The Beast has no fears or tears…



The deep voice foul and inflamed cast its disgusting

face toward the gentle and the brave. Some said do

not listen to the lusting rage of the golden haired

Beast who wants to be called prince. He scorns the

Justice of God; the Beast rages on day and night, it

never recoils. Many minds quickly became splintered

fissures, torn by the evil of this Beast; these people,

their minds seized could see no guilt in its actions, or

those who encouraged his deceit.


Greed gives power to those who listen to the Beast with

its insatiability to rule and those who praise its vices,

their lives become fully surrendering to their blindness.

The darkness that the Beast spreads across the land is

called doomed; it is a mockery of what the people once

knew. Does no one oppose this creature from Hell? No,

they soon become weary souls lost within the claws of

its contamination. The Beast is spreading a life of

splendor, all the while depriving many souls of truth.


This Beast is a serpent, those who follow in its path

become deaf to its words, and he claims to be godlike.

It dwells above human law, as people walk a dark,

narrow and steep path to build his greatness, his

followers will struggle in slime while the Beast

spreads its rage. The air that once smelled sweet

now nothing more than a stench of a murky swamp,

most choking on the wrath that one must endure to

please and promote the Beast who is untouchable in

the highest of places looking down upon its own created



The Beast has no tears or fears, damned are those who

praise its glory, damned are those who wallow in its

kingdom feeling the gnashing of its teeth. It is the wailing,

deplorable and unceasing, that will be heard over what

was once the land of greatness and plenty. Laughter can

be heard within the walls of those who served him. The

gentle Sage will come and the Beast will turn its head

away. There will be fear and anguish, people will see the

heat of his messages go cold, the beast will fall before the

people, and it will have no words. He will walk into hell

unhindered and descend upon the path trembling, his

time over, his voice stilled by the Sage.







Author: Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree

Artist/Writer of Fiction, Poetry, Prose and Thoughts, Opinions Born in Alabama to a Native American (Chickasaw) father and an emotionally absent mother since the Author's birth, raised by her father, her Native American great-grandmother and an African-American woman whom were all grand storytellers. As early as four years old she was roaming the countryside around her home alone or with her father; and at night she sat at the feet of these strong-minded individuals listening to the stories of their lives. Summers she lived with her fathers' sister in Birmingham, Alabama; it was that she would discover a library, and mingle with her aunt's circle of friends that included local writers, artist, and politicians. A cabin deep within the Black Warrior Forest was her playground on the weekends. Her aunt encouraged her imagination by introducing her to journaling, which she filled with stories over the summer. Planted was the desire to write, a seedling waiting to spurt from the warm southern heart of a child. Her love of art and painting came through the teachings of a grammar school teacher which she pursues when the well of words dry up when writing. Throughout the years along with her father, great-great-grandmother, and her beloved Aunt Francis, other influences were her high school English teacher Mrs. S. Odom, writers Faulkner, Capote, Fitzgerald, and Harper Lee. Later in life, she discovered the warm and comic writing of Grace Paley. The vivid poetry of William Carlos Williams; the strong poetry of Phyllis McGinley, and the world's most exciting women, Maya Angelou are some of the poets at the top of her list. Nonetheless, with adulthood, the desire to write buried itself deep within, the dream wilted but did not die. It laid dormant, gaining experiences all written in hidden journals. These experiences, the contents of these journals became short stories and poetry reading to share with the world. She writes of many life experiences in poetry format; questioning everything from Mother Nature to God...the poetry is raw and may not be understood by all. Yet, it comes from deep within and reads of truth within her soul. The harshness that shrouded her life would cause her to withdraw from most of the world; it fills the pages of her writing, the heartache, the abuse, and the denial her mother frankly portrayed. Today, she enjoys her children, grand and great grandchildren, her four-legged companion Mason, they live in Southern Wisconsin...far from her southern roots; however she continues to write and paint daily. Ann has published in Kindle eBooks and paperbacks at Book #1 Echoing Images from the Soul 2012 Book #2 Beyond the Voices 2012 Book #3 Reflections of Poetry 2013 Book #4 Honeysuckle Memories 2013 Book #5 Sachets of Poetry on Adoration, Anger, Asylums and Aspirations 2014 Book #6 My Journey into Art 2014 Book #7 Asterial Thoughts

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