Hell Bent And Glorious

Hell bent and glorious,
Pleasured on forbidden pleasures.
Weeping children adorn the playgrounds,
Littered like autumn leaves.
Waiting to decompose, fear feeds
Bottomless mouths and pink bellies.
Endless consumption of provoking.
Dark is the light shun upon them,
Harsh is the landscape below them.
Through their feet they feel
The tears of our 'Mother' weeping.

Harassing a picture of perfection, while
On the breath of a fallen angel
We fly to oblivion, unsuspecting!

by Ian Francis O' Reilly

Other poems of O' REILLY (1)

Comments (1)

Great poem! 'We fly to oblivion, unsuspecting! ' was a great closing line to your poem. Writing about death can get congested, but your interpretation of it was refreshing. Well thought out and well executed. -Michael