The Devil's Tongue

Our voices were the ocean's

Roar until we could cry no more

The fires purified and consumed

In the East, rose the Wolf Moon

We were like the raging seas

That could not be

Living in between worlds

On this side of heaven and hell

I fell to the beasts

My heads were seven

I shook myself from the dust 

To arise strange who I was

I fell in love with Lilith

Drawing the veils of night

Around the tired eyes of day

I whispered God's secret name

Then I flew away

Unto to all despised

Our hearts were monsters

Most considered me a demon

I carried the blame and shed the blood

As a wild witch whose angry 

Tears were gone somewhere in the

Clouds above

We knew the worst too young 

Beyond the shameful screams 

Of trauma

The macabre songs were sung

In the devil's tongue

It's not your soul he seeks

Please don't be afraid of me

In the darkness of dreams

And waking screams

Beautiful affliction

Let me see your face

Unmirrored by the river Styx

And Lethe

Let us lay the lone ghosts to rest

Around the grief of the shadowy years

I wave the mirror away

Without any fears

Someday, the night will

Be ours alone again

Where the moon and stars 

Have not fled

Copyright 2022- Alexis Child

Dead Ink

I'm pleased as a murderer

Who has dealt his

Blows successfully

Staining the crimson ground.

Although a part of me dies,

When death comes to close

His eyes.

As I walk in the gloomiest

Part of town-

Black as the grave

I wear the garb of the dead

For I have never really lived.

Was I being led by the devil?

Did he steal my soul?

Drag me down further

Into this black hole?

I had fallen into his trap

His silver tongue spit silver bullets

Leaving me with scars

I'd never show.

A cold place to be

As I slip into the waves

Of the silent sea.

Walking for what seemed like

An eternity

Sweating under the setting sun

Madness jabs at my brain.

Staring into the enchanted eyes

Of The Green Fairy,

It’s absinthe time,

Temptations of the soul,

My spirits revived.

I write a letter to the dead.

I write with a maddening hunger,

I write myself into nervous breakdowns.

Where the stars will not align,

And sadness is the sun.

Feel the shadows move across my skin,

Intoxicating, irreplaceable,

Magical,

You are all the above,

Guilty of sin and dust.

You wear a hellish guise,

Staring at me with open mouth,

Widened eyes,

You are the fight in my soul,

This life of crime,

The fight in my soul until the end

Of time,

This bittersweet pain is enough

To call your name and run for cover,

Demoniacal lover.

You are the hole down below,

You and I will make more dust.

Love me, love me

Put it in the ground,

Where the flowers grow,

In the silent hourglass of

The blackest hells that guide

Us now

Seraphic Lucifer was created

For sabotage for many an hour,

At Midnight, I greet the devil

When I’m out for a stroll

He’s out there collecting souls.

Walk with me, Cerberus

From Hades to the Hounds of Hell

Fear...

Is all to itself

Copyright 2022-Alexis Child

Jeremiah

“Adele,” he says.  She smiles, walks to 

where he’s sitting.  “Jerry,” she replies,

“the usual.”  No question, hardly a reply,

something else like an understanding 

where words are only a formality, a hiding

of what is true.  He says, “Yes.”  She returns

glass in hand, concern now in her eyes as she

looks more closely at his which seem to be

searching for what can be avoided.  “You

okay?” places the glass down, sees a slight

tremor in his hand as he reaches for it.

He lifts up his eyes, says, “I don’t know.”

“Adele!”  she turns and goes to another 

customer.  ‘The voice said,’ he whispers. ‘truth 

is beyond good and evil, right and wrong.

The ultimate reality of what is and what 

is done with it – the question of what is 

truth is the question of what fits and 

the consequences that arise: the natural 

or the unnatural realities.  The harmony 

and clarity and integrity.   The composition 

of which is not exclusive and what you call

right and wrong, lies – which are truths disguised –

good and bad, categories too simple for

the complexity of a life, of living.  Not to be

confused with complications, debris one is

unwilling to be free of.’  Jerry finishes. Raises 

a finger.  Adele arrives with another.  “You see

a ghost or something?”  “Maybe.”  “Oh, Sarah called.

Said if you stopped by to remind you she has the kids

for soccer practice tonight.  Get something to eat here.”

Adele smiles.  He takes a deep breath, lets out a long 

sigh.  “Let me see a menu.”   “You know what you 

want.”  He pauses.  Tilts the glass.  “It’s not on the

menu what you want.”  “The Fallen Angel burger,”

he says.  “What is truth, Adele?”  She gives a slight

smile and walks away.  Looks back, says, “Comin’

right up.”  The kitchen doors swinging shut. 

-Byron Hoot

 hootnhowlpoetry.com

Just Wondering/Untitled

Just Wondering

The squirrel disrupts the snow on the top 

rail as it runs along as if there is no 

cold and snow.  And now is on the ground.

I’d like to change the elevation of where I 

am as easily as the squirrel and the confidence

of landing on my feet inherent in each step.

Not much to ask.  I think and wonder why 

it’s so hard to do for me what the squirrel

does so easily.

Untitled 

Farther Leading to Further 

The ambiguity of satisfaction

in the face of the synchronicity

of circumstances that put me 

here made me squint to see them

again and the horizon as I drove 

looking at the road and hillsides,

listening to voices I would still 

have beside me.  I drove and wished

I had farther to go, that the destination

was not so well-known, that the roads – 

main ones and secondary – demanded 

more attention.  I drove caught between

wanting to return and go a little further

on unknown roads. 

-Byron Hoot

hootnhowlpoetry.com