Poetry in motion

the two phrases in French you need to know;
1) je ne parle pas bien francais- I don’t speak good french
2) ou’est la toilette?- where’s the bog?
(some accents meant to be there but can’t be arsed to include them)

the Leviathan
rises from the oceans
deep, and with breath
of fire, boils the sea

The Behemoth
wades out of its
charnal pit and charges
desolation marks its path

The brother to these
horrid fiends is of name obscure
while they were made to destroy
this one was made to soar

high above the clouds
a guardian of nature
the Ziz with wingspan vast
flies overhead, its tail a rainbow
soothing its brothers back to
slumber until the judgement day

I told a Lie
mayhaps a while a go.
Too much time for it
to fester and grow

Today the Lie
hatched from its egg
and from its hideous form
it raised an ugly horned head

It then bellowed
and screamed
until it was noticed
its content more dire
than first it seemed.
Denial would be hopeless

It latched onto my back
and called bloody murder
its insidious attack
embedding guilt further

Its crying grew louder
its bulk grew more dense
until, tears rolling, I stated
‘I drop this pretence’

Startled the beast fell
off of my back
a shocked look on its face
as its carapace began to crack

I watched stunned
as the horror shed its form
and something beautiful emerged
as the Truth it was reborn.