the hunchback moves with the pews
alongside children and their man
who, stiffening under his corduroy,
sits behind his services.
so lost in a translation and a tot.
hunched, i could wail
the miracle of touching in the blind.

beneath the steeple, i am told,
dirt in the eye makes it whole.
beneath the scabbed ground,
are families who wore denim
even in portraits
even when mangled with steel on the interstate.
above, i am so very lonely.

i am told they were buried in pairs.
the children’s man tells me the caskets
were closed for the service.
i want to tell him i never asked.
nevertheless,
he involves himself with the bodies
like a shard in the night.
he and the tender middle,
pinned among ashes and ashes.


(oh god can you see

the soil

and your shepherd’s hand heading down to meet it?)


the hunchback under paper bedsheets
is a behemoth of all exterior.
touch him, tangle with it.
peeled open to the innards,
and in resignation,
there are sadder truths under the skin.
small as nail clippings on the linoleum
and me tossing myself onto the spike.

in whatever misshapen ****** i barter,
i know i still breathe like you do.
placing it all here, then,
at the holy foot of
every physicality i am mangled with,
it is a simple confession-

that you can’t know how this could be tears me apart.

Drown the child in the holy water
It must be a demon cause it struggles beneath the hand
It wants to live
Let it go limp
Dreamy pink and blue surrounds the child in the water
Watch as the light leaves it's eyes
And the colors fill it
At least now it won't ask so many questions

Born Clarendon Square, 1875

11th year, father and hero dies

Mother's moniker, The Great Beast

Carries proud 'til rest in peace



Scripture's words so clearly lies

One off the wrist and women's thighs

Such morals never suit The Beast

On original sin, so does he feast



Red light women, gonorrhoea

Inhale and hold, but have no fear

Bow to none beneath the sky

Affliction, addiction, getting high



Poetry, prose, philosophy, chess

Science, literature, quite the quest

Majestic Monch without a guide

Dispel the darkness deep inside?



A new Sunrise, The Golden Dawn

To most, The Beast is but a thorn

From all the hate, he does defend

"I shall endure until to the end"



A crashing bore, The Golden Dawn

Such petty games, reject them all

Traverse the world and left in awe

In India, sombre spirits soar



The Savage Mountain scrapes the sky

Never scaled yet still must try

Brash bravery, they do not lack

No savage spoils, men beaten back



Convenience ties Beast and Rose

Affection hankers hard to show

Rosa Mundi and Love Songs

One lake of molten joy, one pond



In Egypt, Prince invokes the Gods

Great Horus comes, the Equinox

Aiwass speaks, so Beast does score

A new Aeon, Book Of The Law



On Nepal's peak, his peers they die

Attempt descent beneath dark skies

For such a loss bears all the blame

To climbing clique, ne'er the same



With Godhead now is unionised

As hashish opens the Third Eye

Meagre means and thus provides

Tankerville's peace is bonafide



A∴ A∴ heart, see how it glows

Tree Of Life they seek to grow

A flower's bloom begins to fade

Whilst sadly withers in the shade



The Beast now pens The Book Of Lies

His Scarlet Woman within resides

And for *** Magic does devise

"Contra Naturam", come inside



World War One, it rakes the Earth

While Wilhelm is as Jesus birth

Did The Beast truly betray

A country that had held his sway?



Thelema Abbey, hear its call

Lewd libertine within these walls

Loveday discovers only death

Benito brings its final breath



To man, a prophet is declared

Thelema's message, for to spread

Magnum opus, now complete

Of France, fair punishment is mete?



High on Hell's Mouth, his heart it breaks

But both black ink and leap are fake

War once again now rakes the Earth

Will Blackshirts bond Thelema's church?



War service scorned by N.I.D.

The face behind the Victory V?

Olla: Sixty Years of Song

A final book, the last swan song



Hasting's last battle is now lost

The Great Beast feels the final frost

"A Black Mass", many tabloids cry

Cold ashes now in Hampton lie



Amoral man, your heart did sing

Black ballads of the blackest dreams

Listen and there's still the screams

Of Thelema's ghosts, it seems





Copyright © Craig Detheridge.

2015 - 2017.

Was Jesus an impersonator
Or the original son of the creator
Did he steal ones name
Then get all the credit and fame
Lying about
Hanging about
Lazily wandering about
The non factual stuff he was saying
No wonder we still have heaps of doubt
Maybe, he could tell a great bedtime story
If so, did he copyright it all
And will he sue for defamation
Or was he just like the rest
Just after all the worlds glory
While I inside hiding
The real source of his information
All things come and go
Like World Leaders, Empires
Big Bang Theories & Co
He went on trial, then got lucky
Had groupies follow him  
Hundreds of miles, along the Nile
Do you think
He will bother to give us a call
Before he comes back down
To judge us all
Gee time flies
When you believe in yourself
Hope I'm still here, if he returns
To at least defend myself
Jesus Christ, Oh my God
God just spoke to me
Looks like, I'm the chosen one
He said, get ready
Then, wait for his text
For I'm up next
For has anyone ever bothered
To do a family tree search
If you did, you would know that dad
Had more than just the one son
We have the same DNA as mum
But dad emptied his spirit
Into, not just the one ****** bowl
So next time you hear
The almighty word from ones mouth
Listen carefully from deep inside
Ones very own memory soul
Remember your parents advice
When you were a young youth
Because all creatures born on earth
Instantly know the meaning of ones life details
So don't ever think
You are the chosen black sheep
In your family’s fairytales
Live your life, fly like a bird
Just be Happy and Free
And be one with your creator.

It's not time to have a crusade

Just settle down, take it slowly

You're still naive, that's your culture

There's so much you have to do though

Find a cause, totally commit

if you want you can join

Look at me, I am wise, but I'm content


I was made for this life, yes indeed

You were made for this life, with me

and I can't get enough of this life

Can you get enough of me?


Welcome to the Grand Cathedral Deluxe

Such a heavenly pad (Such a heavenly pad)

Such a heavenly pad

Plenty of spirit at the Grand Cathedral Deluxe

Very nice indeed (Very nice indeed)

You can get a feed


You may say I'm a believer

But I'm not the Holyfield one

I hope someday he'll help us

And the church will pray as one


They can't go on preaching

With deviant minds

And we can't enjoy our youth

'cause of deviant minds


Like at *******

felt for the very first time

Like at *******

when you get goosebumps [out in public, makes you feel bad]

Priest don't mind


Everywhere there sinning now

I'm surrounded by your members

Father, I can see your demon

You know you're my trusted place

You're everything I trust and adore

It's written all over your face

Father, I can see your demon

Pray ya won't mess me about


'Cause your gettin' baptised alright

And no one's gonna save you from the priest about to sin

You know your baptised, baptised alright

You're screaming for your life, inside the confession box, baptised alright


We don't need no vandalism

We don't need no higher order

No dark secrets in the cloakroom

Preachers leave them boys alone

Hey preacher leave them boys alone

All in all you're just another ***** in my life

All in all you're just another brick in my life


Cause if you liked it, doesn't mean you can put ya stick in it

If you liked it then you should've got a grown-up with a hole in it

Don't get mad, once you see that he's 'bout to blow

If you liked it then you should've got a blowup with a hole in it


Let me wait for him to get so near to me

Creepy Cardinal Priest

Drop your ******* and stop your abuse

Creepy Cardinal Beast

Bring it on

Afraid?

Pray Ay Ay Ay

Pray Ay Ay Ay Ay

Pray Ay Ay Now

"A child may not be
considered a piece of property-
only the child possesses genuine rights
the Right to be respected as a person
from the moment of his conception"
He was born in the year 1964
A world on the brink of splitting open,
On the edge of revolution, progress, protest

The stained glass windows speckled from the rain
Incense and old wood covered in fingernail imprints
Matching those on the sides of his arms
A small choir singing hymns of Salvation and Praise
His mother nudges him "stand up straight, eyes forward"
A mind wandering from the homily on Sacrifice
To the images of bombings in Hamburg

Adorned with black and white collars
Gripping an unlabeled wine bottle
The children sprinted through the wooded trails
Mud spattering across their legs and dress shoes
The others spun in circles, as if trapped in jewelry boxes
Their ankles dressed in pink ribbons
This was no place for innocence and imagination
But one of penance and prayer

He kept his toy cars and trains in a green metal box under his bed
It wasn't much, but they were his
Through them locking him in the closet for hours
And being told to not speak unless spoken to
The times of self expression, of emotion, feeling
Shamed and forced suppression - turned to repression
These cars and trains, they were his

Mental illness is a myth
Suicide is a mortal sin
We decide who you are
You cannot feel
Kneel down
Be quiet
Say your prayers