THE MESSENGERS



Deep in the shadows
Stand the messengers of death,
The messengers of Hell.

Satan's couriers
Fly out into the dark night,
To visit your dreams.

You see dancing figures
In the flickering fire,
Leaping out at you.

In the pale moonlight
Dreadful figures are dancing,
Just beyond your sight.

You see a shadow
In the corner of your eye,
But then it is gone.

Silently they stand
As invisible as death,
Delighting in your fear.

You sold your soul
For mere fortune and fame,
But now the creditor calls.

Arising slowly
From his fiery bed,
Satan has awakened.

He sent his messengers
Out to do his bidding,
Into the dead of night.

Satan yearns for
Yet another soul,
A very special one this time.

He sees a preacher
Molesting a very young girl,
And laughs with glee.

The girl staggers home
And murders both her parents,
With a woodsman's axe.

The messengers rise
From the netherworld,
To collect the young girl.

Then the preacher man
Is called upon next,
So he can pay his dues.

A shapely beauty
With long, flowing red hair,
Is brought before Satan.

He takes the woman
To be his satanic bride,
Against her free will.

In a matter of days
The woman conceives and,
Carries Satan's child.

A son to the Devil
Is soon to be born,
The true Antithesis.

Then the woman revolts
Killing herself, and also
Taking the child's life.

So the messengers
Fly to steal another woman,
To take her place.

But the doors are locked
The windows all shuttered,
As though people suspect.

Into the still of night
The messengers enter,
A stately old manor.

The householders hear
Eerie sounds in the basement,
The maid goes to check.

The maid is captured
By the evil messengers,
Who put her to death.

Then one by one
The residents are murdered,
After being molested.

Still no woman is found
Who is fully suitable,
To bear Satan's child.

To another house
Go the messengers,
To fill the evil behest.

They reach a villa
Occupied by a party,
Of fourteen people.

The Devil makes them
Swear out an evil pledge,
Or they all will be killed.

"If each one of you
Will obey my bidding,
No harm will befall you.

"You can stay on Earth
And even keep your souls,
Which will never be mine."

So they all agree
To do the Nether Lord's work,
Yet some are lying.

Satan reads their minds
And speaks of the treachery,
Which he has seen there.

They crawl on their knees
Begging Satan for mercy,
Yet he shows them none.

He impales them all
Upon long wooden stakes,
Then boils them in oil.

The messengers feast
Upon the human fare,
To the others' horror.

The onlookers all
Quickly pledge themselves anew,
To the Under Lord.

So he releases them
And they walk upon the Earth,
Doing his bidding.

They walk the planet
As knife-wielding lunatics,
Killing all that they meet.

Burning down houses
They molest young women,
Doing Satan's bidding.

They devour animals
While they are still alive,
And torture others.

Burning down schools
Burning down churches,
And every building in sight.

Looting banks and
Looting service stations,
To only burn the money.

Blowing up bridges
And hospitals too,
With stolen dynamite.

The tally of dead
Increases by the minute,
Till into the hundreds.

The National Guard
Is finally mobilised,
To stem the onslaught.

Many gun battles
See the lunatics captured,
Or killed by the Guards.

Those taken alive
Are found legally insane,
And placed in asylums.

So Satan escapes
Without anyone the wiser,
That he was to blame.

And the messengers
Still walk the Earth to seek out,
A new bride for Satan.

THE END
© Copyright 2021 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia
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Submitted by PHIL_ROBERTS on May 26, 2021

Modified on March 05, 2023

3:10 min read
6

Quick analysis:

Scheme ABX CDX CEF DGD HXX XBX IJX KLM CGD XIX ENK XXX XXN XXX KOP PXX XMQ RXX XHX CPX XSX DEE XXX SCB PSX XRQ XCX TKR UXX FGF VXX KXG XKO XKP WXX XOE WFX UVG XXX YPG Z1 C XYD MXK YFD LXX XDX ZSX 1 XA XEJ CXP XXT
Closest metre Iambic trimeter
Characters 3,383
Words 629
Stanzas 51
Stanza Lengths 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3

Phil Roberts

I turn 65 on the 31st of January 2022. I love cats, rock music, and horror fiction and poetry more…

All Phil Roberts poems | Phil Roberts Books

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