COPYRIGHT ME. But yes, influenced by Dante's Inferno.
Inscription on the gate of hell.
Abandon light; Abandon hope, through me lies the way to the wasted land, through me the way to the doleful valley, beyond me the way to the hopeless vale, into the blind darkness comes my path, and into the land of punishment, through me the way into everlasting suffering, through me the way into the dolorous empire, the land of death lies beyond, the path through to eternal pain, from out of me there is no escape, wide and easy is the path on which I straddle.
Minos the judge
And there I saw Minos, brutal judge, wearing an enormous crown, his face livid with rage, garbed only in his long white beard, the horrid beast hurling souls who come before him over this shoulder, then that shoulder, without regard, his blood caked talons slicing open the death wounds and their venoms the cause of ceaseless pain and regret, his tail like that of an anaconda, this huge monster, shocking agent of divine justice, biting off the heads of doubting philosophers only to spew it whole from his anus, down, down into the deep pit he hurls ceaselessly the long line of shrieking damned, no confessions needed, no verdict pronounced.
Satan
Satan! Terrible mockery! Vice regent of the dolorous empire! Three faced, dis, Lucifer, beelzebub, anger ignorance and envy, so terrible, so far reaching his influence. The monster wandereth from mountain of razor sharp obsidian to mountain of razor sharp obsidian, a scaly, hairy body, with riddled with festering putrid blisters and oozing black blood, a long conical tail, and six wings, beating furiously, but no flight ensuing. Into his blood drenched claws any who dares this circles perils must come, into his gore imbued teeth, vicious in the extreme, lies the path of those whom he catches. Vomiting black blood and purple bile in his pain and disease, the grisly black monster's faces red, blue, and ghastly green, covered with warts, scars, and boils, he that in heaven was fairest of all now in his death has become hideous beyond all thought or conception.
9th circle.
O gloomy region of Infamy, doom to the fraudulent, doom to the traitors! Some with their heads upright, some with their heads downward, the razor sharp ice that entombs them black with gory blood, some bathing in the ice to the eyebrows, to the waist, to the shoulders, bend backwards, bent forwards, no souls more fit for the absolute bottom, where the air is so cold that breathing permits no breathing, the wind freezes in the lungs, in the blood, blackened blood forms icicles like those that hang from a tree, the bluish and shriveled souls here do not move, do not speak, like statues they all stand, but their eyes followed after me, such eyes as, if they should have been daggers, would have cut me to pieces with pain, those few who were able to speak uttering ceaseless curses, only compounding their painful frostbite, their pain contorted bodies oozing rivulets of frozen slush, this freezing utter blackness, this nihil profundi, where reposes Beliel, so tremendous and terrible, so unimaginably horrible that I was struck with fainting at the sound of a single toe moving... What I saw there I will not report. Such horror and evil can only serve to increase itself in the mind of man.
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Topic: Poetry slam (Read 743 times)