Awash In The Swamp

Awash in the swamp, he’d supposed to drain

His promises proved lies now shown;

Oligarchs and thieves fall down as the rain

Your hopes and your dreams turned to stone.


We told you, we told you not to believe

This carnival barker cloaked in Versace;

Give it some time as I’m certain you’ll grieve

With your tears as they spoil your latte.


Prepare for the change that will turn back our time

To an age where our rights had no rights;

It’s you that will suffer for your ignorant crime

My greatest hopes’ that you lose sleep at night,


You’ve sold out our country with no care for her souls and left it in the hands of a jackal.

I hope you are happy as he rakes us o’er the coals while he and his ilk writhe and cackle.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Fraught With Danger (Sonnet)

Fraught with danger this daily walk,

As hand-in-hand we battle the foe.

Through foolish acts and foolish talk,

Into the darkness hence we go.

Faith–What faith we question still,

As answers yield no answers forth.

On hands and knees we climb the hill;

The devil tempts our mortal worth.

O’ the struggle, eternal test,

We try yet fail more oft’ than not.

Attempt as we may to do our best

It ends in sin and soul filled rot.

Yet for all our faults and feelings of loss

We’re assured of life through death on the cross.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Gather Round Ye Respectable Folk

Gather round ye respectable folk,

To witness God’s will be done.

Be still your plow and oxen under yolk,

Our cleansing has surely begun.

Ridding our midst of minions from Hell,

Let thy fires rage and consume.

At high noon on the ring of chapels twelfth bell,

Let thine sentence be seal of thy doom.

With bible in hand and righteous indignation,

The minister stern raises hand.

Tossing torch with a grin and pompous resignation,

Burning witches to ash by flames fanned.

Good Salem be freed from Satan’s cursed lot,

As thy God has so vocally commanded.

May their bodies for eternity lie in torment and rot,

Our morality, their souls remanded.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


AUTHOR’S NOTE: The Salem witch trials occurred in colonial Massachusetts between 1692 and 1693. More than 200 people were accused of practicing witchcraft—the Devil’s magic—and 20 were executed. Eventually, the colony admitted the trials were a mistake and compensated the families of those convicted. Since then, the story of the trials has become synonymous with paranoia and injustice, and it continues to beguile the popular imagination more than 300 years later.  More can be read at the Smithsonian Magazine website

It Rides on Horse With Crimson Eyes (Acrostic)

It rides on horse with crimson eyes

Cleaved head its eternal quest

Hades resurrected, for centuries tries

Avenging soul the Devil blessed


By night the Hollow, Hell on earth

Onerous task in this Sleepy land

Demon slaughters for all its worth

Child and woman and man


Raise its head from unmarked grave

A task of a gruesome sort

Ne’er resting until craniums been saved

Ensure the wrath of the apocalypse four


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


Out of Fear

Worshiped out of fear,

Afraid of divine retribution.

One which allowed murderers,

One which allowed adulterers,

With an apology,

To be King.

You toyed with creation,

Becoming angry as a child

Throwing tantrums

When deprived of your will.

Does death and destruction,

To all but the chosen

Sound reasonable and sane?

With Lucifer as a playmate perhaps.

“Here take my servant,

Do what you will with him,

But do not touch.”

Inflicted with relentless torment,

Sores, anxiety, persecution,

Fear of death,

The game is permitted to continue,

All with your blessing,

To see if he can be broken.

Is this how mercy is shown,

Torturing those that love you?

Finding sport in war and death

Both are waged eternally,

Some with your blessing

Some without,

Either way, surely with a smile.

Sending those in your image to their end

As pawns for your amusement,

This seems to be your sadistic way.

As a final act of brutality,

You offered your son up to despots,

Torturing and degrading him until death,

All to uphold your way of life

And save the monsters which you created.

Would a kind and merciful parent do this to his child,

Instilling them with fear,

Instead of promoting goodness and love?

This question must be answered!

Faith alone does not absolve you of responsibility

For the adulterated state of our being.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Soul Searching

Soul searching…deep and bloody,

A soul pure in its ignorance, stunted in cynicism

Bleeds to dull the pain.

This pain is not physical–it is spiritual;

Like thirst, it is teased by the eternal mirage.

Crawling through the sand, it sifts through my fingers

As sand through an hourglass is bound to do,

Parched, I search on, confused.

History held the answer…their answer for their time,

Passed on, an amalgam of what the past held true.

Each thought they were right, that they knew,

Yet they knew no more than their predecessors,

Just as I know no more than mine.

So I hunt, swallowing pieces of the puzzle;

Never sure of the truth,

Always one piece short.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~


The Bog – A Dark Poem

As fading light danced with drifting fog,

Eerily drawn am I towards croak of frog.

Fast approach ‘cross soggy ground

Within an instant airs void of sound.

No frog, no cricket, no mosquitoes buzz,

For just a moment lost I was.

Then sound of sucking, foot in mud,

Terrified of dying, death in cold blood.

In fear for my life standing stone still,

Uncontrollable shivers as if a cold chill.

Slivers of light from cloud covered moon,

Praying to God it would be over soon.

Out of the shadows arose fanged beast,

Reason why sounds of nature had ceased.

Standing a head taller than tallest man I knew,

Sabre from sheath like lightning I drew.

Mustering courage for fear of flight,

I stood my ground determined I would fight.

From the shadow he stalked nose to the wind,

Catching my scent certain I had sinned.

For what reason would God unleash Satan’s fury,

Except in the hopes under bogs mire bury.

The glint of my blade must have captured his eye,

Like a cat through the swamp grass this evil did fly.

With the swipe of his hand claws hit their mark,

For barely a second the whole world went dark.

Such is my luck that the sabre stayed grasped,

Struggling to my feet with a faint thrust he gasped.

Blood on my blade proved the devil had been hit,

He stumbled and roared and crimson he did spit.

Shaking off the fog and the pain in my chest,

Determined to lay this monster to rest.

I trudged through the mud not a second to spare,

With razor sharp edged to the hilt I did bear.

Snapping his jaws his tail cracked like a whip,

Avoiding the fork as I tottered and slipped.

His anger was evident by his blood curdling cry,

To finish him off it was certain do or die.

Taking his tail with one mighty blow,

It continued to move as if putting staging a show.

With beast so distracted by the lose of his tail,

His color of skin turned obsidian to pale.

I drew back once more committed to his end,

Slice through his neck at the spine blade did bend.

As if made of marble all his thrashing came to a stop,

His head tilted forward, to his knees he did drop.

His eyes that did once glow a fiery red,

Turned a dull shade of black, I knew he was dead.

Exhausted and terrified I fell to the ground,

All of natures creatures carried on their sound.

Thing born of nightmares to be consumed by the bog,

Sinking ever slowly ne’er rising hence to slog.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Imagination – A Tanka


Rouses fear from hidden lair

Racing heart, it pounds

What dangers lurk in shadow

Only the devil doth know


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

Sorry for my scarceness this week I am out of town on vacation and am reading and posting as time permits.  Thank you for your support and I will be back soon.

Demon’s Pawn – A Dark Poem

Echos cascade off these grey stony walls,

Eerie howls toll down shadow darkened halls.

What is the source I would not venture a guess,

Haunting the days into night as it falls.


Hearing their cries during every waking hour,

Crimson eyes glare from medieval watch tower.

Diverting away, surely this mustn’t be real,

With cape drawn up tight beneath I do cower.


Dashing from the castle to my cottage I must run,

Hoping for arrival before the setting of the sun.

Horrors await those found wandering after dark,

Til vengeance be exacted once the terror has begun.


Legend doth tell of the rising of the dead,

Of innocent and guilty who lost their heads.

By creature or demon no one can be sure,

Hide we all did behind locked doors and under beds.


Obscured by shadow and cover of the night,

The beast waged it’s terror hidden from sight.

Unsuspecting victims their lives it did take,

Expressions on their faces was one of pure fright.


How to defend against one you can’t see,

Nowhere is safe were the cries with mercies plea.

Huddled, crouched and muffled in pure fear,

Imaginations run wild, dear God what can it be.


Screams in the distance carried under darkened moon,

Praying for sunrise it can’t come too soon.

As quick as the screams rose they came to an end,

Silence was broken by the song of the oon.


The new day awoke no more need to hide,

Slowly, cautiously door unbolted we went outside.

Blood splattered drag marks we were led on our way,

At the horrible sight women fainted, men cried.


Hanging from a tree bow with nearly severed head,

Hung the body of a stranger mangled, bloodied and dead.

The demon he had struck in a most savage way,

Stringing up the innocent into thin air he then fled.


No footprints nor trace of which way he did leave,

Lowering to the ground for the poor man we did grieve.

Time had passed so quickly as nighttime fast approached,

Picking up the victim for burial we did heave.


Laying him to rest for darkness we prepared,

No one spoke a word of the terror that we shared.

Another night of evil behind bolt and hardened doors,

Hoping to survive proving the Lord our God had cared.


Have mercy on the traveler that knows not what goes on,

The devil lurking in the woods we’re praying that he’s gone.

For centuries we’ve done the same with always the same answer,

In this land of demon’s folly we are nothing but his pawns.


~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~