Dreadful Sorry: The Better Version

January is behind me,
I've come from the past.
What were you saying about
The grass next door
Before I closed the door, downcast?
I know you won't
Be here again.

As you turn to go.

"Please don't leave."

A glance.

"Baby. Don't move from here,
Don't listen to Them."

Holier Than Thou.

Where does one begin?
Your love lies in the numbers,
And you were always so good at
That vox pop
Bullshit.

Today,
I saw
Jesus in the bottom of the casserole dish.
I scrubbed and I scrubbed but
He
Just turned into
You.

Your mother always said you
Were a good boy.

Dona Eis Requiem Sempiternum.

Latin taken directly from pieces of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's Requiem.
My own interpretation of the biblical horror of the so-called apocalypse,
And what I'd like to do if it ever were to come.
It's a bit of a thinly-veiled, critical, anti-christianity rant, really.
But a well-informed one.


Kyrie eleison.
Christe eleison.
Kyrie eleison.

Lacrimosa dies ilia
Qua resurget ex favilla
Judicandus homo reus.
Huic ergo parce, Deus,
Pie Jesu Domine,
Dona els requiem.


You can feel that,
Dear God, how you can feel that,
A thunderous hum,
Terrible and enticing all at once,
And resentment, shock, horror
Hit you like a wall of water,
But there is no doubt.
For once in your life,
There is complete
Certainty.

Dies irae, dies illa
Solvet saeclum in favilla

And disintegrate to ashes it does,
The whole earth- which you
Considered to be all
That was,
And all that could be-
Is crumbling before your eyes,
And all around you
People are laughing.

"I told you, didn't I?"
Smiles a derelict...

Quantus tremor est futurus
Quando judex est venturus

The Judge, who sits upon Its throne,
With the mass of human population before It.
At first, It was just a blur of white and gold light,
But now you see It,
And 'It' is a man,
Just like the derelict,
But with nostrils flared,
And a billion eyes like cold flame,
And a billion pointing fingers,
A billion ears,
But only one mouth,
With a voice too terrible to hear.

To his right,
Smaller, but glowing twice his size,
Another man sits,
Leaning back, smiling,
Arms open to those of us who trickle through to him.

Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine,
et lux perpetua luceat eis,
cum sanetis tuis in aeternum,
quia plus es.

To his left,
A woman, so tender, and pure, and beautiful,
That you cannot help but stare at her, and
Sob for her,
As she bends her head,
And clasps her hands,
And cries,
For those who are pushed in droves
Away from the smiling young man...

Dona Eis Requiem.
Grant them rest.

Ante diem rationis.

Preces meae non sum dignae,
Sed tu bonus fac benigne,
Ne perenni cremet igne.

Away from the light,
Stands a towering,
Terrible figure,
Neither man,
Nor woman,
But the darkest red of blood,
And none of the wideness of the
Woman's eyes,
But a tightness to them,
Nothing but slits,
And a smiling, sneering mouth.
It is so seductive,
That mouth,
That you, even now,
Wish to run to It,
But yet cannot watch it.
Surrounded by Fire and Ice,
All at once, Freezing and Burning,
And the screams of your kind
Leak from the very innards of this
Being,
So that Its voice
Is made up of a million
Cries for mercy.

Horrified,
You turn your head back to the Lady,
Who smiles sadly,

To the Young Man,
Who bows his head,
Hands on the heads of the worthy,

And finally,
The Judge,
Who suddenly holds your gaze,
And no other,
And
All his ears disappear but two,
And
All his eyes focus on you,
And
His hands lower as the thunders quieten.

And that is the point at which you realise...

You realise that all is lost for you.
And for a billion others,
That only the children
And the very old
May now walk into the temperate warmth,
And all the rest must
Freeze and Burn
At once.

And so you leave The Judge.
And you wave to The Young Man,
And you bow low to The Lady,
And walk to the shimmering,
Nothing Entity,
And hear the patter of feet as
A billion others follow you.
As you reach the edge of the light,
Just one woman waits,
A woman of no virtue,
She still glows like an angel,
And her skin is the purest white.
She asks why you walk away from judgement
While you yet still have a chance at eternal happiness,
For just the price of ruefulness.

And you tell her
That if The Judge truly created you and all others
With a sense of Free Will,
And let you and all others exercise that will,
Then certainly,
Now, if ever, was the best time to show The Judge
What you could make of that gift.

"Lady," You say, "I will not subject myself to all of his whims,
Only to be further told to beg His forgiveness for my
Sinful Soul,
And lie, contrite and grateful, at his feet, for all eternity.
He will observe me as I use his gift to the best of my abilities."

And the thunder follows you as you brush past the lady,
And walk to the right-hand
Of Your Own Will.

(The Judge: God
The Smiling Man: Jesus
The Crying Woman: The Madonna
The Being of Fire and Ice: Lucifer
The Woman of No Virtue: Mary Magdalene
You: ...?)

LRS reprise.

There's a circle made of red,
On the wall above my bed,

It sits there on its own,
In the corner of my eye,
And I dial on the phone,
Tell the lady I'll just die.

She tells me that I ought calm down,
But while she talks I hear a sound,

The circle turns to me with a sigh,
Says "Take me down I need a break,"
Says "I just want to see you smile."
I'm trying to pinch myself awake.

The story of the Little Red Screw.

There's a circle made of red,
On the wall above my bed,

It sits there on its own,
In the corner of my eye,
And I dial on the phone,
Tell the lady I'll just die.

And I've never known its use,
And although it's no excuse,

I can say I never need it,
But one day when it's gone away,
And it's just a little knit
In the wall, I'll only see grey.

Eyes Bluer than I.

Ha. I didn't actually mean to rhyme half of the last paragraph.
It was honestly %100 an accident.
I'm a poet and I don't even know it.


"I need my thoughts louder,
These days they're all
Whispers and mumbles,
Like teens at the back of a bus.
They are mindful of the ears that surround them,
Deliberate, astute.

And this is why I said
I feel like a criminal in my own head,
Eavesdropping on my own thoughts,
Catching only half-words
Of my very own dreams,
In my very own pipes.

And, petite blue,
How I wonder at you,
With your aptitude for hearing my words
Clearer than I do,
When suddenly I'm split in two;
When our eyes lock across the room."

It's half past nine,

To pass the time,
Might you melt your
Fillings into rings?

The night is old,

To fill the cold,
Might you burn your
Scriptings in the wings?

Dreadful Sorry.

January is behind me,
I've come from the past.
You said
"We will not
Leave this place.
We will not
Go from here."
You said
"Baby, don't listen.
Don't move."

Like a Train.

Ash that spirals in the air
Will go on to settle
By the unmoved stones of
Iron tracks.
You dip your eyes against
The ash,
And the glinting of a
Window in cold morning light.
The train twists like a snake,
Thundering.
Scattering the ash by the stones.

The ants panic, like they
Don't know
Any better.
As if this doesn't happen...
Every
Six
Minutes.

You swear that you love this,
The cold existance,
The long-limbed
Women with well-built
Men, But your mind
Lingers for a moment on
The scorching heat of the
not-quite desert,
And a
Snake
That twists through the grass.
Like a train.