Stone Pen

The pain of Shuruk Ra...By Roy Johnson

Fuck me, fuck me, thou fallen prophet,I hate you. Aw, stop
it stop it, no! His mighty thrust into her paves way to The
screeching echoes, galloping The cold white stone walls of her
corridors; The hollow of The kings hall bleeds The moans of
faintness. Her crying, is not of suffering, but tears of joy.

Nathans challenge is now shame. Why would such a man as
this king send you unto me? You lay me down upon my back,
now you cannot show your face anymore unto The wisdom of
this land. Go, leave me you prick, they would surely stone you
for fornicating my pleasure. Death is my brother, my daughter
is wiser than Solomon, yet, you come to me with these words. I
taint your soul with droplets of passion, my fruit is scorched
by your sun.

Nathan rose up from her bed; his love is now disgrace;
disgusted with her, he spat upon her face. Just as I spat upon
you, so shall The Lord spit upon your bed, you whore!
Thousand and ten thousand thousands have fallen your
beauty, but I am here to prophesy unto you that you are
wasted as The wine upon this floor. He lifted The stone from
The corner, yes The edge of where dainties beguile Many. He
thrust downward, smashing her skull; spattered blood paints
The salt stone, warmth embeds itself into coldness, she is dead.

He walks away, stain filled robe. As The former kings hands
are dirty, so are mine. I wash my hands of this evil, The land
and The innocent will no longer fall prey to this snare. I have
done The deed of The Lord.

Through The hall of The castle, before The gates of passion, a
chuckle resounds. Nathan's heart, a snag it felt. It is fear,
something he's not tasted before. He turns, before him stands
Shuruk Ra, God of passion, un-tainted, full of beauty, her
eyes, as The fullness of two moons, she heckles.

Do you think you could possibly destroy me, oh mighty
Nathan of The prophets? Your thrusting, was that of your
own sword. The smashing stone was that of your heart, ripped
from your very chest. And my tears are of triumph, for you
have fallen your own deceit. Look down my beloved child, it is
your blood and not mine. Having eyes full of revenge, you fail
to see your own lust. Surely you could not have imagined that
you could touch me without my permission? Before your
father knew your mother, yes, before this dust underneath your
feet, did I pave this day. My plot is fulfilled, my pleasure is
to see your pain. Now go, kiss my brother, for it is your last
kiss, oh mighty man of God!

Nathan felt his blood filled robe, his touch stifled sharpness, a
whimper gave way to his pain. The stone was that of flesh, his
heart is torn, death is sure. Upon his knees he did fall, yes, at
The feet of Shuruk Ra he did bow. It is a dreaded day, yes,
that day In which time lost record of The death of The mighty
prophet Nathan.