The Cleanser

They call me meek, a quiet fellow,
friendly type; that may be so,
but I have heard the truth of light
My Lord whispers to me at night:
Kill for me, take someone’s life…
with your brand new butcher’s knife!

The wife and kids’re away till four
Outside I see the girl next door
She’s young and pretty, lives alone
I invite her in since no one’s home
An unbeliever, it’s almost a shame,
but Lord’s will be done – this isn’t a game
I push her through the cellar door
Down she falls, strikes the floor
I get to work, cutting neatly,
carving her into little pieces!

I kill again the very next day
My victim screams, I hack away
Aroused by taking life like this,
I have to give the corpse a kiss
The head removed, I hold it high,
withdraw the brain and say goodbye
The video camera’s flashing ready
Rewind and play. I look like Freddy!

The death-toll climbs as years pass by
My Lord says even more must die
Subtle changes alter me,
rewards that I had not foreseen…
Soaring fast above the land
in answer to my Lord’s demands,
with razor claws and horns on head,
I slaughter people in their beds
I have friends in secluded places:
graveyards, river beds, old suitcases
They’re rotting nicely so it seems,
and welcome me with joyous beams
Wasted are their bodies now,
yet they still move; I don’t know how!

Such a potent blood-lust urge,
I wing my way to the church
The local priest’s a charlatan,
his faith a lie, his heart a sham
I clap my hands and squash his head
He faked the cloth, and now he’s dead
Blood spurts out and down it rains
My hunger grows for tender brains,
but I can never scrub out the stubborn stains
Heathens are such fucking pains!

I return to my house, smash down the door;
brickwork scatters across the floor
My Lord has whispered my family’s fate
They never knew, and now it’s too late
In the living room they sit and stare,
terror-struck beyond repair
Life for them can be no more;
yesterday’s seed, now blood and gore.

They called me meek, perhaps they were right,
but now I’m reborn a child of the light,
a demon, messenger, cleanser of love,
forever sworn to my Lord above

© 2015 Scott Kaelen
Featured in DeadVerse: Poetry Volume One

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