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SAO LILDOOP

Plea of the Godly

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Title: Plea of the Godly 

 

Begone thou bygone admonition, asperser of mine ambition, bite thy tongue and holler for by noon you'll lie in squalor. 

These streets I tread are filled with dead, livestock, human, interbred. Mangled corpses moan and wail, though their cries for pity all but fail. 

In my hand hold I a coin, a choice, a reputation. And as if by some divine intervention, upon its face do I chance my reflection. 

What lies yonder these pathetic streets, gold in hand feasting upon sordid meats? Nay I say, I won't fall prey, to Christ's temptation, not today. 

I scrounge for naught but mine own gain, but I scrounge nonetheless, what a freeing pain. Now dirt does these my duds besmirch, yet you'll see me on my knees in church. 

And with Mother Mary's gaze upon me I'll petition not for piety nor pity; I'll plead not for salvation nor money. For mine own divine tenacity I bow the knee and bleed; 

Though banefully ugly , I would never concede. These mutterings leave my mouth as shields barring me from heaven's yields. I pray alone for I am lonely, praying only for mine own story. 

Hath God not bestowed upon this mortal form all? Would I truly wish Him from heaven's throne fall? Nay, thanksgiving is the only tonic He will taste, the only sacrifice I will baste. 

In mine hands clench I the dust to which again return I must. And in mine eyes a tear doth furrow for humanity is just so.

 This writhing heat upon my palms, diluting under the slightest pressure, this is mans qualms; societies indenture. This shrinking weakness caking my wrist is nothing less than my wife's lustful tryst. 

Let it come, the frightsome black kingdom, wherein doth plague drown the hag, Mary. Why doth the ground rumble, doth the second coming's trumpet hark? Nay, for the church's crumble; their candles burnt out and all's gone dark. 

This vision I see everyday in the most wearisome to the most wealthy of company; for despite their facade's they will all fall prey to devilry.

Am I yet the only one holy? Mothers Mary's rosary chills me to the bone, Christ's pain ignites my blood in flame. So close to my breast hold I his name, yet am I not one in the same? 

The difference lies within for with the multitude tis a game. "Deliver the sick, cure the lame", you've only yourselves to blame. Seek and ye will find, yet an evil sign not thine, appears before thee now. 

Yet in the cradle of my hand rests abundant mammon, enough to cure thee of thine deserving famine. But what good would charity do now for a faithless sycophantic sow? 

I bid thee well, adieu, ye erroneous apostate and command thee grovel in thine gluttonous state. The taste of blood and sedition of gore is all you now adore. Satan's whore, flagellation will do thee good no more. 

 

Related Bible Verses (KJV): Psalm 82:6-8; Philippians 4:13; Matthew 7:6, 14; 16:4; 17:20; 25:14-30. 

 

Note: The above verses lend great value in the interpretation of this poem so I would advise you read them if you have time. 

 

♥~Always remember, you are having a great day~♥

-LILDOOP

 

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