I was like the Prince of Darkness in a preacher’s robe,
A traveling preacher in the northeast of America
I did the Lord’s work days and night,
The Devil’s work at other times,
Slaying believers with power of the suggestion,
Bringing them to god with well meant deception,
Strangling many unwary women with my hands.
I brought hundreds of people to God in my time,
Ended fifty women’s lives in my dark days.
I had no problem with the contradictory life.
My conscience didn’t care about the infamy.
I was a clever fiend, never got caught,
And I savored everything I killed,
Starting with neighbors’ pets as a child.
I died of a massive heart attack in 1873,
Which was ironic, heartless as I was.
When I knocked on heaven’s door
Thinking God would give me a break
For all those wretched souls I saved
And look the other way about my kills.
And after all, I reasoned, he had made
Me into the half holy half unholy thing,
Preacher monster killer that I was.
But nobody answered heaven’s door
Even though disembodied I’d changed.
I lost my compulsion, the thrill of the kill.
The preacher in me took completely over.
And even though I worked for Satan some,
I didn’t want to go to his world of torments.
So in my ghostly form I roam the world
From church to church praying and confessing
With the hope of enough sincere atonement
Heaven’s door will eventually open to me.
Bob Boyd
