Tag: Angel

Last Call

On By Dennis McHaleIn Motivational, Photgraphy, Poetry, Relationships, Speaking, Uncategorized, WritingLeave a comment

Image

Last night, as I lay muddled,
in my whiskey-soaked slumber,
A wraith-like mist appeared;
blue-black and musty scented
in tattered rags dipped in dust.

My burning sleep-clenched eyes
could not squeeze the scepter gone.
Her orbs, two onyx stones
set above translucent cheeks;
her mouth, a gaping maw
spewing ruby-red flames.
She floated on an icy breeze
scented with blood and bitters.

“Last call!” she hissed,

pouring me two bony fingers
of amber absolution,
judgment oozing from
her snake-coiled tongue.
I listened to the familiar tinkle
of liquefied reasoning cascading
across ice-cubed rebuttals.

Fear terrorized me,
stroking my belly with cold hands.
My gut curveting far and high
like smoke-flecked stallions
raking the coal black sky
with their steel-sparked shoes.

the earth reached up
with vise-gripped soiled fingers
grasping my naked ankles
and pulled down my saturated bones;
my drunken soul laid out and set
beneath lichen-laced granite.

Jagged stone-edged knives etched
my name and this,
the year of my drunken descent.

Last Call

On By Dennis McHaleIn Motivational, Poetry, Relationships, Speaking, Uncategorized, Writing2 Comments

Image

Last night, as I lay muddled,
in my whiskey-soaked slumber,
A wraith-like mist appeared;
blue-black and musty scented
in tattered rags dipped in dust.

My burning sleep-clenched eyes
could not squeeze the scepter gone.
Her orbs, two onyx stones
set above translucent cheeks;
her mouth, a gaping maw
spewing ruby-red flames.
She floated on an icy breeze
scented with blood and bitters.

“Last call!” she hissed,

pouring me two bony fingers
of amber absolution,
judgment oozing from
her snake-coiled tongue.
I listened to the familiar tinkle
of liquefied reasoning cascading
across ice-cubed rebuttals.

Fear terrorized me,
stroking my belly with cold hands.
My gut curveting far and high
like smoke-flecked stallions
raking the black sky
with their steel-sparked shoes.

the earth reached up
with vise-gripped soiled fingers
grasping my naked ankles
and pulled down my saturated bones;
my drunken soul laid out and set
beneath lichen-laced granite.

Jagged stone-edged knives
etched my name
and this, the year of my drunken descent.

Armageddon of Faith

On By Dennis McHaleIn Motivational, Poetry, Relationships, Uncategorized, War, Writing2 Comments

Dark_Angel_by_LordHannu-72619-1

 

When the Angel of Death extends his wing
And Heavenly stars fall into their black holes;
And Angels no longer sing;
When Mountains to dust once more descend
And the Stain of Original Sin eviscerates the soul;
When breath of Man is sucked from his great chest
And His hopes and joys are laid to eternal rest.
Then shall our eyes, in one final moment, see
It’s all been a Celestial mockery! To wit:

Life has been damned from the beginning
And meaning is but a vaporous fog that leads nowhere.
Christ wasted upon Roman cross,
yet the wooden nails pierce us all;
we the lost and faceless children of Golgotha.
While God, the coward, dances to hopeless praise
And we, our feet planted in jagged stone,
Give way to bended knee and broken bone
At last falling upon bleeding palms! And mutter thus:

Oh God! Oh God! Why have you forsaken me?
When I have betrothed my life, my heart and soul to thee;
The free will that you’ve given me recoils beneath your vengeful rod.
Blighted love, as fire rages through Eden’s gates,
His Celestial image consumed in the belly of the snake;
We, the children of Adam, cursed and abandoned
Have stormed Heaven and cast God to earth
And locked Him in temples…worshiping His bones.
Will not the Saints in pious verse compose
His holy eulogy? Lay granite praise upon His
Grave, and silence these babbling Prophets!

The warm embrace of Hell awaits the faithful
And the wretched alike; Heaven is but a cloudy
Cauldron pouring souls into a molten sea;
Feathers floating down from the torn
Wings of the Heavenly Host.
Fate draws the darkened veil upon mankind
and the gates of paradise, with resounding contempt,
slam profoundly shut.

 

Fallen Angel

On By Dennis McHaleIn Poetry, Relationships, Uncategorized, Writing4 Comments

tear

He writes for a fallen angel
but the rhymes don’t appear,
not in words, but in stilted

verse, in outpourings of
watered down love. She spreads
her wings and hunts the night.

What the poet will not write is,
You hunger for your father’s love;
It never was, but may you find

through the spilling of my ink
Some noble affection upon
which to rest. But I cannot touch

your pain. He drinks a toast
to the memory of her beauty.
No one wants her faded

charms this night. She stands
beneath a waning moon

with a single tear, a cigarette
from her too red un-kissed lips.
The cars no longer slow

down to guess her meaning.
She traces a vein
to where the needles brought

peace a million times.
I hear your poem, thank you
but I must be home to
where the razor whispers.

My Lover

On By Dennis McHaleIn Motivational, Poetry, Speaking, Uncategorized, WritingLeave a comment

tumblr_med787bImB1rvaaqfo1_500

I’ve spent my nights in silent yearning
For a beautiful love that will not perish
And she who will soon come to me
In the time of soft plum-blossoms
When the air is full of songbirds singing
And the sky is a delicate caress;
She will come
With a mist of stars about her
And great beckoning plumes of smoke
Upon her leaping horses.
And she will bend suddenly and clasp me;
She will clutch me with fierce arms
And stab me with a kiss like a wound
That bleeds slowly.
But though she will hurt me at first
In her strong gladness
She will soon soothe me gently
And cast upon me an unbreakable sleep
Softly forever.

Armegeddon of Faith

On By Dennis McHaleIn Uncategorized2 Comments

Image

When the Angel of Death extends his wing
And Heavenly stars fall into their black holes;
And Angels no longer sing;
When Mountains to dust once more descend
And the Stain of Original Sin eviscerates the soul;
When breath of Man is sucked from his great chest
And His hopes and joys are laid to eternal rest.
Then shall our eyes, in one final moment, see
It’s all been a Celestial mockery! To wit:

Life has been damned from the beginning
And meaning is but a vaporous fog that leads nowhere.
Christ wasted upon Roman cross,
yet the wooden nails pierce us all;
we the lost and faceless children of Golgotha.
While God, the coward, dances to hopeless praise
And we, our feet planted in jagged stone,
Give way to bended knee and broken bone
At last falling upon bleeding palms! And mutter thus:

Oh God! Oh God! Why have you forsaken me?
When I have betrothed my life, my heart and soul to thee;
The free will that you’ve given me recoils beneath your vengeful rod.
Blighted love, as fire rages through Eden’s gates,
His Celestial image consumed in the belly of the snake;
We, the children of Adam, cursed and abandoned
Have stormed Heaven and cast God to earth
And locked Him in temples…worshiping His bones.
Will not the Saints in pious verse compose
His holy eulogy? Lay granite praise upon His
Grave, and silence these babbling Prophets!

The warm embrace of Hell awaits the faithful
And the wretched alike; Heaven is but a cloudy
Cauldron pouring souls into a molten sea;
Feathers floating downward from the torn
Wings of the Heavenly Host.
Fate draws the darkened veil upon mankind
and the gates of paradise, with resounding contempt,
slam profoundly shut.

The Descent of An Angel

On By Dennis McHaleIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Angels Descent

A radiant and gentle angel, from the heavens high,
Descended kindly to our world and hovered in the sky.
She let her beauty shine for man – alight with wisdom’s gleams;
But men were blind as deaf as dumb to the wonders of the scene.

She clipped her wings and lost her glow; descended to the sands.
Her bare feet touched the wave-worn beach – her book still in her hands.
She preached the holy scriptures though some meanings she forgot.
Her white robes still a bit too bright for men t’accept the thoughts.

She donned their robes; encased her feet. Her hair she let disheveled.
She dulled her seething intellect to meet them at their level.
She ‘scribed that book to parchments plain, but what a heavy cost –
Pretentious were their writing forms that much the depth was lost.

She walked towards the nearest town to share the final creeds.
Men were, before they glanced a word, suspicious of her deeds.
They felt perplexed; thus, it was wrong – dismissed unless explained.
She tried to wake that well of depth – soon knew it was in vain.

She’d left her glory in the sky; now lost upon the land.
Enlightened revelations she could no longer understand.
Now cursed is she, like fallen stars to starfish on the sand,
To walk the earth, amongst these fools, as just another man.