Calm and collected
There's a power
To amber evening light
The bearer of night
The songs of birds
Resonating in my bones
Rhythm pulsing
In my soul
Alone has never been
So powerful

Desire causes suffering
As Buddha said.

When you try to hard
To find love
You suffer

When you want too
Much for Christmas presents
Suffering comes

When you pursue your
Heritage
Suffering comes a knocking

“When all of your wishes are granted, many of your dreams will be destroyed.”
Said a wise goth rocker.

Here shines the loyal light,
Reminding us of Boxer Manson.
Still standing guard o’er us in Doggy Heaven,
Keeping his family safe throughout the night.

Paul Butters

Cielo  drive up from the bottom they go back to the top of the slide

Reflecting back in time to the night that these five died

Charlie said Leave something witchy and they rode away into the night

Tex was perplexed as he cut that phone wire

Parent was transparent  blood on his attire

Sharon and Jay sat on her bed

In just a few moments they both would be dead

Days before Charlie  duplicated the crucifixion out on the ranch

All the boys and girls caught up in his trance

They took hundreds of trips together and laid in his bed

A Master of word he got in their heads

Hundreds of people Manson wanted DEAD

Krenwinkle  was told to get up out of bed

Go with Tex now and do what he says

**** Sadie was high as hell on  her  life

She got in the car in her pocket a knife

Who are you Jay said  And what IS this?

Tex said "Im the Devil and Im here to do the Devils Business"

( To Be  Continued while i listen to the White Album)

Loons in the vineyard –  sound the alarm !
Satan is milking his metaphors.
Such silly music portends no harm;
call home the cows and open your doors.

Brian Hugh Warner, a paleface freak
after finding his mom’s mascara
darker enlightenment did seek
and crowned himself with Baal’s tiara.

Scary drag-queen, scandalous, vain
Marilyn – the creepy thespian
rolled that fish-eye and snorted *******
like Crowley…  how pedestrian.

Flashing his glowing cataract,
he gave the mommies quite a fright.
Censorship launched; no badder act
did sail (or assail) our sinking night.

Gothic dim-wits purchased CD’s
bought the goods, pierced parts, wore black.
(Cause for certain parents’ unease:
MTV’s Antichrist on the attack).

Son of Man – or rather, Manson
Milked to the max his demonic cow;
playing Satan’s naughty grandson
showing the flustered milk-maids how.

Urban legend surrounds this fowl
(those ribs removed – like Adam’s sin!)
Is he a misunderstood night owl –
or a has-been loon in a loony bin?

Rock-stars age (well, most) like a cheap wine.
or else in the way once-ripened grapes
withering, sun-struck, off the vine
transform, with age, into wizened shapes.

No – I am wrong. They age like prunes;
plums thus pass into their glory.
Even Luciferian loons
find lakes of fire at end of story.

1969 Cult Mentality: Charles Manson
is asking you to “leave a sign… something witchy” at the scene of the
crime.  You listen because you believe he is Jesus.  You smear the word
                                                                ­                           “Pig” across the door.

1978 Cult Mentality: Jim Jones
is asking you to drink grape Kool-Aid infused with cyanide.  You do this
because you have been convinced that he is “Christ the Revolution.” You
                                 inject your child with the toxin before gulping it down.

1997 Cult Mentality: Marshall Applewhite*
is asking you to tie a plastic bag around your head after you consume a mixture of phenobarbital, applesauce, and *****.  You do this because you believe dying will take you to the spacecraft flying behind
Comet Hale-Bopp.  You make sure you have a
five dollar bill and three quarters
                                                         in your pocket for the interplanetary toll.

Ole Hunchback
Got a right Royal burial;
That smiling villain's bones
Bleached black-blonde
In underground parking.
Exhumed and parlayed
For over two years;
Confirmed to be he
Who caused a Queen
To cry vats of tears
For the Tower boys.
Poor Anne dropped her hankie.
His horse-drawn caisson
Is a subterfuge,
A distraction to veil
Civil dissatisfaction.
He finally got his horse,
And we get the droppings.
And I see Cromwell
Standing beside Churhill
And Charles ouside
Westminster.
Perhaps Manson
Will be busted
In Poet's Corner.

Manson's singing soaking them with
the silken sound of ***
His throat tearing with sweat and
blood
The way you'd like your
fabric skin torn
away
As he pours a flood of
need down your
throat and
legs
You want to beg for
mercy and more
Beg until your body is sore
with the pill of a breath
The sound of his pain
makes you feel bereft
and touched
too much
not
enough
don't
stop

His voice grabs the audience's crotch
Be obsene

"Light a candle for the sinners"
"Light a fire"

You could burn a country with this audience's
desire

Manson is ******* them.
And they ******* love it.