Horn and Wings (and Meaty Things…)

Look at that
deviled angel,
see how she runs?
Tattoos on both arms
and a boatload of
burns.
See the magic flicker
of red nails painted
rust.
Half-smiling,
she squats
in the valley of dust.
Nose ring reflects
her inner Satan’s Sanctum
where all the fellow nuns
seem to smite
her with their
perfect grins.
She lets loose
in rage and bows
lets her long white hair
fly free.
Rustle up some money, honey
and the nuns might never see.
That angel’s a devil, child.
She never stood a chance.
Take a sultry sit here, darling,
and we’ll walk a devil’s dance.
angel woman’s
fierce as day,
cold as night
so much to say
the pawn’s delight.
Her words speak rebellion,
her songs sing of remorse.
That woman, raised by nuns,
has become a sinister force.
Horns and Wings
that sound she brings
will carry her
farther
than the heavenly kings.

It will carry her forth,
It will carry her forth.

Angel’s got no strike
on you,
she loves the devil

through and through.
Deals plenty with the dirt
she knew.
So come and lie
in her favorite pew.

The nuns, they speak
in whispers
about the one that got away.
Became Satan’s Sanctuary
A monster by night;
A woman by day.
When you hear
her bone bracelet’s cackle
Or anklets
smash together.
Or pink ragged wings,
with white cloud hair,

BEWARE

of the deviled angel’s wrath
for she just might corrupt your senses
from wrong to right…
Be wary…choose a path!