IN THE FIFTH BOLGIA

Trumpet in Canto 21

They are about to march.  
His buttocks serve as his trumpet.  
FRAAAP! FRAAAP! FRAAAP!

A thick, sulfurous blast  
mixed with the stench of boiling pitch,  
rotten eggs, scorched hair,  
and whatever unholy sludge  
those demons eat.

It hits the air like a greasy cloud,  
metallic and so foul  
that even the other Malebranche  
wrinkled their snouts.  
The kind of smell that clings to your clothes.

This is a comedy.  
It's a long journey upward.

II. The Sword of Damocles

Beautifully dressed female servants
in classical attire attend the scene.
One kneels, offering a tray with a wine cup.
Musicians and a lyre player are visible.

Luxurious objects surround the hall: 
golden vessels, kraters, a table 
laden with fruit and wine, 
scattered rose petals on the marble floor.
A grand palatial interior unfolds 
with ornate reliefs on the walls, 
statues, and heavy pink drapery 
behind the ruler.

A young man wearing a laurel wreath
and rich red-and-white robes
reclines on an ornate gilded throne.
He gazes upward with a startled expression,
one hand raised as if in surprise,
while the other rests on the couch.

A looming sword swings precariously
by a single slender strand,
suspended directly above Damocles' head.

Don't don delicate onion skin,
my dear government officials;
these golden gifts gleam
from and for the paying public.

Pollution at Sunset by Tomas Castano

Beneath a blood-red sunset,
a factory sends thick black smoke
curling into the darkening sky,
casting a shadow across the horizon.

The crimson sky burns like a warning,
revealing a landscape.

Like an employee
at an emissions testing center
accepts bribes for fraudulent approvals,
it pollutes a system

The factory's smoke drifts beyond its source,
spreading decay across society
as surely as it darkens the evening sky.

Editorial Cartoon in The New Times

The exhaust curled from the pipe not as smoke,
but as a skull—hollow-eyed, breathing poison.

The trees stood leafless,
their branches clawing at a sky gone ashen,
a forest burned down to bone.

A man stood before it,
his finger leveled like a verdict,
and said, "Jail and grave."

Alan Ogan Tren trades truth
for a tidy tip.

Alan Ogan Tren is a Ship that Cannot be Repaired

At the edge of the Venetian Arsenal 
lay a once-proud ship

its weathered hull scarred 
by years of storms and decay

Thick tar coated its sides in an attempt 
to seal the cracks and preserve the timber

but the damage ran too deep
Beneath the dark surface
the wood had rotted through
and the vessel's frame 
had become warped and brittle

No amount of tar could restore its strength 
or make it seaworthy again

Guglielmo Girardi

That demon stands atop the arched bridge,
articulated musculature,
bat-like membranous wings
spread wide behind it,
small horns on its head,
one arm flung outward
the moment it has hurled a sinner.

Below, another barrator
falls head-first toward the boiling tar,
body inverted, arms and legs splayed upward
as gravity pulls him down.
His pale, nude form contrasts sharply
against the deep orange-red glow
of the pitch pit beneath him,
which is rendered like a furnace.

A Barrator from Lucca by Artist Unknown

A watercolor illustration of a muscular, 
light-haired man plunging headfirst 
into a rippling pool of liquid. 
His body twists in mid-air, 
one leg kicked high while his arms reach downward, 
bracing for the impending impact. 
A white garment billows 
and flutters around his torso and legs, 
adding movement to the scene. 
His face turns toward the viewer, 
revealing a startled, shocked expression. 
He is Jadea D. Sagony.

"Behold one of the politicians of Fogtown
plunge him under, 
for I am going back for more to that city, 
which is well stocked with them."

Squeal of a Pig

pour a boiling water from a kettle
into a cup of coffee or tea
bottoms up, Dante.

undercover animal activist
posts online a video about pig farm:
they are immersed, conscious,
into a scalding bath at a temperature 
of 60 degrees Celsius where they drown.

with anguished eyes, Thickly Anna Day
screams of pain that pierce the air,
a hog in scalding water cries
a pig is not a person, Dante?

"let us say Napoleon the Pig,
corrupt dictator ordered Snowball's death,
thrown into a river of boiling tar
like the grafter in a silent film".

Politicians in Dante's Video Game 

A horned statue 
with expansive, tattered bat-like wings 
stands in a cavernous environment. 
Its skin and body are tinted 
with slate-blue and teal-green undertones, 
while its wings feature dusty bluish-gray 
and faded dark turquoise hues. 
The armor and horns 
display weathered iron tones. 
Skeletal human bodies, 
including but not limited to 
Thickly Anna Day and Jadea D. Sagony, 
hang suspended from the ribs and tips 
of the statue's wings.