Ninth Circle, Hell

SATAN REFUSES TO ACCEPT ANY MORE CATHOLIC PRIESTS IN HELL

NINTH CIRCLE, HELL—Stressing that the situation in the underworld was quickly spiraling out of control, Satan, the Great Tempter and Father of Lies, announced Wednesday that he would not allow any more Catholic priests to enter hell. “This place is completely overrun with those monsters, and frankly, they kind of creep me out,” said the Prince of Darkness, adding that every time he looked up, he saw another recently deceased member of the Roman Catholic clergy being cast down into the fires of hell, where each is expected to be tortured until the end of time by Satan and his minions. “We’re used to having every manner of unrepentant sinner down here, but those guys are beyond messed up. I swear, if I see one more of those sick bastards, I’m going to throw myself into the eternal flames.” In response, God has reportedly instituted a secret policy whereby the priests would no longer face damnation but would instead attend mandatory counseling sessions and then be quietly transferred into heaven.

http://www.theonion.com/satan-refuses-to-accept-any-more-catholic-priests-in-hell

 

 

Nature by Bianca Stone

Maybe humans are the failed A.I. of Nature.

Maybe Nature made something it thought would tend the garden.

Maybe Nature made something sexy, to watch clean the pools with long butterfly nets

and a sunburn-the retainers of Nature.

Now, mirror of mercury and Hell, that hot-red bomb in your mouth, that sweet battleground on your tongue-

it is the catastrophe of your mission.

The wealthy, with their outstanding educations and custom shoes, and empty apartments floating above like Glinda; the ballad of media, the intellectuals, almost shepherding evolution, falling asleep in their haunted paintings and unattainable poetry-all the dimensions of each person’s being, punk, restless in a loop.

Sometimes I want to be taken into nothingness.

I want to be burned with the gypsy moths and blindweed.

Run to exhaustion with the wildebeest.

I don’t want this phone, I want to kill God.

Maybe humans are the complex systems of a natural order that must build and destroy itself in perpetuity.

Blue chicory on the road saying, the end of summer in a sandstorm of our passing-they gyrate and smile-what of our little duties to the architect?

Our deep-red blood our lush tech-

Archangels limping into paradise.

What Does ‘Now’ Hate Know of Love

So commonplace now, the trickle down gun shot tears…from a mad clown.

Only means of recourse, to recover the slanted mind from the sand…

somehow.

No vacancy messages.

Airwaves telling of what is to come.

myra evans disappointed

There are three crows circling from above.

What does NOW hate…know of love?

I could walk the tilted land endlessly searching the heaven’s below.

Rummaging the hell above.

The question will remain…

What does NOW hate…know of love?

imageedit_18_6129815045

A Ruthless Chair

If I sit alone with that…which does not shine.

The chair twists over.

Carefulness and intolerance.

Than become a seat that binds.

As ruthless as heaven above…

And, hell below.

There soon sits an awareness…

Pay no heed to an inner franchise.

Until I have learned all there is to know.imageedit_15_4802653979

 

the Current State of…the State

carnival 3

There have been numerous discussions on ‘the way of the world’ today!  Particularly, the United States.  The fear that sets heavy in my stomach in the morning when I rise?  At night, upon a not peaceful sleep?

I am brought back to the moment in time; when the focus had been on the Cold War.  The Vietnam war having just ended.  And, the, walking on egg shells, feeling, my parents displayed.  And, perhaps, not just them, but other Baby Boomers, as well.

 

she keeps me 2

“We are as forlorn as children lost in the wood. When you stand in front of me and look at me, what do you know of the griefs that are in me and what do I know of yours? And if I were to cast myself down before you and tell you, what more would you know about me that you know about Hell when someone tells you it is hot and dreadful?”

  • Kafka