I’m usually not much on poetry, but it seemed very appropriate for this application. I wrote this last year as a reenactment of The Divine Comedy in first person, being escorted by the biblical Cain. The circles have been greatly simplified and associated with a few of the Seven Deadly Sins. In each circle, I meet people guilty of that sin, completely unrelated to the actual novel. It’s a bit of a stretch, but still an interesting read. Enjoy.
(Also note the form, you may recognize it. )

INTRODUCTION
To Hell

I was born with a gift of infallible vex,
living to see Hell’s own rancid thirst,
the sight of perdition, a diabolic hex.

Innate with this apparition of the dammed and cursed,
forever knowing my terminating blight,
I called for salvation in the form of a verse.

To my cry, Gabriel descended from above in light,
gliding down the beam of his angelic sleigh,
immersed in a radiance of all that is right.

He took up my hand in his omnipotent way,
told me from God he was specially sent,
then offered to show me the horror and dismay.

I shuttered and mouthed nothing but consent,
knowing my sins tied my soul in a knot,
as I craved deeply the need to repent.

Faltering feet burdened me not,
as the streets shattered, all rock and concrete,
then the dirt ruptured with fire and rot.

The flames danced wild, their threatening heat,
my swirling mind cleared by Gabriel’s embrace,
felt nothing but cold on my trembling feet.

The hour has come to find my true face,
condemned so long I now must break the spell,
singing incantations up God’s staircase.

No revelation can come from Hell,
no learning of souls who cheated life’s dice,
without hearing the stories they tell.

Gabriel’s divinity was Lucifer’s vice,
existing only in evil, his fatal bane,
damming him forever to fire and ice.

Forever seeing earth’s torment and pain,
for chance to repent, this trek I take part,
I commence my journey to the den of Cain.
This world is so dark, corrupt to the ground,
money rules this world of thievery and rape,
where murders leave mangled, hidden to be found.

There’s a shining of hope for me to escape,
relieved from this world of good, bad, and grey,
to rise up to God’s aegis from the murder and rape.

Gabriel will show me the righteous, most celestial way,
guiding me through the allotted destination of my soul’s self,
through Hell’s catacombs where the tormented play.

As we sink through the soil, I whisper to myself,
a final prayer between the earth and the fire,
one last request for the right to God”s heavenly shelf.

“God heed my despondent ever-final desire,
unchain me from thy sinned Hell shackles,
and bless my soul safely away from this fire.”

Then my feet touched the ground and I heard the demonic cackles.

CIRCLE ONE
LIMBO

We enter through a one of the stonehenge gates,
guarded by demons drooling, slobbering, and lacking decorum,
just down the path the beginning of Limbo awaits.

No pain or suffering around, a calm forum
of all the non-baptized infants and souls unfound,
just waiting for Christ’s Limbus Patrum.

Souls glide through the air all around
us, completely silent and tranquil they draw,
and I notice a few famous and renowned.

Socrates and Plato, I mouthed people I saw,
Aristotle and Euclid, “Gabriel why are they in Hell?”
“They’re not being punished, just missed Jesus’s awe.”

We continued down the stairs and were overwhelmed by the smell.

CIRCLE TWO
GREED/ENVY

The first thing we saw were thieves
cursing and screaming in the pain
each of them in turn receives.

Clinging onto a slowly lowering chain,
above an inferno of growing heat and blaze,
their cursed fingers inflicted unbearable pain.

Then cheaters we saw in a large human maze,
chased by quick demons, taunting and clawing their back,
then suddenly a black snake caught my fixed gaze.

A liar’s tongue was replaced by a diamondback,
inflicting countless wounds, that serpentine anger
would not cease a minute from attack.

My mind made up, I’d lie or steal never
again, but other sins I committed,
enough to condemn my soul forever.

My heart was growing heavy, but errors I admitted.

CIRCLE THREE
SLOTH

The ground was covered in red hot coals,
burning hotter without walking motion,
around walked these condemned souls.

I tried to keep my head clear of emotion,
and had Gabriel’s help to stay alert,
but then I noticed their unconditional devotion.

They moved slowly, so much that it hurt,
coals burning brighter with each step they took,
and could not move barely faster than inert.

Then I noticed a soul, familiar in his look,
It was Peter from Office Space,
both slothful and a croak.

“Peter, what’s happening?” I asked him in pace,
he replied with a grunt, “a case of the Mondays”,
to carefree to explain before he turned about-face.

His internal time was not right- the case should have been Sundays.

CIRCLE FOUR
PRIDE

We entered this circle by stairs of rough rocks,
crumbling to pieces and threatening to break,
to find huge tanks made of glass blocks.

Filled to the brim with boiling water, red and opaque,
and for no air or escape, sealed tight at the top,
sharks attacked the vengeful, the more for their stake.

Their air removed to a point before death, to stop
in the pinnacle of pain and not cross,
I noticed a face writhing in pain, a local city cop.

He introduced himself by name as Stanley the Boss,
working as a resource officer by day,
but his pride in himself, his fatal loss.

A shark then bit his mouth and halted our chat halfway,
then we saw the Lower Gates, massive and maroon,
and I thought to myself we need to continue on our way.

Gabriel spoke with the guard and got us past by promising we’d be gone soon.

CIRCLE FIVE
Physical lust

Sandpaper layered the ground of this circle, where
demonic dogs running amuck drug their sinners behind,
each bound at hands and feet, skin peeling and tearing.

Adulteress were just drug about, perpetually crying,
desiderating it to finally cease,
though rapists had it far more trying.

Rapists were bound to a more violent lease,
drug by angry dogs, ripping and tearing
at their mangled body’s last piece.

Here Gabriel redirects my staring,
to Bill Clinton and Kobe Bryant,
crying, wailing, and pain bearing.

Tossing and turning, they’re forever defiant,
I extend a quick greeting,
To David Kendell’s comdemned client.

He spattered, “Don’t cheat on your wife,” and his canine ended our meeting.

CIRCLE SIX
Empowered lust

In this circle the powerful share lust,
dictators, emperors, and popes with abused powers,
tormented in pain forever as Satan felt just.

Gabriel pointed at Nixon passing by,
still bound by hell’s demonic hound,
jumping roughly, Nixon hitting the sandpaper from high.

His skin was curse, the pain profound,
amplified suffering by every impact,
like fire on his flesh when he slid on the ground.

Cainak assisted the pups in this act,
the bloodthirsty hell hound,
for skin razors were angled and stacked.

He tore and he clawed for all that was sinned,
left not even John Paul the Second,
a chance to rescind.

“After all that we’ve seen, how much worse could Hell get?” I silently reckoned.

CIRCLE SEVEN
GLUTTONY

Gabriel leaned over and covered my nose,
the rotting flesh and vomit overtook my senses,
Here the gluttonous showed me the lowest of lows.

The sinners were starving, a second from death,
the pain in their stomach felt like fire lit,
the food plentiful and delicious right in front of their breath.

Though if they attempted to go for it,
they were whipped and beat,
by the horned demons of this pit.

All their senses in pain, so wanting to eat,
but not just food was the their obsession,
alcohol and drugs they exceeded replete.

I shook my head solemnly as their death brought their life’s regression.

CIRCLE EIGHT
WRATH AGAINST SELF / Suicidals

The suicidals had no name,
no body and no face,
all walking in identical vehicles of shame.

The only difference is their suicidal place,
a cut on their wrist or a rope around their neck,
forever pained by the gunshot or whatever the case.

They walked the abyss, their everlasting trek,
kept moving by vicious demons armed with the claws,
whenever a sinner slowed down, a quick slash kept them in check.

I recognized so many souls, I stopped to pause,
I saw Hemingway, Marilyn Monroe, and Vincent van Gogh.
I started to speak to one, but realized they had no jaws.

Just a blob of being, identical head to toe,
suffering their sin of pain and despair,
for their eternity on Hell’s death row.

I followed Gabriel’s steps into the final circle, Satan’s very own lair.

CIRCLE NINE
WRATH AGAINST OTHERS

We stepped into this Hell and bursts of fire surrounded
us, a ring of red flames surrounded the room,
in the center a ice sphere, unmelting unfounded.

We walked through the ring and noticed the ice tomb,
people embedded in the walls, forever frozen,
sinners against others, now they have only gloom.

These sinners treacherous, completely unambrosian,
lived life by murder or backstabbing,
locked forever in this dry ice, personally chosen.

The devil in the middle, with his icy spear jabbing
into the souls unable to flinch in the pain,
his punishment distributed from slices to dabbing.

Hitler and Stalin were forever in vain,
Bundy and Manson frozen in torment,
entirely at the mercy of the devil’s demonic reign.

His eyes met mine and I felt my spine freeze,
the world went black as I nodded thanks to Gabriel,
and began my ascent, finally able to cast my ultimate repent.

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