The Beacon Runneth Over
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This one is not only one of my favorites I've ever written, but the title is also one of my favorites and I feel it was meant to go with this poem. This one is very allegorical, unless the meaning is more obvious than I thought. It's about a couple different things, like my OCD and wanting people to be a part of my life who aren't and feeling angry about that. But the main meaning behind it is about my conflict with being a "good" or "bad" person. There's no question that I am a "good" person but it's more the question of specific actions rather than generally speaking. Learning that every demon in hell was once a part of heaven triggered a few sets of lines about how every "monster" or "evil" person was once good. Therefore giving me hope that even a few morally grey actions to protect myself doesn't make me a bad person. Even every "bad" person was once accepted as good. This poem was one of the first that I wanted to show everyone because of how powerful and extreme (in a good way) I felt it was. I felt it was very advanced and I am extremely proud of it to this day. Without writing too much more, I will just say this poem is accurate in some parts to the lore of the demons, specifically Baal-Berith. Look him up to see what parts I took from his lore and which parts I included just from my own feelings and experiences. Enjoy!
There’s thousands of puzzles that have never been solved and never will be
Please excuse my OCD as it floods my brain completely
I’m a man of cold hard evidence
As I’ll be sure to fax you all my fax complete receipts
As they continuing printing
“Follow me, I can give you answers you didn’t know you needed”
What he whispers in the ears of the vulnerable
Dear prince of fallen angels,
Tell me every demon was once apart of heaven
She could have dropped her sword and ran
But instead she used your words against you indisputably
She runs away with the weight of the world on her shoulders,
and the power to turn any metal into gold
And any heart into a slave for her idolized soul
She had the politicians begging for answers and writing down notes
While your fathers prayed tenfold
There’s thousands of unsolved crimes that have never been solved
and never will be
And there’s no justice in higher security
But the warriors in red have a hold of me
Showing me a more progressive way of masculinity
While your fathers blew their money on tokens of affection,
Paying for love tenfold
There’s a million questions I have about my mind that have never been answered, and never will be
Like why my OCD has to take over me completely,
Repeating the same lines to myself quietly
I feel like a mental patient in my own hospitality
Writing novels of accountability
While your fathers were on their hands and knees
With blood on their hands,
Screaming “why did this happen to me?”
Like feeling relief after a break up
Something was your sign all along
We either don't see it until it's too late
Or we choose to ignore it
And you can't convince me otherwise;
Spies have one job
And yours was to be a part of my life
I'm used to feeling disappointed
But that doesn't mean it gets less scathing
And you can't convince me otherwise;
A spy has one job
And with the blood on your hands,
Caught red-handed,
You failed at only disappointing me slightly
You didn't have it in you to give me the bare minimum
Like the warriors before you that dropped their swords and ran,
Regretting their choice of a life of violence over romance
Dear prince of fallen angels,
Please remind me that every demon was once at the hands of God,
fighting for forgiveness tenfold
Copyright © Matthew Bailey | Year Posted 2023
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