The Devil’s Flesh was written back in October 2015 and published on my other blog, another poem about the society we live in and how we are all swimming in sin and biting down on the devil’s flesh, I made a video to this poem back in January 2016.
I hope you can take time to watch and read this poem from the archives.
We have a modern society,
Full of woe,
We have torment and torture,
Wherever you go,
It does not seem,
To all add up,
Something is amiss,
It is all messed up,
Telling you why,
Telling you how,
The whole world is smouldering,
But don’t give up now,
We have politician,
A priest,
And a want to be model,
We have smartphone cameras,
With a video application,
And what we see,
Is not so unusual,
Because it is now a daily event,
All morals are prehistorically inept,
What they want,
Is what they get,
Carnal sins,
With no regret,
The politician continues to fake policies,
The priest spurts is sermon,
The want to be model,
Now bruised and sore,
Will be a top model,
Not just a political whore,
Because what when in,
No details on how,
Is a stepping stone for her,
To reach the dizzy heights,
Of fortune and fame,
Leaving behind her slavery,
And all of her shit stains,
All dancing with a negative entity,
All using sin as a commodity,
When they are all just perverse,
Kissing a winner,
Using the negative curse,
Of down under,
Hot in hell,
We love to screw the rules,
And that whore as well,
Never too young,
Never too old,
A fetish is satisfied,
No matter how bold,
We explore every possibility,
Murder and sicker crimes,
We are dancing with Lucifer,
Chewing on the devil’s flesh,
It could not be,
But it seems so,
Everybody with power,
Is on the whore,
Female or male,
All in between,
Fierce rivals in politics,
Found between the sheets,
With pigs and geese,
An orgy of Rome proportions,
Society has its abominations,
Never trust a child presenter,
On prime time TV,
She was videoed in bed,
With the mother superior,
Who handed over a wad of cash,
Just to satisfy a whim,
And when veils fall down,
To uncover scars and sacrifice,
Burnt my candles,
Scolded by wax,
All this to let it go,
And relax,
All morals are out of the chapel window,
And on the altar,
Everything has changed,
Outlook altered,
What should be a house of prayer,
Is something else when doors are closed,
And the statues of holy men look down,
On carnal sins below,
What we don’t know,
Cannot harm us,
It is not our problem,
When it is out of sight,
But it seems all of society,
Is biting harder on the devil’s flesh,
Power means dominance,
What I have can be yours,
All you need is to succumb to me,
And dispose of your clothes,
Prim and proper teacher,
Strict and lives by the cane,
But when her desires,
Become top of class,
The poor lad,
Was never the same,
He might have got straight As,
Even though he was dumb as can be,
But the teacher knew is length,
And got her kicks sexually,
His only salvation was growing old,
Sixteen for the teacher,
Was over the hill,
She had to search for someone else,
To get her perverted thrill,
Is there room for any more?
All temptations satisfied,
Queuing up for a piece of meat,
Biting down hard on the devil’s flesh.
Darren Hobson is a published poet who writes constantly and truthfully, mixing his palette of words with detail and enthusiasm, he writes about society, the general grind of daily live but also writes short stories about the supernatural and dark fairy tales. He has many eBooks and paperback books on offer why not delve deeper into this artists mind?
Darren Hobson Poet 