HELMUT'S INFERNO

Hell, met by helmet-wearing Helmut.
His well-protected head never thought being told to go to hell ill-considered advice.
‘ADD-A-VICE’ is on a sign to advertise a hellish special offer,
That, like everything else here, is a damn con!
Helmut carries on gazing upon all manner of infernal sights
Unimaginable tortures inflicted through eternal nights.

For their sins, damned denizens are forced to endlessly watch Australian soap operas,
Musical accompaniment comes from the soaps’ cast members,
Badly singing their one-time hit songs with their cheesy grins.
The only thing worse than a never-ending torment is one that never begins!
Dread of the dead fills Helmut’s shielded head,
Perhaps he should have heeded Dante’s warnings or those of Milton instead.

Too little, too late, Helmut muses as a procession of tardy midgets on the march,
Count out loud with each and every step.
Putting his best foot forward, he feels a wave of overpowering guilt,
For assuming his stationary foot’s somehow inferior or not as well-built.
Guilt-ridden and confused, he stands still feeling ill.

Patting himself down with neurotic, sweating hands, finding he’s mysteriously bruised,
Confused and contused, Helmut wonders why he’s being punished…
If a connection exists between his present and some forgotten victim he’d abused in the past?
‘Bloody hell!’ he cries: it never rains it pours: he’s drenched by a sudden downpour of blood,
Helmut suspects anyone can get wet in hell but no one ever dries.