i. Crash

Gods propped up on crutches they’ll toss,
numb from such ancient procedures
they’re at a loss to recover
what legends they can at all costs,

hesitant to taste the future,
angels manifest pure anger
they undress and molest themselves
with, seeking after touch better

kept off such thin, immor(t)al flesh,
paper-blank, waste-basket creatures
digging into ribs with fingers
reluctant to relinquish this

yearning they experience for
eternity, burning severe
enough to warrant carelessness
as they caress mortal desire,

seducing human weaknesses
with fuming fire none can conjure,
angels restore to their power
kings whose ancient thrones gods suppressed.

                              ii. Burn

Unimpressed, aping Narcissus,
squadrons of artists and lovers
walk on heaven, taking over
what prayer neglects but war reflects,

throwing up hand grenades harder
than drunken kisses; love’s bunker
littered with bottle blondes chaos
bombshells into hell’s kitchen, lures

innocence by the pound, boxes
delivered overground, under
harshest conditions no thunder
can compete with, angels who cross

the sky’s thin red line hymen their
way through her, red eyeing greener
pastures where passion flies highest,
no pleasure denied, since on earth

men are free to climb on, get off,
and eat after, any other
beast their hunger craves to devour,
preying on babes like mantises.