The Chaplain Genocide

Seething bastards
Bleed the captured
Pleading pastors – “Pray!” – But
Him the Sender
Heaven’s lender
Renders not this day
A tender loan
For gendered bones
Unknown to splendor faith
That Him who is
In whim relives
A grimmer concept – Wraith
What Wraith defies
Our God denies
Repugnant puffs of breath
For hindsight spells
Itself in H-E-L-L
Compelled to dwell in death –

“And as the setting sun
Shall run
I’ll run
We’ll runtogether
Sketching memories
(mirrored Sonnets)
Oh what fun
What fun is – Tethered –
Is again redeemed
Upon remaining
Esteemed life
Not severed
Thoughts endangered
Ought be stranger
And retreated from
Until the Son
Repeated comes”

When hindsight grows
Then blindness stows
A prose, progressive stench
Like remnants strewn
On dunes in June
With fervor firmly clenched