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GET IN THE BOX *****
GET IN THE Ditch AND Burn

GET OFF THE Soap BOX Preacher
IT Time YOU Took Your Turn

IT'S Pure Hypocrasy
IT'S Heresy IN Your Name
IT'S A Faux Show Fantasy
YOU Wear THE Devil Shame

NO More Lies
NO More Lies
NO More Lies

ALL ARE Fallen Angels
**** THE Preacher
Burn THE Witches

ALL False Idols CAN Burn
ALL False Idols CAN Burn
ALL False Idols CAN Burn
Your Church Will Burn

SO ALL This
SO ALL This
SO ALL This

SO ALL This Rests ON A LIE
Your Right TO Justify
Torture IN THE Name OF GOD

THE Devils Ignorant
Angels ARE Innocent

DON'T YOU Know THE Devils AN Angel Spurned
This Devils AN Angel Burned

GET IN THE BOX *****
GET IN THE Ditch AND Burn

GET OFF Your Soapbox Preacher
This Minds Open NOT TO Learn

Enduring Reality
AS YOU Preach Duality
IT'S Pure Hypocrasy
YOU Wear THE Devil'S Shame

CAN'T YOU SEE YOU'RE Blinded BY THE Light
IN Arrogance YOU'VE Lost Sight

IT'S Reality NOT Duality
This Polarity Seeks TO Resolve
IT'S Solution IS TO Dissolve

Reality
Duality
Polarity
Seeks TO Resolve
IT'S Solution IS TO Dissolve

OF AN Angels Scorn
A Devil'S Born

FOR This Gods OWN Conceit
THE Devil Took HIS Seat
TO Cast Into Hell AN Angel Scorned
AND There YOU'LL Dwell
A GOD That'S Horned

THE Devil'S Ears Bleed AT THE Choirs Song
Justifying OF That Gods Wrong
Merciless Cruelty
NOT A Word OF Dissent
Allowing False Judgement
Blind TO Hypocrasy
THE Devil'S Begrudgement
THE Angels Heresey

TO Cast Into Hell
AN Angel Spurned
AND BY Your Hand
THE Tables Turned
Revoked Your Throne
BY Your Conceit
THE Devil Burns
ON HIS Rightful Seat

DON'T YOU Know IT'S Wrong TO Demonise
IT'S This Arrogance I Despise

DON'T YOU Know IT'S Wrong
TO Touch AN Angels Hair
Knowing IT'S OF Evil WE Both Share
OF THE Fabric WE NOW Tear

AND NOW THE Devil'S IN THE Chair
AND NOW THE Devil'S IN THE Chair
AND NOW THE Devil'S IN THE Chair
AND NOW THE Devil'S IN THE Chair
As if lyrics to an unwritten song from my mid-teenage years;  it was first written as a poem.
Ahmad Attr Dec 2020
1.Distant Voices
‘’….see…at night
…………close your eyes
We will…..
……………………goodbye
……….
We will…….you…..will
……….
In the dark
Dead……………………..park’’
I hear these distant children’s voices
Familiar place so devoid of anything joyous
I wake up from my nightmare
Quickly pick up my dream diary from the chair
I write down the details, all the stages, all the phases
It’s the same dream covering last six pages

2.Janitor
Seven minutes, that’s all
I wait Seven minutes
To let the sugar properly dissolve in the hot milk
Then I pour my cereal in the milk, now lukewarm
Turn on the radio, listen to opera song

Seven minutes, that’s all
I eat for Seven minutes
Then I put grey suit on my lanky body
Final look in the mirror, the sadness I embody

Leave my home at eight
Seven minutes that’s all
A walk distance, never late
Straight to the mop; wet,
Straight to the bucket; yellow
No greetings, not even a hello
A janitor working at Lucy Fernando’s Café
Hardly a triple digit pay for a day
Getting old and frail, what can I say

Seven hours that’s all
Then home all day
Home, that smells faintly of gasoline
Grey chipping walls, dark and unhappy
But I keep it clean

And when the sun begins to drown
I pick up my pallet go near my easel
I paint for hours and feel so peaceful
I paint girls looking jolly and gleeful
Perfect vessels for everything evil
The only talent I have is what I hide
The only thing I hold with pride  

Seven hours that’s all
For Seven hours I sleep
Wake up and put the milk on heat
Seven minutes, I let it dissolve the sugar
As I brush my decaying teeth
Days will go on as long as I choose to breathe
Days will go on, unless a saviour sweeps me off my feet

3.Beauty By The Bus-Stop
That day underneath the ocean sky
Stood an enchantress, a spell caster
No less than a fortune that she caught my eye
Chills to the bones, and heart raced faster

Her almond eyes, and hazel iris
Her pointed nose and elven ears
less of a damsel more of a siren
Her peach skin and cherry lips
Chocolate hair hanging to the curve of her back
Strawberry hands right to the tips
Chills to the spine, and heartbeat skips

Her orange sweater over a chequered skirt
Her camel shoes oscillating back and forth
Heels to toes, toes to heels, heels to toes
What a blessing on the Earth
What a blessing on us
A beauty waiting for her bus

I gazed at her long enough to make her a prisoner,
In my eyes, so I could shape her splendour
Through my paints and brush; nothing sinister
And when I’m done with my masterpiece
I throw it on the rest of them; joins the family, another sister



4.Number 7:
I had the same dream last night
It is the seventh time now
I feel dizzy, I know I’m old but this doesn’t feel right
I managed to get myself on the road
Six people in my peripheral sight
Following me, wearing all black
Chains and long gowns,
I can’t go back
So I run to my job with my antiquated legs
I managed to escape, straight to the mopping I go
I wash the floor but the water appears red
And the walls begin to fold into each other
What is happening? What is wrong with my head?
Is it an illness or is it a hex?
When I went home, the street was clear unlike my dread
And there I was, lying on my bed
Suddenly my body twisted, my limbs all bent
‘’Save me oh Lucifer’’ involuntary I said
‘’Lucifer’’ ‘’Lucifer’’ again and again
I know it was wrong but it was euphoria that ran
All over my body
I couldn’t see anything, it was all too cloudy

And then I heard a voice
Perhaps coming from my own mouth
‘’Join us, our brother, become the number seven’’
‘’lend your body to him’’
‘’besides you are never making to heaven’’
It was the piercing sound of an explosion
That help me snap out of it
As the news came in, trembling my core
Lucy Fernando’s Café is no more

5.The Field:
I wake up in a burnt corn field
In my hand is a lantern
I held my shaking hand straight
Ambling slowly to get of here
Finally I see a light alluring me near
It is my house and the room is lit
Coming towards the window a silhouette appears
A tall man with horns on head, maybe, it’s just too unclear
I sense the aura of power, malfeasance and vanity from him
the only thing I feel from me is fear
But my feet keep walking towards him
Like a moth to a light
And I hear his demonically enchanting voice
He whispers
‘’What does it feel like to be touched?
What does it feel like to taste the meat?
What does it feel like to look fair?
What does it feel like to dance on your feet?
Giveth thy body to me
And thou shall regain the desired beauty and youth
shall thy worry of expiry be gone
together we shall rule’’
I shout ‘’No’’, ‘’Never’’
I feel the wrath taking over my body and crushing me
I open my eyes from this terrible dream
Lying on my side with neon red clock in front of me
I feel his hands around my neck choking me
Cold, strong hands suffocating me
I try to fight but I can’t
I try to raise my voice but I can’t
My body doesn’t move
My eyes don’t close
It is my time to go, resisting is of no use
But soon I was let go of
I was given a second chance
Either by god
or the unholy lord

6.Rag Doll:
I am afraid to close my eyes now
What pain is waiting on the other side
I lay awake in my fear but somehow
I give in,
I’m falling from the sky
I look down far below me there is an ocean
I freak out but slowly I give up
Nothing I can do even if I try
I gaze at the big orange sun with squinted eyes
Slowly falling into golden ocean along with me
And then I enter the water my feet first
Everything slows down and my body is immobile
One last look above and then I sink
Slowly descending
What a view as if from a painting
Shoals, manta rays, dolphins
Slowly descending
Effortlessly breathing
The blue gets darker and darker
I can no longer see the light peering through the water
I can no longer breathe, But my body is still petrified  
The dark gets even darker
And the last thing I see is ancient rune carved on a rock
I see it and hear a scream, I feel pain strong enough
To get me out of the nightmare

I am afraid to close my eyes now
What pain is waiting on the other side
I lay awake in my fear but somehow
I give in,
I’m on a surgical bed
Anesthetized with two deformed doctors over my head
They grab scalpel, cut open my cranium
I am still half-conscious but I can’t move
I feel everything, every cut
I want to scream but my mouth is sealed shut
Until I hear a scream I wake up

I am afraid to close my eyes now
What pain is waiting on the other side
I lay awake in my fear but somehow
I give in,
I’m tied to the ground with chains
And my younger self is in front of me
Looking down on me with disdain
His gentle hand holds a knife
He swiftly cuts my finger
I want to scream in agony, in pain
But once again
I struggle to make a sound but all in vain
He stabbed me, sliced me and slashed me open
My flesh lying on the floor all dispersed
My bones scattered in pieces all broken
But somehow I’m still alive
Until I hear a scream and open my eyes

I am afraid to close my eyes now
What pain is waiting on the other side
I lay awake in my fear but somehow
I give in….

7.Give Up And Give In
I peer outside through the curtains
Six men holding hands
There is no way I can run
I have tried calling 911
But the wires have been cut off
I hear chanting all around my room
I can’t help but fall asleep again
And then, there I am in the corn field
With him in my house and me outside it
He whispers
‘’I desire thy body
My brethren long for my return
I shall bring thee delight
As long as thou become my vessel
As long as thou lettest me unleash my might’’
‘’Take it, I give up’’ I say
‘’Take it, I give in
Take my body, end my suffering
Take me, lord of sin’’

8.Rebirth
Show them no mercy
Give them sorrow, show no sympathy
Take the world on which you fell
Make them beg for pity, show them hell
Bring life to the beauties from my paintings
Make them your worshipers, the witches
Let’s dance on the heaps of bodies
Let’s bring out the darkness, and the beauty that lies in it

I was a measly insect, being crushed
Scared to speak
Scared to leave
But still latched to false beliefs
I only wished for a kinder world
Such a joy you brought in my life
Now I will live deliciously

Bring down the meaningless buildings
Melt these bleak, lifeless cities
Make them grovel, make them bow
Show them who’s in power now

I can’t help but to love me
When I look in the mirror,
Can’t help but to love what I see
Green serpentine eyes
Black hair and wings, sturdy body
face glimmering with youth
I can’t help but to love you

Stay here with me
Never leave, keep loving me
Your perfect vessel of a body
Such Heavenly feeling
I can’t help but cry seeing such a magnificent sight
Stay by my side
Soon it will be the death of light
Don’t let go of me
Stay by me
Stay with me
Stay in me


9.We Will See You At Night
We will see you at night
As soon as you close your eyes
We will meet you
As soon as your soul says goodbye
To your body
We will greet you, We will say hello
Isn’t it pretty?
In the dark
Dead flowers in a forgotten park
We will see you there again
Beneath the tree with hanging men
We will see you
Oh we WILL see you
Are you saying you won’t?
Are you sure that’s what you want?
Either way we will see you at night
As soon as you close your eyes
As soon as you turn down the lights
Away from everybody
We live here in nowhere
Mere young dead bodies
Are here for you, to care
So reach out your hands to us
And let go
We will cry with you
We will laugh with you
We will be your home
So let go
Let’s gaze at the swirling dark sky
Engulfing the light
Let’s pacify ourselves
By feasting on the flesh left and right
You can say no for now
But we will see you again tomorrow night
No one else will see you
No one will notice you
So let go
Let us show you the darkness
True light, that is of moon
In a sky that is starless
Paint you in the blood of fresh carcass
Hold our tiny hands
We are alone
Stuck here ever since we fell
Guide us to hell
To our deliverance
Hold our tattered hands
Become one of us
You will be loved
Reach out your hand and trust us
We will be here
Beneath the tree with hanging men
We will see you there again
Dead flowers in a forgotten park
In the dark
Isn’t it pretty?
We will greet you, We will say hello
To your body
As soon as your soul says goodbye
We will meet you
As soon as you close your eyes
We will see you at night
A horror story in poem form. Please read in order

This is my first time venturing into ‘’Horror Poetry’’. The story follows a nameless elderly man succumbing into evil forces.
He becomes a target of a satanic cult ******* him into their corrupted goal, reviving Lucifer into his body. The cult consists of 6 men who have lent their bodies to 6 princes of hell, based on deadly sins individually. The seventh prince remains, Lucifer, the sin of pride
I've got my book and I've got my blade
a drop of blood until a pacts been made
in ten years time the price is paid
my soul in its hands
far far away.
Created by me on November 24th, 2019
I always get Supernatural vibes when reading this. it was never meant to be a reference to supernatural, but it's still good. I miss Ashe... definitely one of my favorite characters in the series, right next to Crowley and Rowena.
A RANDOM STORY WITH A GRAMMAR CHECK
By Darcy Prince

It’s a long leep between knowing wisdom & the wise life.

I look at the mirror. “I have emotional needs and wants. Though my soul collapses in the confrontation of feeling fear.” I breathe and sigh. Lighting a cigarette than wiping a smudge of the mirror. “Why can’t write this **** on paper.”

The bathroom door opens and the music from the house blasts into the bathroom. It distracts me than I snap out my gaze. A random guy I haven’t meet had seem to get luck with Annais. She giggles, crunching her body up. Giggling loudly as the guys smoochies her. Making their way into one of the toilets. I must admit, I do laugh, internally wished them luck and exited the bathroom.

The dance music is loud. As most of the party invites are standing off to the wall. Either alone or holding one on one conversation. I puffed and made my way past people dancing, on the floor passed out or just standing there.

Outside, where the sound of the music is slightly quieter. I put out my smoke and walked to the side, the part of the fence that seems to be less occupied by people. It's a shame that my flaws are embedded into my being. I looked at my phone, flicked over my messages, she’s online, not talking to me, my heart sunk and grew a little more anxious. I lit another smoke and do my best to forget her. But I did only come here on account of her.

“Howard.” A voice behind me spoke. Clearly grabbing my attention. ‘****, it’s Bill’. Walking towards me, with his stomach hanging over his belt buckle. His baseball cap covering his bald head at night, and a half drunk beer in his hand. “I want to know why you quit being a literary critic and be an actual writer.”

I laughed. “There’s less money in it.” I answered.

Bill chuckles. Placing his hand on my shoulder. “ I love your work. I tell everyone that I know you.” Giving me a play slap on my chest. ‘The ladies seem to love your work.”

I now want to leave the party completely. “I know. I get fan mail.”

Standing about a foot away from me. “Despite my endless amounts of questions and your personal philosophy. I want to know if you are willing to read some of my Satanic poetry.”

I took his beer out of his hand. Sipping it empty. “It’s payment.” I Finished my smoke. Flicked on the garden bed, “You’re a Satanist now?”

Bobbing his head up down. “Yep. I read the Satanic Bible and decided it so.”

I plant my open palm on his shoulder. “Good-luck.” I walked away. “Thanks for the beer Bill.”

I decide to leave at impulse. It’s freedom on drugs. Abundant with choice. Ability to create. Definite modern God. Who is the Muse to all philosophers?

Out on the road where all the cars are parked. I look around. Gave one look to the house and said **** it under my breathe. I walked home. I conjure up words that I’ve always to say to her. Knowing full well I should be writing them down for the next time I see her and that at one random moment I will forget. But to what Bill asked me. Alone I diver into self-publishing. Funny enough, I made some sort of success. Im free again. And my thoughts drifted into the strange thing of fame in contemporary art. Classical terms. Fame as a by-product of hardwork and talent. Like Clapton or Dante.

Glorious endeavour with high rewards. Movements of my will. A desire with a proper end. Languishing such things now. I am nothing without art. Surprise to see Bill turn to something as such of Satanism.

I got home and fell asleep.

I woke up. Had a morning coffee and cigarette.

I read the daily paper.

A few chapters of my current book that I’m reading.

Another smoke and coffee.

I begun to write with the radio playing in the background.

The street noises aren’t distraction. It is the capitols music. Just without harmony.

I write.

Stopping in the middle of the dat for lunch.

I watched ****.

I wanted to sleep. But one thing more important than the success of one's art. The effort the artists puts to create art. I forlorn my vice and continued to write, this is one model of freedom.

We’re at liberty when we can create who we are. A noble calling, shaping the clay of my existence. I choose the ideals to embrace.

At the end of my writing day. I decided to open my lounge room window. Hanging out on the window still, smoking and reading a book by Camus. A couple below caught my attention. I giggled. It’s her. With another man and I instantly lose faith in romance. Like Bill, I too have read the Satanic Bible. I took the ideals of her Muse and applied it to myself. I have no vendetta against God. Only humanity.

I flicked my smoke down to the street. Closed my window. And went to bed for the night.

In vain I always seem to rise to a higher self. Funny. I never give credit to the pain I feel. Serene. Untroubled by the undying yearnings to blast humanity of not of their sins. But only their ignorance.

I awoke. Like most of my mornings. I start the day with smoking too much and spending a couple of hours of reading. Seemingly dull and mundane, but it does wonders for my eternal being. I am a sinful prince.

I finished my novel and decided to place it on the pile of planned unpublished manuscripts for life after my death. Like many Satanic based writers before me. I decided to write on similar themes. Late modern society is principally concerned with purchasing things, in ever greater abundance and variety, and so has to strive to fabricate an ever greater number of desires to gratify, and to abolish as many limits and prohibitions upon desire as it can. Such a society is already implicitly atheist and so must slowly but relentlessly apply itself to the dissolution of transcendent values. It cannot allow ultimate goods to distract us from proximate goods. Our sacred writ is advertising, our piety is shopping, our highest devotion is private choice. God and the soul too often hinder the purely acquisitive longings upon which the market depends, and confront us with values that stand in stark rivalry to the only truly substantial value at the center of the social universe: the price tag.
Wisdom is the recovery of innocence at the far end of experience.

I had forgotten about her. At random she never did find the guy she ever wanted and I ended up being namecheck in her suicide note. Stating I was the only true, complex, beautiful soul that could match hers and how the regretted turning me away. Bill did the same. But only because I ignored him that one time at the party. In the publication of my Satanic novel, the Pope condemned to Hell. I sent him a letter that I wanted to do a confession with him. I have not yet heard of a reply. Catholics still protest.
A Simillacrum Nov 2018
With this torch, I thee smoke, with my third eye, I thee worship, and with ease, I set my earthly goods ablaze: In the name of the Flower, and of the Bud, and of the Evil Goat. Tim's Chips.
Matthew Sep 2018
They chose me
I don't know why
Maybe the ****** Mary
Hanging from my neck was enough
To raise their ire
And surely in a ****** it did

I've taken hallucinagins in my life
Good ones
Bad ones
Beautiful magic mushrooms or
Lsd laced with stric 9 leaving your
Best friends siezing, begging god with
That very same emblem, "bring him back" and with a gasp and some *****
He was back

I've also had a history of  depression, anxiety, and the abuse of substances to self medicate. I'd say I've been close to being in a psychosis but never lost touch.

No, that's not what happened in that
Small town southern jail cell
Someone opened the gates of hell
bonvkiller Sep 2018
ethereal utopia burned to hell,perhaps the carnage of death made them scream their scriptures at the sinners.
Lucifer clutching the hearts of the vertigo minded devotion to a blank faced god,showing no mercy to the imperfect yet claiming righteous love.  
The blind will never see and the sinners will always seek some relief from pain,or perhaps their counterparts seek to relieve the duty of the never ending pretentious love for a celestial being they know nothing of.
just something i wrote as a submission
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