Down deep within the cesspit pool of Hell
(by “Hell” I mean the world where demons lurk;
one which we cannot see – it’s parallel),
Beelzebub had on his face a smirk.
And well he might! For in the other room
from his (the one where humans strut and prate
upon the stage of their infernal doom),
the people there his work did celebrate.
As for myself, peace, beauty, love, I’ll share.
I’ve seen the dark; I know its blasted face —
so I’ll not on my body horror wear,
nor will I let such vileness near my space.
Please tell me: Why should evil fascinate?
This ghoulish day I’ll not commemorate.
© Alan Morrison, 2015