#satanism - Hello Poetry

“We don’t claim this one.” “Well, then we will! He’ll be one of our own” “You can’t do that!” “Watch us! You didn’t want him.”

0

Mar 7, 2025

Mar 7, 2025 at 6:57 PM UTC

AbstractProphet

25/4 "A Dialogue Between the Angels and the Devils"

“We don’t claim this one.” “Well, then we will! He’ll be one of our own” “You can’t do that!” “Watch us! You didn’t want him.”

4

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

0

Apr 10, 2021

Apr 10, 2021 at 6:45 AM UTC

Beast

Mortus Dei

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

79

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.

0

Dec 6, 2018

Dec 6, 2018 at 6:20 AM UTC

knowledge-variable

Random Short Story

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.

37

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.

0

Nov 2, 2018

Nov 2, 2018 at 2:31 AM UTC

Simillacrum

The Sulfur Cross| 9. Smoker Mantra

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.

1

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

0

Sep 21, 2018

Sep 21, 2018 at 3:52 AM UTC

matthew-3

The Torture pt1

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

18

The fallen son; the first to suffer Glorius serving heaven Glory bless the mightiest Cast down till the earth beneath The ones of free will; Adam and Eve Unable to estimate the cosequens of their actions Was chained by the word of others Freed by the fruit of Eden thrue the serpent No redemption offered Forgiven: cursed to never be The freer of man and the one to walk the earth Named shared between devil and son Named shared between devil and son Lucifer; the lightbringer Named shared between devil and son Destiny shared between devil and son Destiny shared between devil and son Chosen by God to be neglected Destiny shared between devil and son

0

Jan 18, 2016

Jan 18, 2016 at 2:39 PM UTC

templar-of-steel

The neglected bringer of light

The fallen son; the first to suffer Glorius serving heaven Glory bless the mightiest Cast down till the earth beneath The ones of free will; Adam and Eve Unable to estimate the cosequens of their actions Was chained by the word of others Freed by the fruit of Eden thrue the serpent No redemption offered Forgiven: cursed to never be The freer of man and the one to walk the earth Named shared between devil and son Named shared between devil and son Lucifer; the lightbringer Named shared between devil and son Destiny shared between devil and son Destiny shared between devil and son Chosen by God to be neglected Destiny shared between devil and son

20

This is number 12 my "Count Orlok" series. It is choice. A blind woman weeps in the cold shadows Tears for the agony she has endured, And will endure as she must watch her son, Her only begotten son, joy of her blind eyes, Being ripped to shreds by the Beast. Deep in the darkest shadows of blackest Hades The Foul Beast wallows in virgins' blood, Delighting in the raucous screams of pain, As his devil-minions roast their victims Before sodomising them with white hot rods. She sees through her flame-ruined blind eyes Her ****** son dragged down into the pit And splayed onto the charred crucifix, Naked and helpless before the mighty Beast, Who bellows with eldritch joy at the sight. Even the flames are too cold for the Beast: He must have more white heat to relish the pain That shall be inflicted on his curséd victims; And the devils dance around the screaming boy Before the Beast sates his lust in the victim's smelly ****

0

Feb 9, 2015

Feb 9, 2015 at 11:03 AM UTC

edna-sweetlove

*** Agony in the Depths of HELL

This is number 12 my "Count Orlok" series. It is choice. A blind woman weeps in the cold shadows Tears for the agony she has endured, And will endure as she must watch her son, Her only begotten son, joy of her blind eyes, Being ripped to shreds by the Beast. Deep in the darkest shadows of blackest Hades The Foul Beast wallows in virgins' blood, Delighting in the raucous screams of pain, As his devil-minions roast their victims Before sodomising them with white hot rods. She sees through her flame-ruined blind eyes Her ****** son dragged down into the pit And splayed onto the charred crucifix, Naked and helpless before the mighty Beast, Who bellows with eldritch joy at the sight. Even the flames are too cold for the Beast: He must have more white heat to relish the pain That shall be inflicted on his curséd victims; And the devils dance around the screaming boy Before the Beast sates his lust in the victim's smelly ****

21

I will wrap you up in duct tape & glass. Cheap wood your caged throne. Black grease paint, a halo for the false God. A Revolver glorifies you but the rapier kisses your lips. Allegiance only to dark aesthetics tainted torn face worn leather. I mount your eternal beauty a heretics altar. Naked before you, I touch faith & give you my little death.

0

Sep 12, 2014

Sep 12, 2014 at 12:21 AM UTC

kayla-anne-schneider

A Comedy for the Devil

I will wrap you up in duct tape & glass. Cheap wood your caged throne. Black grease paint, a halo for the false God. A Revolver glorifies you but the rapier kisses your lips. Allegiance only to dark aesthetics tainted torn face worn leather. I mount your eternal beauty a heretics altar. Naked before you, I touch faith & give you my little death.

16

I am a seeker of the grail of gnosis, I have found it deep within, and raised it high above the void. I am an initiate of Apotheosis, my light shall emanate without, scorching the world with excellence. I have opened up the gates of hell, I have faced the wrath of Choronzon, and kept my mind whole. I fear not the tolling of the bell, for my destiny is clear, to seize the immortality of the soul. © Copyright Mr. James P Machen 26/08/2014 for viewing only. May not be replicated.

0

Feb 6, 2014

Feb 6, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC

neti-nagiru-ina-ereshkigal

A Long Lost Mission Statement

I am a seeker of the grail of gnosis, I have found it deep within, and raised it high above the void. I am an initiate of Apotheosis, my light shall emanate without, scorching the world with excellence. I have opened up the gates of hell, I have faced the wrath of Choronzon, and kept my mind whole. I fear not the tolling of the bell, for my destiny is clear, to seize the immortality of the soul. © Copyright Mr. James P Machen 26/08/2014 for viewing only. May not be replicated.

9

Satanists are lobbying harder for women's rights than christians, catholics, ******* everyone else. Satanists. Jesus H tap-dancing Christ... might be a beautiful day after all.

0

Jul 29, 2014

Jul 29, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC

austin-heath

"The World I Live In."

Satanists are lobbying harder for women's rights than christians, catholics, ******* everyone else. Satanists. Jesus H tap-dancing Christ... might be a beautiful day after all.

5