Forgotten Angels and The Devil's Scribe

from by Ides of Winter



~ A simple story of a wanderer who happens upon a structure built from the compiled naked bodies of angels. Right at home inside, we find the Devil and her many demoness companions. As the only male there, the crafty Devil makes him an offer: In exchange for his soul, he may live out his days in their over-estrogenated palace as her personal scribe.
I wonder did he ever miss his soul?



By candle light I commit to written word, not to warn or recruit,
Just a braggarts tale of one lose, and lived more than a king.

I should have know better, but my conscious sleeps.
Before is desert these walls, dust will claim my bones.

On an autumn eve a younger version of me stumbled through the void between.
A chanced upon a most horrid sight.
A keep built from feathered end, and there a woman grabbed my hand.
And gently lead me through the gates to hell.

Their funeral on stage, stacked up so heavenly,
A host of forgotten names.

Oh how their eyes glisten.
Their fertile walls do please...

One by one the lovely dead embraced. A vile fortress to mock gods name.
Frozen solid and embossed in sin.
Where women play and never age, their witchcraft flows through my veins,
The mortal fare, I so gladly paid,

Their funeral on stage, stacked up so heavenly
My pages fade. As light dims at the end of my days.
Darkness replaces all names.

A host of forgotten names.


from Minus Twenty°, released May 7, 2016



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