The hell poems
The hot hell
Gloom of black and red ascend, the darkest red of sky with the blackest of bog
A bog of sulphur and burnt flesh, the iron taste of blood fills the air with each breath
A thick air that turns the nose to blood, filling the throat with burning phlegm
Each bit of red sand burns against their naked feet, till nails pop from boiling
They sink into the burning blood, screams fill the endless sky of the hot hell
Burning blood, swimming with eels that delight in sinful flesh, they feed into the scorching flesh
The burning blood dissolves and softens the flesh, easily chewed on by hellish eels
The eels bite into the front flesh, the front flesh that lead to the sinner to this realm
The front that had harmed many, the vulnerable, children and all.
The front flesh is bitten, the boiling blood pools in
The sinner faces their punishment, the sinner has long to pay their debt to the ones they wrong.
So there lays, the gloomy hell of the rapists and the abusers, for eons to suffer
And so their screams fill the hot hell
The cowardly hell
The cowardly sinner runs, as he ran all his life
no more tears from his running
no more vulnerable people to stand on
The cowardly sinner runs on burning rocks, sizzling his flesh with each step
The Cowardly sinner finds no rest
The cowardly sinner reaches the mountain of flesh, he's seeing his fellow sinner within it
Bladed chains fly out and grab the sinners neck, as just as their victim are lead on to further pain
The cowardly sinners legs dissolve into the mountain, not even a shed of skin to protect from the storm of salt
The cowardly sinner screams as each sting from the hellish wasps reveal his sins, a sting for each tear, for each broken heart, the hellish wasp stings as he screams and fills his throat with blood.
The cowardly sinner becomes nothing more than a segment of the flesh mountain
His suffering is long overdue, for no longer can the cowardly sinners run, they suffer what they gave to others
They scream in peril with each tear they caused in the earthly realm a sting from the wasps await in the cowards hell
For now, they may no longer run, and the coward must face what he ran from for all his life.
His screams fill the cowardly hell
The addicted hell
The drunkard sinners eyes change to that the colour of piss;
No more nights of booze
no more nights of a cowering child at home;
The drunkard swam in the sea of sin; but still
dries up on the broken glass shore;
Their screams once the hooligans nightly prayer
Now the music that fills the drunkard hell
Past the drunkard sea, lay islands of sorrow
Lonely and rotting, the yellow eyes tear a desperate groan
for the drunkard sea be that of acidic pissy glow
The island of sorrow be that cold of ice within a pint
The sad drunkard left underneath a sheet of ice
No longer than a grain of rice, but imprisons a most
degenerate being.
No longer can they run from their offspring into the arms
of a whiskey smelling neglect
for now, they face the neglect from the eye of hell itself.
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