"ashtoreth" poems
How exotic is this curvaceous dance within our brazen synaptic hemispheres?
The scholastic wisdom of the ages boldly pronounces licentiousness when Ashtoreth makes herself readily available to ravenous self-projections of post-modernity.
As we saunter around the parameters of entitlement, the monster will reveal itself with narcissistic glory whilst cotton candy is purchased by naïve populations of bewitched obedience.
Scan the desolate horizon where economical lap dances are nothing more than a mere mirage of repressed Oedipus conflicts.
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 10:26 PM UTC
Can you feel the caress of the Northern wind, as it screeches across the baron plateau of the anthropological crack and strokes the contours of your oily façade?
The slippery blackness of this gale interferes with the propagation of ambivalent feminine intertwines.
Herbal remedies have cast their fragrance into the arms of Ashtoreth.
Therefore, you must now investigate the callous and empathic chords of my legitimacy, and I promise to blend my classical resonance with your deplorable soul.
If this is a public inquiry, then I must set sail from the dock and traverse unchartered horizons, with my tank filled with the required fuel.
Let us placate the earth, together as we unleash extravagant ceremonies of ****** ferocity.
We have swam across the laughter of the Sea of Clouds in this lunar expression of divorce.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 11:54 PM UTC
There is fulfilment within the emptiness of a generational façade, where flat keys depict a winter scene, upon which sleep is characterised by haunting screams of enragement.
Stringed instruments have the power to convey a deep sense of loss, and I have not yet gone anywhere.
Forgive me for asking: Are you a victim of secrecy, where illicit fornications abound beyond the parameters of Ashtoreth?
I accept the resolution of this enigma, whilst standing on the inside of the circle.
It truly is an artistic prowess of elegant hatred.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 11:16 PM UTC
Oh, to be cradled in the arms of a stringed quartet, where ancient phantoms tickle forbidden structures and intertwine with my wandering spirit across baron regions of the netherworld.
As the fallacy of alleged progress warms the darkest graves with ambivalent laughter, I now ask for your permission to caress your slippery soul as it seeks to slide into cosmological inertia.
Articulation of the Algerian torso punctuates the pervasive sanctuary where seduction of the King resonates with my Arabic woodwind instruments.
Therefore, let us embrace under the canopy of Ashtoreth, as her velvet hours are forever shortening like the contemporary expressions of a wanton Eve.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 1:26 AM UTC
Ashtoreth preys
On unwary beings
Using her sly wit
And beguiling smile
She twists and dances around
Burning her figure
Into the soul's retina
She's all thoughts
And hallucinations
That they all think were meant to be
They'll fall in love with lust
Then despair
When they find themselves seduced
And forgotten
Amongst the ochre smoke
Embedded and immobilized
In Hell they are in
They fail to find
Dante's secret door
Deeper they wander
Not quite dead
Nor blessed with living
Ashtoreth has given
The sweet ambrosial water
From the gods
And there in Hell they'll stay
Immortal
Surviving by serving
Sin's brother
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 11:07 PM UTC
The purpose of my poetry, is to condemn the world to Hell
Compassion I have not, for the worshipers of Bel
-
If it's Baal you prefer, to me it matters not
You'll go to Hell and burn, forever there you'll rot
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Religion! What Farce! Like Christianity
Pagan saints and Pagan gods, worship them on bended knee
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Then there's Ashtoreth, Queen of Heaven so divine
aka Diana, in Emphasis did shine
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They're both alive and well, Their High Priest lives in Rome
Go and pray their beads, beneath his Golden Dome
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 4:48 AM UTC