He watches the lung choke. Fallen Angel 3

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.

****

I have decided to repost these as individual poems, they are taken from my poetry book I published on Amazon.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Fallen-Angel-Mr-Darren-Connor/dp/1492989223

Some of the older members have already read these and I thank them
Just a quick fix to get my number of poems up. I was probably a bit quick publishing, some of these need more work.