The Devil's Advocate

by Neil Marsden   Jan 18, 2008


I have just deleted soul,
As your orange inmates file sits leadened black upon my knee.
Filth upon lurid, evil, life-defying filth, I have just read and seen,
And a need to know you inside out, priority for me.

You have just turned my heart to solid stone,
Taking everything in reserve.
And the words that will form your epitaph,
Are more than this or any other world deserves.

I watched you as you entered here today,
Surfing into 'B' wing, with a tariff of twenty five year.
But had not by then read your history,
Thus had never before tasted fear.

Now I sit for many hours unmoved,
To soak the enormity in,
And then to my utter amazement,
View once more the numbing photographs within.

You who have never tasted love,
You so oblivious to pain.
You that have defiled life itself,
A nightmare within nightmares domain.

I did not need my eyes to see,
Your graphic library of death.
For my brain became kaleidoscope,
As your handiwork took every breath.

We will not share this earth with you,
At least not beyond these walls.
And whilst you and I, in here collide,
You stand right under where my hammer falls.

I hope that you, in your blind, cold existence
Upon every occasion we meet.
Get a sense of the loathing that pours out before me,
As I vomit accountability, squarely at your feet.

My mind rushes forth towards all of the people,
Who have witnessed the fire in your wake.
And my heart flows on out to the empty nest parents,
Whose children you chose to forsake.

Have no doubt I will check you hour upon hour,
To make sure that the monster 'stays in'
And be sure in your heart every day I'll devote,
Towards straightening your cock-sure grin.

Little yet does your position hit home,
All too much novelty for one day.
But your tomorrow is just a mere forerunner,
That begins, ends, and begins again this way.

On the end of my leash sits the animal,
That all of the world should fear.
But sleep soundly and warmly my children,
For I have this bastard reigned here.

Slop out for the mother, roll call for the rest,
As dawning falls upon your disgusting head.
Seize whatever paltry offering comes your way,
It's lock, un-lock, lock, un-lock, lock, un-lock...

Then you're dead.

Neil Graham Marsden.

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