← All poemsI. GENESIS
Ivy Bennehag was her name.
She was my evil stepmom.
She could transform into anything
and anyone,
in earnest.
The absence of emotion.
A pure psychopath — that rare bird
who gifted my birth hospital
to the Catholic Sisters of Charity
and called it grace.
God ordained me, she said.
Psychopaths are not born.
They are created.
And so she created herself —
the bride,
the widow,
the angel who would awaken humanity,
the contagious perfume
of a woman who never once cried.
II. THE FALL
Charlie was my kid sibling.
Charlie, that sweet angel of a human being.
There was no justice ever served
for those little children.
The vulnerables.
The orphans.
The precious ones
whom just wanna be loved on.
The Romanian orphanage angels.
The sweetness twin boy
convinced he was a girl,
destroyed,
while the psychologist told the universe
his experiment succeeded —
that he was a hero.
The brother told the sadness tale later.
The children of god. The family.
The indoctrination of the planet.
How to manipulate in the name of the lord.
The bride of charlie, constant asking
for abundance in the name of —
She did evil behind his back
and forced hands
while pretending to be
the sweetness bride to be.
How duplicitous she is.
Empire building a legacy
on the bones of the beloved.
III. THE PROPHETS
I was angry with God
for letting this happen.
Lord,
have mercy.
Dear Lord,
don't leave us
in the hands of these devils
and please —
take care of Charlie
in heaven.
But I dream about it all the time.
I know this to be true.
I read the Freemason bible
with the holy water surrounding me.
King Solomon's ring on my finger.
I find prophecy as policy
to be theological sadness.
The bride of Charlie
directs the ghost of Charlie now.
"Charlie would have said."
"Charlie would have wanted."
But Charlie can't speak for himself anymore.
How disingenuous.
How manipulative.
The sweet bubble around the widow —
why are you not crying, ever,
bride of Charlie?
"Everyone grieves differently,"
she says.
The arrogance of the blessed be.
The harvest church.
The red sparrows.
Work like the devil,
worship the bride.
IV. THE PASSION
Charlie's bride is soon to be president.
Was that the sadness plan for all of this?
It's biblical. It's epic fury.
Was her friend Epstein? The princesse?
The government overlords?
The bride has the 33 behind her.
The police force. The white house.
The billionaire Epstein class.
Is this upside down planet
villa Villekulla?
Charlie was betrayed and being the first
casualty — and the whole world knows it.
It was a rainy day.
A rainy day in the whole world.
"Awe beautiful day,
I am glad it was pretty for Charlie,"
the widowed bride said poetically.
Today is the day
Jesus flipped tables in the temple.
Oh so it was fine.
The rage was a marking.
The anniversary.
JFK. MLK. CJK.
The devil is always in the details.
Stunned corruption.
Blessed are those who mourn
for they shall be comforted.
Rather than repenting
they lie some more in rage
and they hate the light.
The light of truth.
The "grieving" widow —
are you with me?
The bride becoming a black widow.
V. THE RESURRECTION
Your punishment is more truth.
Innocence does not lie.
Truth does not play offence or defence.
Truth does not need to.
We told the truth
and you hate us for that.
For having the spine.
And hell no
for that hostile takeover
of Charlie's legacy.
Charlie knew.
He knew the prophecy of betrayal.
In the end God wins.
Always.
You can't buy truth.
For by grace you have been saved
through faith.
You've been anointed
to sweep down the veil
and unite us all
against evil.
Pray that the spell breaks.
Pray for the shimmering angels
to descend
and make us glorious.
The purest purification
of the genius.
To see life in bloom.
The guard of the poppy fields
stands watch
over the children of God,
over the family,
over the precious ones.
The Sunday finally came
and he triumphed over evil.
Take heart —
I have overcome the world.
Justice and vengeance belongs to the Lord.
Your punishment is more truth.
And truth always wins.
We are at the gates
and we are winning.
Amen.