Eight miles from yesterday
One more to go
Before the snow
Is so far behind
It can't remind
Of frozen corpses.
Watch the winter rose is
Growing through skulls --
Nature has no lulls --
Thorns in rotted flesh
Coated in icy mesh
Like a battoulah in place
Across a dead face
To hide the grim promise
Thanks to Thomas.
Because Aquinas suggested
A human could be divested
Of the meat mechanical,
Oh pretentious animal,
Made of two,
The soul in you;
And it's the immaterial
Bound for the imperial
Holy cities in the sky
Warmed by god's eye.
So it should be easy to see
This killing spree
Was to prove that perception
Of the human conception.
On Ash Wednesday
Good Catholics pray,
And leave church marked.
The firing pin sparked...
The angel whisper bested
To satisfy curiosity tested
The thesis the incorporeal
Is part of the real.
And there's no harm
Enjoying the alarm
Of those not realizing
They're god's rising,
Sent to heaven for better;
The devil whisper abettor
Inspiring laughter
Through the slaughter.
But no angels ever came after
Descending from the rafter
Into the chapel
To sweetly dispel
The simple fact
After the attack
The ghosts are gone.
Conclusions drawn,
Moving along
To see what else saints got wrong.