lore

Flaming the Green Faerie

 

  He soaks his cube in Brandy,

Keeping his special spoon handy.

Then Flames upon flames,

Igniting the cube is a dandy.

 

A drink for the fiend

Tis Bohemian Green,

The chalice,  The Glass,  the tincture.

Sugar cube in,

The louche begins 

And the fairy swims in the nectar.

 

Drink if you dare to be merry,

Nothing like sipping a Sherry.

For when you cook the Absynthe right

You’ll be a fool of the Faerie.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

More of a recipe tutorial, I suppose..

dont knock it till you try it.

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Satire on Justice

Folder: 
Perverse & Bazaar

Satyre on Justice 

All rise , to the honourable Name that we Mention
In Justice we stand , or fall at her discretion
Yes, its Her honour,  Yor honour,  and Mine
And it'd be Her honour to Kiss my Behind.
 
Why, whats This you say, Mocking my Court?
She will say, and expect no retort.
Why your honour, your supremeness of grace
May i modestly comment? I speak in good taste?
 
Bespake me  I did to that shrew with conviction 
Decidedly earthbound the jaws of who listen
May i candidly mention your honor,
Your judgement, not right, my life it did squander
 
Ponder a moment, or maybe for two
How easy it is to be courtship, like you.
The grife and hardship left in your wake
Too proud to think as you make no mistake
 
Take this and note it, your court is a farce;
 Its The taxpayer dollar that greases your arse
Truth makes you Shudder at ev'ry  mention
So long to your poet,  dragged off to detention.
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Abdul Alhazred

Folder: 
Poetry

Alhazred was born in Yemen,
Traveling in the known world;
Amassing lore and legend,
And the tales of the fiends.

 

A writer and a poet,
He was educated much.
Geometry, algebra, Alchemy
And magickal incantations' need.

 

From the cup of occult knowledge
He drank deep...
Driving a normal person
To madness or beyond.

 

Alhazred was once a normal man,
With desires like we all can.
He was Arab by birth,
With a pale skin in rebirth.
Being labeled the mad,
As he was once a dad.
But had to eat his child,
By the King of the Palace's might.

 

He wrote down the Necronomicon,
In more than one song...
The obscure, the forgotten,
The suppressed, the rotten.
Never meant to be read;
It causes insanity with speed.
Not interpreted rationally,
The thoughts cause a rally.

 

Alhazred was insane,
By the lore he learned within.
But he wrote clear,
With many a tear.

 

The state of the Universe,
In reality suspense;
Plaything of mad gods at best,
Sewer of evil in the north, south, east, west.

 

Humans dare not dream of this,
For their peaceful lives they cannot miss.
A warning and guide this book is,
And by the Djinns you do wish.

 

Alhazred died, not a mystery,
It is written in history.
In the marketplace,
He was erased.
By the Demon from beyond,
Who wanted him gone.
Blood upon the sand,
There he was banned.
In broad daylight,
With many a sight.

 

He meddled with evil things,
With beings with wings.
He is now dead,
After he bled...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem about the Mad Poet.

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