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Dante Sep 2
The silence which would come after
the breaking of that seal
was my babe in her being;
The dreading and the awe; The christening in God’s grand ritual.
She stands at the mouth of this awful plan
My babe, handing the trumpets with solemn apathy.

   And the rivers of blood are my babe,
       And the plagues that punish are my babe

And nothing comes of begging,
Of pleading for some undeserved mercy
Because my babe is the birth,
and my babe is the end.

My babe is the wing, the fall doused in sleep
And the euphoria of sin, ephemera of earth
The dying and rising of the tides, their gentleness and their bringing.
The silence and the peace as it turns to blood;
The wave’s wine-loved singsong.

My gentle lover, who held my hand and led me into the waters.
My muddied huntress
who would **** the woodland babes
with dagger and ruthless compassion
to feed me rabbit stew
those sickly nights.

God, God, Were you not all merciful and good?
Release her from your taking,
Drop her from your unforgiving claws,
You; Beast of my life, Slithering King.
There is no end truer than that which you’ve done to me–
Your measly bringing of the end times
shines dim beside the fires of my grief.

Take me to the end of the earth,
Take me into your everlasting loving
My sun, chosen thing of God
who looks at me from a dark cloud;
My babe, In her solemn apathy,
My babe, In the quiet glistening of
her wet cheek.

O Lover, full of grace,
Death servant and God-taken;

       I’ll die. I’ll die.

    My babe, the Lion.
  My babe, the Lamb.
Dante Jul 29
God lied. Women were born from the earth.
Crawled from the sea. Risen from your lake in the wood.
They were made from the dead fires of earth; formed from the ash,
Running, Screaming towards God their name.

It was man who came second.

It was man who was God’s afterthought,
pulled from the side of the almighty Woman.
If you don't know by now, all my writing on women includes trans women.
I wonder if you know
how often I pass
that church door where we kissed
(and kissed, and kissed)

Or how I'd desecrate
a thousand more
just to do it again
(and again, and again).

It feels now like a deal with the devil,
and too good, it lasted as long as one would.
For rapturous blasphemy, for ludicrous bliss,
I sold all my fears for just one shot at this.

I wonder if you know
that we are our own devils,
that nothing's contracted
that can't be redacted

That we spin our own fates
and can re-thread our revels -
Did you know? But you must,
(you must, you must.)

Yet I'm sure that you won't
and that all that we built
is crumbling, returning,
To dust, to dust.
Ciel Feb 12
Her beauty was almost sinful,
but taking my eyes off of her
would have been blasphemous.
OpenWorldView Sep 2018
On the devil's back
I will harvest death.
Even he is not as lifeless
as my existence.

Evil, fear and terror
are the new allies
that stand by my side.

God must cry.
Looking into my eyes
he will recognize himself
and burn the world to the ground.
Wrote that many years ago.
Emma Nov 2018
I am so proud, so indefatigable in defence of myself.
You bring me down, down to my knees, hard enough to make me bleed, grit in the wounds and
I will kneel here, while you circle, show you my devotion if you would but look;
I am little more to you than a supplicant.
Oh feel my hands clasped together in prayer, whispered words that wind their way round you;
Feel my wanting, feel my wine drunk breath, holy communion is so close at hand.
You could take me palm to palm,
Kisses just like saints have done,
Know that I burn for you, on my hands and knees.
I’ve never begged before, but for you I’d pray
For you I’d wait forever, in sanctity and ablution till my skin grew cold beneath holy waters.
'fore he cold-shouldered
cold feet in Gethsemane,
Christ had caught a chill.
'One of you here tonight will
- Achoo-das! - betray me.'
Alexx Luceanu Oct 2018
Chasing high to be like you,
Be as cool and have money too,
I could do wrong but who gives a ****,
As long as I’m famous I’m guaranteed nothing but luck.
Where are your morales when all else seems wrong,
No wonder no **** has anywhere to belong.
@copyright 2018 Luke Wallace
xaiv vos Sep 2018
harsh lessons came with lesions on my skin
i spoke too little or i spoke too much
i didn't speak soon enough

harsh lessons taught to save me from sin
thinking too broad and wearing clothes too thin
crucified for a peace of mind

harsh lessons left a lasting impression
memories flashing into my vision
blinding my traumatized eyes

biting my blasphemous tongue
blood is thicker than water
i choked on chastity
Domagoj Aug 2018
Sacred blood,
dripping from wooden cross.
Washing them away,
with ****** tears of her loss.
Dethroned king cry,
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
Heavens silent it remain,
their son of God died in vain.

From holiness of her mother womb,
through this cold world to left alone in tomb.
Immaculate divine,
shall cast pearls before swine,
glory and pride will perish,
it shall bow in front of lord of mine.
On the right side of God, Eden's excrement,
it shall see morning star on their firmament.

Under thy wing, holy trinity destruction,
angels standing on the brink of extinction.
I thirst for waters of Ain,
I commend my spirit to the Satan domain.
As I break tablets of covenant over their calf of the gold,
I shall unleash infernal flames and turn world into cold.
Our scream goes through cosmo, Adonai can hear,
fallen angels shall return to the heavens and he will fear.

Marching through house of God,
bringing annihilation.
I open the seventh seal,
brining death over their creation.
Bringer of the light standing above the heavens,
trumpets blow for his coronation.
Wield with his banner over thy land,
for its uprising damnation.

Woman, behold your son.
By thy touch of the left hand of God,
he will succumb.
Father, forgive them, for they know not what they are doing,
praying to their Elohim, not knowing for the real king.
by the times it end, world stop turning,
heavens reduced to ruin,
Sinain will be burning.
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