In The Devil’s Lair, We Never Sleep
something was turning around in his mind, a thought, a scratch that he couldn’t reach
having sight but the shadows painted blind
mirrored the voices, shackled in speech
defenseless against the darkness that crawled under his skin, soft flesh was tormented by disease
echoed the pain within,
hurling over thousand shades of unease
the nightmares had returned, sleepless nights filling his veins with guilt and dread
shapeless moments quickly got burnt, fomented creation of hell inside his head
insanity knocked on the doors, vile tongues as if shattered glass floating in his bloodstream, payback was signed by demon himself
chunks of flesh scattered around the heaven floors, all rotten souls preserved soundless scream and lost their ways in classic death fermentation before the twelve
he fell to the floor, limbs twisted and bent, angels and demons both calling his name, what he had done, left a mark, an edge cutting knife under the skull
tracing old war, when everything was never meant, days of glory, like a dying flame, barely lighted up his lifeless hull
redemption, the angels sang,
cleaned your wounds, mended the broken bones
shouted out the holy light,
confused, he tried not to hear
devoured by the sins —
a luscious delight of the impending doom
damnation, the demons sang,
crawled across my ground, unleashed my hellish moans
soared high in the hollow night
where benevolence was left abused,
“now, clench your fear
dig deep into your wounded skin
strain your eyes, peer into the gloom”
the night drifted into a finale
yet the nightmares were reluctant to quit
cemented into his subconscious, ruthless killers of faith
body squirming, muscles in spasms
*another day arisen, foul sinner*
find your hope
or the endless turmoil of torments shall never end
something was turning around in his ever-fleeting reality,
a bottomless pit with its troubled wit
which smothered him senseless
so brilliantly obnoxious, a persephonic wraith
in symphonic bastardisation of his scriptural orgasms
taunting the angelic brigadier into existence in a dewlit morning like a pompous winning loser
walking the notochord of corporeal slob —
the lone(ly) sheep-clothed wolf barely felt content.
Chocolate brown eyes with their wide, penchant stare;
Full, soft lips accompanied by flecks of dried skin;
A smile so captivating it could shatter the earth,
A love so true it condemns the sky to bathe in crimson.
Silken black hair tumbling in free patterns;
Skin warm enough to thaw the pain of a lover;
Tender kisses existing to unite salt with the sea,
A love so true it could only end with the beckoning ferryman.
Heart wide enough to encompass the stars;
Mind sharp enough to cleave cliffs into chasms;
Hands skilled in silent song as they pluck out ancient melodies,
A love so true it endows pinions to an everlasting flight.
I'd rather be myself in hell,
than who you want me to be in heaven.
I’m Coming For You
Devil squats on my shoulder
As his eyes pried into my darkness
he shouted, “from me, came you!”
acid rain voice shredded my flesh
from my bones, blood trickles
unwashed tears terrorizing my mind.
‘Beware my snares in the dark,’ devil chants.
’I’m coming for you
you will soar no more
I’ll manipulate your mind
and snare your soul.”
His crucifix shouted, “six, six, six!”
Devil in brine, dips wetly in mine
wanting to plant his devilish seed
eaten raw, he consumed my love
speaking in unknown tongues
a summons to hell before
making landfall on devil wings.
Devil’s shadow blocks my light
invasion of bully into my brain
circle of fog around his head
“Come with me to Hellfire realm!”
instilling black thoughts and red blotches.
Upon my back, he snapped his whip
“I’m your sugar Daddy, open your legs!”
He rode my soul, tearing my life.
Lungful of lies poisoning the breezes
ravenous teeth leaving road map
upon torn and screaming flesh.
I close my eyes and tell myself over and over
He only exists within your head
His fantasies should not be fed
I am not the devil and he is not I
I’ll fight darkness and will not die!
Face to Face (Angels Among Us)
Feathers bristle flesh and bone
Pierced with vanes like arrows
Bequeathing gifts, authored, unknown;
Manna feeds our marrow
Whispered words, once clouded, dim;
Enveloped, satin shades
Melodic hum of ancient hymns
Speaks peace to souls, afraid
Fanning ember’s dying flame
Sustaining weak and weary
Answered prayers of fragile framed
Winged messengers shant tarry
While cherub tears lap ash as sand
Like oceans ebb and flow
On silvered stairs that stretch to land
Seraph journey low
Feet, once treading golden streets
Gather, watching grace;
Heaven kissing earth, beneath
Among us, face to face
Bill Pulte is an angel among us!
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Angel Under Shatterproof Glass
Yesterday, today, tomorrow,
I find her perfectly preserved
and waiting for me
in a world under my finger,
just outside my grasp,
so close that I know
this will be the moment
that I finally touch her.
This will be the moment
that my grey eyes
joyfully drowning in blue light
finally see her love,
real and raw and warm,
instead of an oh-so-realistic
pixelation of the truth -
the mirage I always mistake
for honesty until
that very last moment
when I realize my finger,
starved for touch,
no matter how desperately it reaches,
through shatterproof glass
to touch her wings
on the other side.
Demons and Angels
He was black as night.
Blended perfectly as he crept into estates under a quarter moon to steal valuable property.
To topple the empires of prominent, respected citizens.
They called him The Demon. Wreaking havoc on the town.
Luke Parker wouldn’t have it. Pictured himself and Angel of Justice as he pulled on his white robe and swept into the night.
His friends ran to meet him. A dozen of them in billowing ivory.
“Tonight’s the night,” he said to them. “He’s coming, I can feel it.” The Demon would not steal his property.
His friends nodded and they dispersed into the night, taking up posts at all his iron gates, built into log walls twice as tall as a grown man, with wicked spikes at the top.
Those walls protected Luke’s valuable assets. Kept thieves out… and kept them in.
He scanned the darkness as he stood outside the gate, listening to the buzz of insects and rustle of leaves, on the alert for a snapping twig or crunch of leaves.
Doesn’t matter which entrance you come to, Demon. He spun his handgun. We’ll be waiting.
But the next noise didn’t come from the forest ahead. It came from behind. Muffled.
On the other side of the gate.
Pounding. Footsteps. Shouting.
No! How did they…
The gate flew open just as he spun to face it, sending him stumbling backwards.
Shouts rang in his ears and dark figures rushed at him like shadows, dozens of them, with jagged sticks, dull shovels and hoes.
Pain cracked across his hand and his gun flew from his grip.
Another flash of agony through the head sent him staggering to his hands and knees, dark world spinning. They surrounded him, kicking, punching, swinging jagged weapons. Every blow sharp and devastating.
“Stop!” he screamed.
“Enough!” shouted a deep voice at the same moment.
The beating ceased instantly. Luke’s attackers backed off and allowed him to struggle to his feet.
His ears rang, his head pounded, and the world wouldn’t stop spinning. But still, Luke managed to stay standing on shaky legs. Pulled off his white hood of Justice and stared round at his attackers.
Jamal stalked through the freed slaves and stood in front of the man of ghostly white robes. He didn’t look so intimidating without that pointed hood. They never did.
“These are my property!” he screamed, normally white face going red. “Thief! Demon!”
Jamal swung his jagged branch onto his shoulder, dark eyes soldering with the anger of an entire people. “They ain’t yours, slaver. And I’m not takin them. I’m freeing them.”
A great cheer rose from the crowd.
“I got more backup round here,” the slaver said, and spat blood at Jamal’s feet. “You won’t get a mile.”
“A dozen men in white,” Jamal said. “Yes, I know. Neutralized.”
For the first time, the slaver’s eyes showed true terror. “You…”
“They aren’t dead,” Jamal said, and held out a hand to stay the crowds as they closed in. “And we’re not killin you, either.”
A few of the freed slaves looked at him.
He did not return their gazes. Kept his eyes fixed on the slaver. “You know why, boy?”
He only grunted. An ape-like sound.
“Cause we’re better than that. Now you tell me, who is The Demon?”
Without another word, he and the freed slaves faded into the night.
And I accepted
“Send me your daughter and I will be yours”,
Those words haunt me daily.
It was exciting at sixteen
To imagine the Devil’s daughter,
Naked and flaming
Her eyes glowing,
Her horns growing
As she took me to another world.
Of course it never happened.
Until I was forty.
She was sensuous,
She was sexy
She was interested in me.
I never stopped to wonder why.
She laughed at my jokes,
She complimented my smile,
She touched my hand
And kissed my neck.
Blinded and flattered
She was angelic
But her passions heightened,
Her eyes flashed red
I could see flames in them.
Shaking her wild hair and baring her teeth
With a flash of white.
My hands went to her head, as I thrashed below her
On the bed.
I felt the horns emerge, before I saw them
I watched them growing slowly
It was exciting and sexual
As she rode me hard
Her tale elongated, waving and curling
“This is it.”
My long forgotten wish.
Suddenly we passed
Through time and space
Surrounded by the flames of Hell
Demons in ecstasy around us
In orgasmic throes
Echoes of our own elation.
We roared, we bucked, we kissed
Reaching the peak together as I filled her,
The Devil’s Daughter,
With my love.
I blacked out.
The flames faded,
Darkness covered me.
In the morning I woke.
She was there.
I kissed her neck,
Un-scared by the demons of Hell.
She turned and kissed my lips
“You are mine.”
And I accepted.
Listen For My Hymn
My tears rain on the suffering world below me
Tyrants’ tongues fan the ignorant flames of hell
Refuse strangles God's creations under the sea
The blood of millions boils under War's savage spell
Cowards hide behind digital walls and people shrink in despair
Yet listen for my hymn drifting softly on the summer breeze
A prayer of hope calling to His children swirls in the air
Be still tonight - let my soothing touch put you at ease
Smell my floral fragrance as I caress your restless soul
Take my hand and we'll glide on a path to glory
Come let me show you joys that will make you whole
Spurn the anguish and distraction and listen to my story
Heed heaven's message and find the good in the world
Reach into my spectral heart and grasp my holy power
A love that began so tiny, now is blinding might unfurled
Let my faith warm you ’til you bloom like a divine flower
Carry my promise and smash your brothers’ bonds of deceit
Now’s the time to reforge that trust lost so long ago
Share a bit of heaven and let Man taste what’s just and sweet
Soar high with my spirit and let your love for others show
Mary and ’Stoph
“I am bored,” the demon muttered.
“Lighten up, ’Stoph,” Mary replied far too cheerily.
“Do not call me that.”
“Don’t call you what?” Mary asked, her tone dripping with playfulness. “’Stoph?”
“Must we play this game, child?” the demon grumbled.
“What’s wrong with ’Stoph? We’ve been together for what,” Mary pretending to be counting on her fingers, “a long fucking time, now, and you still won’t tell me your name. I have to call you something. I figured you’d like Mephistopheles. From, uh…”
The demon sighed. “Faust.”
“Right, Faust. So, what’s wrong with ’Stoph? He was a big deal right? Agent of the devil and all that.”
“Just… do not.”
“Or what?” Mary prodded, “…’Stoph.” Mary’s bladder seized suddenly sending an abrupt warm spurt of urine into her panties.
“Oh, fuck you,” Mary hissed through clenched teeth. Most of the dialogue carried between the two unwilling companions occurred internally, sounding as hushed words spoken in the bottom of a deep well. But the sudden uncontrollable pissing caused her to inadvertently say this out loud.
“Asshole,” she said, returning to their shared internal speech. At the word, her anus flexed involuntarily, and her stomach bubbled violently. “No, no, no!” she sputtered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I was just messing around.” The demon chuckled quietly, satisfied his point had been made. His laugh sounded of two large rocks being scraped together in stops and starts. Mary’s bodily functions quickly returned to some semblance of normal.
Normal was, of course, relative for a woman occupied by a demon for nearly a century. He had wooed her with whispered fantasies of righteous revenge on a cheating boyfriend in her late teen years as she spent a lonely heartbroken autumn watching the occasional Ford Model T drive by her stoop like some inconceivable magic machine. She kept her hair boobed back then and kept a secret short skirt under her mattress for when her parents were away, working or trying to find work. She wanted so much to be like the flappers, those free-spirited women who flaunted their feminine power unashamedly, drinking and smoking like the boys and fuck anyone who had a problem with it. But her parents would have wept tears of blood if they ever saw her knees peeking out from under that secret skirt.
The demon, of course, found her discontentment to be a ripe opportunity. Still, it took him another decade to move in completely. In Mary’s twenties, he finally attempted full possession and that is when matters took an unusual turn. He had not considered that her parents were Catholic by convention if not observation and dutifully had Mary baptized shortly after birth. As a result of an unfortunate technical oversight on his part, the demon became fused to Mary’s soul, unable to leave her and unable to take over completely. He was stuck. Forever.
For Mary’s part, this was extremely disconcerting, at least initially. She endured this unending desperate raging voice screaming the most awful things in her head and she was powerless to shut it out. Soon, the demon had realized he had some degree of power over her and consoled himself with torturing Mary in childish ways. This often involved involuntarily voiding her bowels, random blindness, or sending her into the deep throws of powerful orgasms in very public and inconvenient places.
On an unbearably hot and humid night in the late summer of 1934, no longer able to endure the demon’s tantrums, Mary threw herself from the roof of the six-story tenement building in which her family had been living. The demon, for his part, laughed the whole way down. He stopped laughing abruptly when she struck the pavement, breaking her neck, fracturing her skull and snapping one arm and both her legs. He felt every ounce of the indescribable pain as if it were his own body broken and bleeding into the moonlit gutter. It dawned on him then that if she died, he would cease to be as well.
So, he kept her alive. He had helped her bones and flesh knit back together, slowly, painfully. He also realized that she was not powerless against him and Mary now understood this as well. An uneasy and unspoken truce was made that day and they had lived together as reasonably as possible ever since, the demon growing more and more cynical and disinterested, Mary ageless and undying.
“What is he doing?” Mary asked, seemingly over their last encounter now that the piss in the crotch of her pants was drying. She was surreptitiously eyeing a man rocking in choregraphed synchronization with the rest of the passengers in the subway car.
“Who cares?” the demon replied.
“He’s acting strange,” she said. The man was leering intermittently at a woman seated nearby nursing her baby beneath a small lavender blanket draped over her shoulder. Looking more closely, Mary realized that the blanket had slipped just enough to expose the soft pale side of the woman’s engorged breast. The man would grin and then cover his mouth, looking away suddenly then, just as quickly, look back.
“Pervert,” she said.
“Many men rather enjoy breasts. Is this news to you?” the demon asked lazily.
Mary rolled her eyes, which she supposed made her look a little strange to casual observers. “No, it’s not news to me,” she said mockingly. “He’s just… I don’t know… being more pervy about it than you might expect.”
She sweetened her inner voice, suddenly. “You know, you could just…”
“No,” the demon interrupted.
“What?” she asked, feigning indignation. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“Really?” the demon asked exasperatedly.
“Ok, maybe you did,” she acknowledged. “Look, couldn’t you just reach out and see what’s going on behind those rotten peepers? It sure would make me feel better.”
“Oh, come on! When is the last time I asked you to do any of your demon act?”
“This morning. At breakfast.”
“The oil splashed you and burned your hand. I healed it.”
“Oh, bullshit,” Mary said. “That hurt you too.”
“Why in the world would I bother? I sincerely hope he begins violently masturbating right here on the subway. It might break up the monotony.”
“You are so fucking messed up,” The constant bargaining always wore gratingly on Mary but she knew it was expected. “What do you want?”
“Whatever could you mean?” the demon replied coyly.
“Stop fucking around. What’s it going to be this time? Male or female?” Mary asked, prodding impatiently. The demon often required some sort of act on Mary’s part that was either immoral, illegal, or more often than not just degrading and distasteful. Mary had grown accustomed to it decades ago and could no longer find the will to be appalled at what the demon thought of as entertainment employing the casual use of Mary’s body.
“Hmm,” the demon considered. The leering man began tapping his foot nervously and was no longer trying to conceal his enrapture at the scene in front of him. “Canine.”
“For shit’s sake, I’m not fucking a dog.”
“Ok, then kill one… painfully.”
“What is wrong with you? No!”
“Ok,” the demon grumbled, his disappointment obvious. “Male,” the demon said. “No, female.”
“Which is it?” Mary said frustration building while she continued to eye the creep across from her.
“Both?” She sighed.
Mary shook her head. “Fine,” she conceded. “But, only if I find willing participants.”
Immediately, she felt the demon’s presence unspool from her in sickly tentacles, reaching for the man. Mary could see the demon’s manifestation as a yellow-green vapor, but he was invisible to all but her. The green spiraling branches surrounded the man’s head like a gauzy hood.
“Hee hee hee,” the demon giggled. “Oh, this is… fantastic!”
“What?” Mary asked, her inner voice carrying her irritation heavily.
“Well,” the demon said softly while the tendrils of vapor retreated back into Mary’s body. “You need not worry for mommy. He has no interest in breasts.”
“Then what’s his deal?”
“Oh, that’s fucked up,” Mary said, looking disgusted. She supposed offhandedly that breastmilk was a natural thing in the right context; but the visual that came unbidden to her mind made a bit of breakfast threaten its return.
“No, no,” the demon said, still giggling. “I told you he has no interest in her ample provisions. His tastes lean more toward a certain sort of, well… veal.” This time, a healthy portion of breakfast did make the trip up and Mary quickly swallowed it back down.
“He wants to eat the baby?” she asked unbelievingly.
“Indeed,” the demon answered. She knew he was not lying. He could not, in fact. It was a strange side effect of their fusion. “He plans to take the child at the next stop.”
“New deal,” she said, a new rage boiling in her chest.
“No changing the deal now,” the demon growled warningly. “Sexual congress with one male, one female, at the same time. Anal optional. A promise has been made.”
“No one said anything about anal,” she started offhandedly. “It doesn’t matter. How would you feel about a murder, instead?” Her eyes were boring hard into the monster across the aisle.
“Oh,” the demon said genuinely surprised as their smiles merged as one. “Agreed.”
To be continued…