An Angry God


Who Loosed My Dogs.
Who loosed my dogs that Never paid service to me.
Where are my boys.
Where have My Beautiful Boys gone
From me.
Where


Who loosed my warriors
My Champions
My Paladins for Peace most virtuous
Loved and beloved by all.
Who Loosed My Dogs. Who loosed my dogs that
Never paid service to me.


I curse the one, if I curse the one who stole them
All Heaven and Hell will destroy him,
His soul, his kin, and all his people for all the ages to come.
I'll squash him like a bug, roll him to a sticky ball of snot.
I'll bring the sky down upon him and Hell up to greet him.
Fire will sear his flesh and leave him writhing in the dirt
And when the swollen form is charred to ash
A poison lime will rain down and turn it to stone
Another reminder to those who think they can play
And not pay service to me.


Oh wait wait wait.
He has not the slightest clue
So let me first tear off his arm and show him what he has done.
Let him see the Dripping gore of it while he still lives.
Veins and muscle ripped and
Torn tendons and ligaments and
Bones all snapped, and bloody useless.
I'll make licentious parts of him to scatter in the road.


Oh where are my boys
Where have they gone from me.
My Crusaders for Christ, My Mujahadin for Allah
My Heroes for Saul and Greece.


Who loosed my dogs. Who is this one that never served.
He's never run with me.
He does not know my dogs and
They will turn on him and rape him as they please.
They are out of his hands. And the tortures,
Oh the Tortures my boys know.
Shock and Awe will be
Like spring flowers to him before my boys are done.


He can not hide
Or lie away from me. I will call to him
He'll hide he thinks in daylight
But at night is where I will find him.
Vexed with fear and pills His kin will be no solace
His wife not able
To mollify the lies.
They will all be strange to him
no comfort, no satisfaction found


Woe is he
Who took my dogs, left them caged in filth,
Bought them under with lies and bribes
And never paid service to me


Give me back my boys.
My beautiful young boys.
When they should be with me
Where winds blow free
Coats gleaming bright, Eyes clean and sharp,
On the hill pressed into the cool grass there
In the dappled shade of oaks.


by Frank DeVuono