Destroy all that is holy
The "good" are weak and lowly
Satanic Creatures of The Night
Ascend & descend...
See them rise...

In communion with The Horned One
Curses & Spells are placed on The Altar
Wishes are granted & Hexes are done
Execution of "god", then The Devil is praised
AVE SATANAS! We have Our way
The wings of Lucifer ride The Dark Skies
Eyes of Baphomet hypnotize
If you walk upon The Black Flames of Satan
Your destiny to rule The Earth!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Portion of one of the first Draconian poems chrononologued resurrected from The Abyss of The Mind. More to manifest as itis fully repossessed.



Deep in the heart of hell,

the river bleeds hate,

there in the nests of perdition,

a jungle unforgiving,

he contemplates the maddness,

which has infected him


A world devoid of light, morality lost,

life nothing but a bad joke,

death well worth the price of admission

to give it is mercy to the pitful animals,


Freedom, the maddness of choice,

left alone to do as "thou will",

to kill in boredom, solitary dementia,

forgetting the horrors out there,


a broken mirror, a shattered image,

leaving the pieces scattered, the scars

are necessary to the becoming,


To be released from the cell,

that has perpetuated the cancer,

to be killed and sink forever,




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The big train ride to New York City (with an afterword by my underpants)

So I was drinking and all that and
Had enough of Chicago at the moment
So I hopped a train to that big Ol' Apple they call New York City 
Biggest Apple I've ever seen
Nothing but a guitar a half-smile ya know
But that's about enough to get you any damn where in this world if you can perfect it
I went straight to the drink car and spent most of my money
All that booze and adventure propelled me those 23 and a half hours
And the kid next to me
Can't recall his name but I know he was from Yemen
Didn't speak a lick of English but that was alright 
We got along just fine
It was nice to have a shadow for a little while
A woman told me she repairs guitars and that I remind her of Hank Garland
I got nice and lubricated the first train-night and passed out in another passengers seat
Woke up to flashlights and yelling
I opened my eyes and looked out the window 
Thought I was in Europe
Castles and water and all those old things
Pulled into Penn Station and stepped my first feet on that New York City concrete
Harder than Chinese arithmetic that stuff
Wandered out onto 40-something'th street
Hailing a cab is a hell of a chore
Stood by a hotel and after some time a sketchy letter hand- off between my cab driver and an 11 year-old Asian boy who disappears into alley 
 I was on my way
Or so I thought
This was no blueprint trip
Off- the -cuff the whole way
No place to stay
But I figured SOME hostel would take me in
Little did I know ever damned hostel in the city was booked through the weekend
No plans
No disappointment
 As the old wanderer says
I went to a diner on Bowery
Got a grill cheese and a beer
Asked everyone around if they knew a place to lay my head
Hot lead from a passing by nicotine fiend
$225 a night!
Shit, I'll take it at 3 in the morning at this point
Wandering, guitar subway playing, made some money at least, Central Park, ecstasy on a rooftop apartment with 3 strangers, stopping in at every bar in Manhattan to try at least one beer,
It's not true
Everybody in New York City sleeps
Except me
(To be continued)....
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I Kiss Her Apocalypse

I kiss her Apocalypse,

She strums my violet skinny ribs,

I pluck her violin string hair,

finely tuning the walk up the long white winding stairs,


He looks down at us from a prism,

Not a sound to cry,

A Fool laughs,

Just listen,


A new symphony,

Made of old love and sadness,

Of magic made in the throughs of love and madness,

Tightrope walking on Epiphany,


It will never come,



Just the inevitable fall and rise,


I can make something real,

It may be ugly,


Everything makes us happy,


A Falling Fall leaf defines the seasons seed,


to defy beautiful,

I shall not,

It holds it's own hemisphere,

quaking and shaking,


I have been inside for too long,

The break in the gate will not last long,

A slow moving fog,

One last song


I kiss her Apocalypse,

She strums my violet skinny ribs

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The Captain


The Captain orders "Onward, march!"
the endless tramp, tramp of Time.
His right arm directs his Minute men,
and his left arm, the Hour.

To the endless tramp, tramp of Time,
the Captain has seen men cower,
through fearful last moments and dreadful deeds;
brave soldiers, shell-shocked and blasted.

And yet, the Captain's own Time must come,
this history must end,
for man was tuned to a different clock,
to the rhythm of the Eternal.

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