(P.S. poetry series) Purple Pearl

If the safe’s been unlocked and the content is gone, lightly heard the sound of a moan, path thru has been blocked,

“Do not enter” reads the sign at the edge of the zone, nostalgia is the feeling of coming back home, somehow with sorrow it goes, the job to determine the taste relies on the nose,

Standing by the railroad in the middle of earth, sun covered with blankets of clouds, the abyss of the sea carries its monsters and dirt thru the dimension with no or very little sound,

Light bulb is shattered with thousands of pieces across the room, old soldier’s house in the night looks very gloom and poison ivy clings to the walls,

My memories came up so clear and sense of despair always near, only somehow they both getting tired and leave me alone every once in awhile,

Battle starts, laser cuts, rattle hearts, window shuts, leftovers on the table to fulfill the dream, turnover of beliefs for the sake of sins,

Tongues of fire licking feet of the one that’s beautiful and sent to meet the god himself for affecting men with nothing less than magic, that’s been misunderstood for witchcraft has it?,

Screaming, burning up alive, steaming piles of black smoke rise up to the degree of hope, where even pope is helpless to confront the justice for the reign of lies that sense in real time defies,

And vengeance to entire core of the corrupted, piercing them with swords of blinding light, hidden like a purple pearl inside the shell of darkest night.