I talketh.
I open my Mouth.
I speaketh unto You
assembled here tonight.
the Lord cometh
in the Guise of a great Reptile.
Fire he does breath,
and with Blood does he quench his Thirst.
I tremble in humble supplication
unto the Wyrm that does prescribe
the manner that each shall Perish.
Enlightenment shall come as Fire,
Salvation shall approach as hopelessness,
and thou shalt be Judged
by thy Belief and the pain
of your Fiery demise.
He cometh and I speaketh unto you:
He cometh in the Guise of a great Reptile.
Posts Tagged ‘Fire’
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Incense – something to burn upon a stick
With many scents, you can take your pick
Pine and pinyon, sandwood, too
They probably even have leather of shoe.
Incense provides a pleasurable smoke
To breath and refresh and relax and stoke
Primeval passions, unleashed from their cell
Let loose from the madhouse by that elusive smell.
So brilliant, so fiery, yet so mellow
It changes, rearranges, and startles a fellow.
A stabilizing factor, possibly disturbed.
Sometimes my appetite has been curbed.
It makes you feel silly, or maybe feel cool
It will make you stand up and sing like a fool.
Now that you’re done, go take a bow
You can tell that I’m sniffing incense right now.
Demon
Posted: March 17, 1987 in PoetryTags: Clouds, Dance, Demon, Fire, God, Monster, Mountains, Night, Satan, Soul, Sound, Universe
From a fiery plateau in the midst of hell
Where all the fabled monsters dwell
Came a sound which split the night
A noise issued to God in spite
On the mountaintop within the inferno
Dance a supreme demon by the name of Mephisto
Or Satan or Demogorgon or the Father of Lies
By whatever name, he is one to despise.
Atop the mountain he gleefully pranced
And it was a mocking dance that he danced.
Below him on the burning plain
Writhed tortured souls without identity or name
Up, up, up towards the heavens they swirled
Lashed onward by the demon way above our world.
Towards the Lord’s throne, up within the clouds
While the universe shook with dreadful sounds.
But the Lord was forgiving and blessed each soul
And tore from them, sin, which kept them so cold.
The more Satan called, the more were rescued
And Mephisto’s stupidity cannot more be eschewed.
For the Lord is supreme, he made me and you
And not to be forgotten, he made Satan, too.
Nature’s Path
Posted: June 1, 1985 in PoetryTags: Cloud, Fire, Force, Grass, Lightning, Nature, Night, Storm, Tree, Wind
Nature’s Path
Of conflicting forces;
From first to last,
Eternal voices.
A group of trees,
The wind is coming.
A gentle breeze,
Inaudible longing.
The clouds are rising
Upon the wind,
Scarcely realizing
The danger within.
Within the glade
The wind is stirring.
The grassy blade,
Secrets burying.
Pressure building;
Night grows near.
Lightning flashes
Its threatening leer.
A fiery streak
From the sky;
A burning tree
Is the reply.
The storm is passing;
The damage is seen.
Burnt trunk lasting,
Disrupting the scene.
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