud of)

He became fascinated with the man
who was standing
magnifying glass in hand
burning ants.

Their little bodies,
metallic like monsters
singed beyond comprehension
and he was happy with the man.

This man showed no remorse
for such a murderous event
in fact he even missed
the 'ant' metaphor
in the grand scheme of things
the scurrying
the working
the co habitation
the team building exercise
the queen
the hierarchy
all man saw
all man wanted
was death
through glass and heat.

So on his hill
he stood tall
and instantly became a fan of symmetry
when he picked up a giant looking glass
and burnt this man to toast.

<[That first deal thrashed out.]>

Just before he fell,
(after a kick from God)
They thrashed out a deal.

He sat at a table
with the big man
and talked
about man
his creation
in his form.

"What would you do if you were in charge?"
asked God

He thought for a moment......

"I would create death and destruction
man would murder man
cities would fall
man would want to rule the world
emulating you
and kill so many thousands of men
women and children
because they looked different."

"I would goad mother nature,
telling her that man is destroying her beauty
so that she screamed so loud a tsunami
destroys many towns,
earthquakes tear apart infrastructure
and volcanoes erupt wildly,
like the squeezed acne of her crust."

"I would invent a disease
and call it cancer
that grows inside man
and eats him
weakens him
all the time growing
until one day
man dies
and the cancer dies with him...
although it will survive the burning
as a reminder of my will."

God listened intently
nodding occasionally

"My lord, it would keep the numbers down"
he smirked
God thought for a moment
stroking his wispy beard
then said

"Okay, you can have Mondays"

<[He invented a paint gun.]>

After many moons had passed
many suns burnt his earlobes
ponderous prancing pierced his boredom.

He climbed the tallest structure
paint gun in hand
waiting
impatiently

His first shot hit the sky square in the jaw
and changed blue to grey
this raised a smile

But it didn't sufficiently confuse
disruption and angst yet to be reared

So he fired at man
all of them
He fired yellow
he fired black
he fired brown
he fired pink
he fired beige
he fired orange
he fired white
man scattered, scurried and scampered
heading for the hills
the deserts
the plains
strangely grouping by colour.

Now he knew he had started something,
and was pleased with his work
so many men, so many different colours

Let the intolerance begin
because now you are truly different.

<[Dreaming disasters]>

When he sleeps, he sleeps for decades
away from here physically
but spiritually?
Within spitting distance.

He dreamt about disease
a plague, a virus, starvation,
aids, hate, jealously and his own creation....
madness.

He loved to meddle
sticking a sticky finger into the 'grand scheme'
causing karmas wheel to bite man on the arse.

He was there in the beginning
he witnessed 'adam' and 'eve'
the snake was his pet
still proud it 'entered' eve first
.......still smiling
.......still dreaming

that was then
when sleep was plentiful

but now?

Madness was now his foe

he cannot sleep when his name is uttered
he cannot sleep when his being is worshipped
he cannot sleep when disaster is near
because he loves to watch
then gloat and applaud.

without real thought
he had given himself a job
he had discovered work ethic
he was a 'god'
but only in the eyes of those that spewed hate.

So he sat crossed legged
and watched
as another 'despot' offered a 'grand finale'
in his name.

<[The Tower]>

(He sang a song)

O tower
that place that rots his thoughts
sticks fingers in his mind
breathing blood through flared nostrils
crying shame like death regretful

O tower
a home to store my soul
after tearing from my chest
stamping it into sodden earth, underfoot
creating a more useful 'sole'

O tower
the crevices that store insanity
those bricks made by hooligans
desecrating natures corpses
dripping sinew decoratively

O tower
that phallic residence
where I pulled my heart from my carcass
still beating, turned inside out
stuffed full of worms and eaten

O tower
a place to meet your demons
cause thunder with your bellows
destroy kindness with your emptiness
survive mankind until tomorrow

<[The Butterfly on the end of his nose.]>

Laying ponderously, arms spread wide
in a field crushing flowers
like dreams quashed
by mocking laughs
from indignant foes
of perceived ambition.

A butterfly landed with more grace
than he has ever cared to muster
or has ever witnessed
in all his years
of existing as a cog
(albeit a big one)
in the master plan
that is fate.

On his nose it sat and looked him in the eye.

He sneezed, causing natures insects to pause
take stock
and carry on regardless.

Was he losing his power?

Was man so self absorbed
and tunnelled so far up their own arses
that his meddling, his evil no longer shocked?

The butterfly turned, flapped so quietly and rested
looking him in the eye, without an iota of fear.
He noticed the spots, which pointed to individual personality,
he noticed the light dusting of the wings
the juicy fluffy core, that contained everything that was good.....

For a second he almost warmed to nature
he almost saw that there was another way
another path
goodness

Instead he stuck out a tongue
and pulled the butterfly into his gob
chewing
grimacing
because it tasted like shit.

<[Ponderous pretence.]>

He realised he had aged
significantly
cast from heaven so many false dawns ago
immortality a real possibility.

So, so many years of observations
of meddling and murdering
prancing and dancing
maiming and berating
laughing and beating
always falling back into line
and killing
yet unnoticed by him.

What had I learnt? He pondered

Man was happy to soldier on
generation after generation
working to live
following in fathers footsteps
praying and hoping
yet leading only to dying.

But recently there has been a change
if he was the 'right'
then some men
(only a few)
had moved in his direction
had murdered
had maimed
had berated
and beaten
and laughed

This trodden path
machine like movement
had a few strays
for that he was happy
because if there is good
there will always be evil.

<[Awakening.]>

A fire raged in his mind so fierce
that his eyeballs bled and imploded
as sweat poured from every possible orifice
desperately attempting to extinguish hate fuelled flames.

He crawled and scampered
smashing buildings into mounds of death
ripping throats from non-believers with his bare hands
as hounds sent from above chased and mauled his sodden stumps.

Blood flowed where he had been,
leading him to where he was fleeing
as a storm dismantled his ribcage,
causing him to carry a rotten heart, in a mangled palm.

He looked to the heavens, blinking through darkness
yet his site had long deserted him, the fire had seen to that.

He called on man to help, but could only hear laughing
then finger pointing amongst a world of 'I told you so's'

Nature grabbed an arm, and tore it from it's socket
beating him severely to a road-kill splattering of a former man.

The beast that had long since drove his mind
clambered out from his ear, like a crash victim.

Leaving him in a pile of his own bile and sinew
it began to chew on his exposed lungs.

Those that once sung such wretched tunes
'the tower' his hiding place, came to mind.

'The Tower?!'
He sat upright, bolt upright
checked his heart and his hands
he could see?!
But had he seen too much.
Was this his fate?
Could he ever win against faith?
Was his power now powerless?

<[He has the night, breathing in the darkness.
(the re-birth)]>

To swallow a shadow is to swallow a companion
to relinquish all care to those bowels of despair
launching bile through many orifices
rabbit runs from my heart.

A cherry squashed flat, many times
replays in many minds
as the past digs its claws into your arse.
vomiting any vestige of emotion.

Versatility is merely a meagre life choice
depicted by all men thinking through scrotum,
lest he use grey matter before undercarriage
should he fall foul of wenches.

He remembered being killed....
dismembered beyond remembering,
blood lines forming blurred lines
visage crowning viscera.

Through the blanket ban eyeballs
the scream clenched tight with both hands
the regret encumbering the righteous
he walked tall again, awoken by selfishness.

His poetry in a coma
his purgatory dancing freely.

<[They chanted, they challenged.]>

He stepped down from the nearest star
which had become very uncomfortable
and was moving away too fast
obscuring his vision.

He had also heard them..............

..........Bring
..........death
..........to the
..........devil
burn in your own hell
..........a hell
...........that
...........you
..........made
...........here
............on
..........Earth

Death? Devil?!

He couldn't die
not whilst man
ignited his flames
not while they continued
to pray
to his way,
to walk this earth in singularity
ignoring the other beasts
the vegetation
the oxygen.

He toyed with mocking them,
the obvious choppy chant
that flowed no better
than the filth they wallowed in.

Instead he walked amongst them
and as they cowered collectively
he raised a middle finger
with such magnificence
like a swan
taking flight from a lake
the ripples and the flapping
a real moment of wonder...

he saw fear
he saw regret
he saw cowardice
he saw panic

they saw obscenity.