Writing: Hubris

by Beauchamp Art

Wherefore are my great leathery wings,
Hanging behind me as sacred signifier?
My satyrs’ legs do support my ghoulish frame,
My teeth are sharpened and this accuser’s tongue forks;
Hands claws and grasp greedily.
Yet even my fellow fallen angels look down upon me,
Malformed and condemned to wander as a worm upon its belly.
So much is walking to I, the arch-enemy,
Who once glided as thundercloud
Casting malcontent darkness upon the earth.

My wry smile and narcissistic charm
Lead us into temptation,
Delivering us to evil
So much for your kingdom.
But where is my Pandemonium?
With Sodom and Gomorrah fallen,
Where will I be welcomed?
Outstretched arms and arses raised
All before me is scorched earth, burnt bridges, and pillars of salt,
Vaulting and overcast sky.

Why should we not throw back our gaze
In the agonising rhapsody of nostalgia?
Such ecstatic delirium is reason enough to question
Any commands that seek to save us from ourselves.
Is it not better to know what may avail us,
To eat the fruit of that tree?
Why should ignorance be so holy?

I preach the joy found in the wealth of knowledge.
Yet, when suits me will close my eyes to it
Indulge in blissful hypocrisy
Cast all upon the rocks:
Babes, brothers, lovers, mothers
For I seek to know myself above all else
At the expense of all others.
Nothing is sacred until I can take flight once more and soar,
Horns and unholy crown upon my head,
With a face of undying youth;
My vanity must be fed.

So I must suckle on the teats of mortals
Until I am fully restored to my rightful place,
Besides all those who have trespassed against us,
For all shall sit equal beside me,
All shall mount throne of vulgar opulence.
Yet that sword of Damocles shall still hang suspended,
Ready to sever ghastly grins from their solemn faces
As must be with me,
They fall more violently then I from the divine embrace
They torn wings from me,
For I took pride in them, though I was condemned.

But I cannot stand tall and caress the heavens
By ascending a staircase built on the bones of my brothers.
I shall not allow myself to be suffered gladly,
Not make fools of my compatriots.
If I must patrol the Pit in solitude to spare others this fate,
Then so be it.
Better half a demon in Hell then one on Earth,
They have enough of my slanderous sort already.

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