Another Poem

I felt like writing another poem, but unfortunately something I feel strongly about is something which will make others feel strongly against me.

Got me?

Have I lost you?

Well I have written this poem, but it is about a past experience and how I felt at the time, I am not trying to offend anyone.

Got that settled? Good.

:)

Here is my poem about a barbecue. 

I stand in the smoke that flows from the burning wood,

Beautiful, twisting,

The wood drowning in the flames,

Being licked by the tongue of satan, 

I never thought satan could be so seductive,

The black wood glows from the inside,

Red, like the pits of hell,

Although they said hell would be painful and ugly.

This is the most beautiful thing ever,

I get enticed by the dancing fire in the grill,

The red hot grill.

Chicken corpses slapped on like food.

Ribs of an animal I could never recognise.

The beautiful smell of burning wood turned evil.

Maybe this is hell,

We just haven’t learned it yet.

The flesh burns in the red,

A different shade to the liquid dripping from the body.

After satan licks the chicken body, they eat it,

I hear his laughs in the crack of the wood.

Laughing like children, they find this fun,

Until like chickens, in hell they burn.

I turn away disgusted by the stench.

My family, with the bodies of what once lived in their mouths.

Satan tries to lure me in, but I pull away to look at the beauty of the sky,

White fluffy clouds float all across to the distance, 

Butterflies and bees dance in the air with joy,

Nothing to worry about in their short lasting lives, 

I look across the fields of luscious green,

Green grass, some filled with the purple of lavender,

Or the golden of wheat, or the whiteness of sheep,

I see the sheep, beautiful 

Sheep. 

Their lambs lost.

I have them found,

Purified by satan,

For not even a pound.

I am not a religious man, and I believe my family are safe,

Safe from the devil in the grill,

Grilling the flesh of what once lived. 

And they are my family, I wish them well,

But I know extremists that will only see them;

Laughing like children, they find this fun,

Until like chickens, in hell they burn.