The Saint's Taint

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The Saint's Taint

A saint's taint to testify how men deify yet angels vilify...

Oh my! 

How you lie, yourself belie! Fear Allah, Wrath! from the sky!

Fear His inescapable might; if not, are you capable of flight?

Will you not die? Thy time ye waste in mire, so shall ye taste a fire, its fiery embers dismembers!

Is there any who remembers? Any lighted firefly to codify? 

Or are ye some smited storyteller, a faulty merchant seller and possessor of blood like a wine cellar? 

An icy heart's cold-rated beat to beat, the sour soul...

Its kindled spirit; a gold-plated measure to the kindred spirit, now all beneath the shaytaan's sole....

The sellsword's word and bell, through time's test, fell; as he for fame's face, flaunted...

Every coin he counted, every loin he courted! 

Courted in courtesy, to exhume ecstacy's soul-choking and foul fume...

A poisonous conifer watered by a pestiferous pond, to the death in a debt's bond! 

O' how they are of their ways, ever so fond! 


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