from an epic speed-written poem?


title of poem: INFERNOES     inspired by Dante's Divine Comedy...



            The middle of hell refines death  And smacks the faces of this child.
      Babies mourn the dreams  Of their parents. Heaven may not
      Delve its death. I die now.

      Hell is filled with bees  And bees devour their hives. Pots of honey rove
      The sun. Hell is filled with Wasps. The hairs of women  Darken passions with the
      Enamoured curates of the
      Killed. My mind is spent.

      Eyes break up and men Seize foresight from the  Words of love. Fused,
      Stars burn out. Denial Drowns effusiveness in
      Blood. My blood tests Hades-red.

      The flowers in hell have heads Which behave like ghosts. Ghosts are phantoms and ghosts
      Host parties for the thrilled. This mad mind denotes the thrilled
      As shadows of fun dance and play. The stride of this world ends
      The earth. The quietus made by men  Who lead the dance because they
      Have no home must interact With times that shorten breath.
      This house is filled with lions. Cats sleep inside their clawed fires.
      Eyes peer from out the windows
      Of raped kids, and defiance
      Shapes the snatches of the void.

      Lust curates the playing-fields  Of love. If sense has died away
      Please accept that passion must  Rue the day it chooses for
      Revival. Christ is dead and gone.

      Fires are thrilled by enemas. Pangyrics spill from out death's wall. Anodynes to murder split
      God's mind. The centre of the sun Reveals a star condemned by
      The murdered masons of the soul. If man travels beyond light
      He shall find a second earth  Contained in the embers of a third
      Mind. Venus calls to her friends.

          Death flows with sucrose and  Dextrose. The sirens of the killed Rise up from the pogroms of the West.
      Lithe eyes peer from the nest of love.
      Death flows with shrouded felines. The wars of this world pandecate the culled
      Laws of the misbegotten maimed.

      There is no ode for the cocked hell-raped?



this is a brief extract... Copyright jim bellamy 2004..