"seth" poems
Asmodeus is left to breathe nothing but sand
Belial is trickery and is partial to Man
Charon is only influenced by what is paid
Dagon will bake whatever can be made
Erebus guards his own darkness under his own tree
Furfur his army is more legendary as a legion to see
Geryon his sentry at the gates ensures leaving is not right
Hetu-Ahin even whole at Dawn you are not safe at Twilight
Itzcoliuhqui is the ******* of all that is cold
Jezebeth is articulated as all falsehoods that are told
Kasdeya wallowing 5th in line to never be king
Lilith who Adam thought would make him sing
Mephistopheles not the true leader just a fawning servant
Nyx Incestuously in love with her brother Erebus
Orthon can take on any or other form
Philotanus will assist when the fortress is to be stormed
Qanel is alone in a canal of strife
Raum his command means Furfur is under the knife
Seth Rules the Egyptian underworld with an iron fist
Tando Ashanti Takes seven on seven and will never miss
Uphir will ensure that all Demons stay well
Vetis will make sure all that Holy comes to Hell
Wele Gumali is as black as the darkest sin
Xaphan makes sure that all are comfy and warm within
Yama has dogs to take care of all the junk
Zagam is just a drunk
Jul 19, 2012
Jul 19, 2012 at 5:48 AM UTC
Hair as black as nightshade’s bloom
Eyes cold sapphires set in a face of stone
Skin, milky pale, cheeks diamond white,
Heart as dark as darkest night
Words of honey laced with hemlock
Venom so sweet but alas so deadly
Beautiful rose, poisonous thorns
The devil with hidden horns
Bloodied hand, murdered dreams
She dares lay sleep to sleep
Slashed hearts, tattered souls
Broken is the most sacred of vows
Never to sleep, never to rest
Never to drift off in peace
For thou hast put to death
Thine sleep
Thou shalt not know oblivion’s deep
And if you sink beneath slumber’s waves
Then hell awaits there-in
To haunt and torture
To hack as you stray
Into that world each day
In sleep your dreams will haunt and chase
A-wandering you’ll try to run away
Demons of Hades devils of Seth
Haunt and torture Lady Macbeth
So arise ye furies avengers of blood
And hasten to punish this sin
For the ****** of sleep
The killing of a king
Hades fire upon their souls shall bring
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 11:52 PM UTC
Fallen One that fell from grace
Destiny engulfed you in flames
No other recourse but to change
You who tempted that Nazarene
The One some confuse with Seth or Baʿal
Venus is your place.
Your abode among the archangels
No one could take but Yahweh
The forbidden name
You loved Him more than your beautiful face
When ordered to love us feeble mortals more than the Lord of Hosts
Deign was not in your plate
Your phalangeal joints against the archangel Michael
General of the Heavenly Chariots
Lucifer, you of the Order of Music
The One they say buys souls
Michael took what was rightfully yours
On the Earthly plains your fallen angels
Only thought of empires to make.
Purson you probably do not know
Of the Order of Honor and Virtue once upon a time
Sunday stories that are told
God got old
Rest easy Prince don't sweat Judgement Day
Most of us are bound to Hades anyway.
Apr 22, 2019
Apr 22, 2019 at 7:20 PM UTC
As fishes wriggling
The entirety of their slippery bodies
In vast oceans, lost in the glory of waters
Instincts meander
Their way through to the mind
In a pool of imagined
Sensuality with wanton desires
A longing for the temporal
Poignantly stands *****
In the throne-room of man's emotions
Motioning with a seemingly motionless demeanor
Unfulfilled cravings
Cradles persistence
In his goal oriented pursuits
Thoughts are repressed
Mental imageries suppressed
To pave way for **********
Of pleasantly positive feelings
Yet the uncouth lingers
Occasionally engages the enthroned
In scrimmages in their bid to dethrone them
Man holds the prerogative
To serve either of them willingly
Equally, man possess all it takes to be
Heinously hedonistic
And heartily attractive in personality
To please society
None can reach complete perfection
At both extremities
© Seth Boss Kay @ 19/10/2013
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 2:10 AM UTC
The Reaper's true name
is the name of Death.
A forbidden word,
an unspoken truth,
the name of Seth.
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 3:11 AM UTC
seth's best mix was a bottle
of boodles
and tonic
the rest of the night persisted
with wine and perspiration.
when we die will it be like this?
a vision when sleeping
or a wish when weeping.
the rest of our lives are drowned
in caps and empties.
fog covers the mountaintops
through the hole in the wall
as we escape from under
gin-scented drapes. i pour
maple syrup on your waffles.
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 6:48 PM UTC
Light keeps the darkness at bay
Darkness keeps the atoms in sway
Memories faked as much as faith
Raw neurons on a birthday cake
Wet leaves stuck to white car hoods
Look just like bullet-holes would
Sketch me, photos make broken shelves
Till leaping lamb of hope kills itself
Come together and taste some death
You'll be like Seth or burn like ****
Googly-eyed with brains all fried
Notes the secret satellite
Reality shifts under your feet
As your door breaks down, here comes the heat
Pink fish visions and scaly birds
Robots prophesize unsaid words
Indians paid with camera lenses
While the moon loses all her ******
Americans watching cartoon life
As their hands turn clay and rust is rife
Yeah, we all got our own dead twin
Tastes like cinnamon vitamins
You ******* dumb deadly lifeless fools
Reject anything until it's cool
Light keeps the atoms in sway
Darkness keeps the shadows at bay
Nov 19, 2011
Nov 19, 2011 at 8:43 PM UTC
Naw motha fkka I
Ain't hot ****
Ain't pompous
Knock nitty gritty
With ****** up kids
I got uh
E mergency
Kit put together
With pipe and tape
From the basement
You need gum
Paperclips
Got a leak
Motha fkkn leaking
Unstable, collect
N assemble new
You wit half ya
Bodyweight in staples
BMI justified
With baggage n
Fix its
It's only a problem
When ya round
Motha fkka I
Ain't hot ****
But I'm one
Of the most torn
Up turned up
******* in the pound
Bombastic sensations
Comin from all sides
A ******
No hater
Trouble you
Trouble me
What's it gonna be?
Depends on your visage
**** I could turn it off
N I do do on occasion
If ya kickin without
The free body vibes
I visit, permission
Can't be a thing
I do wut I want when
I do cause I trust me
You r basic n
Chastened n rope
N chains to the brain
Stuck on level
Seth ***** said
In time you lay stone
Work hurt sometimes
You must crumble
Breakin down
The mortar with
Nightshade in
Spray as pesticide
For the vines tangling
Strangling your
Home, it's unknown
If I gonna grow in
The right way but
I trust me so if
I'm so grown I outgrow
Then I gotta go
No hate
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 11:39 PM UTC
We spend it close in spirit,
but our bodies never touch.
I know little of your Inner Thoughts,
but your Eyes are like those of Horus,
gazing over me always,
your Heart nurturing like Hathor's
caring for me eternally,
but at a safe distance, from above.
You showed me my Identity;
You chastise me for my wrongdoings.
Like Osiris making my last judgement,
you sit, enthroned, with your tall white hat, flanked by vultures,
and deliver your verdict:
Love.
Love despite my failings, despite my faults,
for which you give me disappointed
looks that smash my heart to pieces,
like Seth did to your own body, you god of the Dead.
And now she, my Isis, gathers them for me.
But she forgets one vital part:
My ability to distinguish good from evil,
and now my heart is not light like the vulture's feather.
It is heavy as a river-stone and will be eaten by jackal-headed beasts.
But still, my time with you is a time of love:
enigmatic, painful love.
Sep 29, 2010
Sep 29, 2010 at 12:13 PM UTC
I fished a box from the bottom of my closet
The box I have used and reused
(For quite some time)
(For the same enough reasons)
For I have nothing more left
I placed three of your shirts
(Same scent since you last wore it)
(Same scent since I last used it)
Two of which I have altered for my figure
One which reminds me of your sweat, your body, your fervor
As much as it pains me,
I need to give up the ones that lingered the most too.
A book for every special occasion
A novel for every month, for every day
I wanted to keep the memories (but not you)
I stacked Percy Jackson, Amy and Roger.
I piled Riggs, Clare and Seth Baumgartner.
I sealed the words that once got me through
(The days without you)
I’m giving them all back, so you’d know how it feels too.
I peeled our smiles, the kisses and hugs, the happy days
(Which we used to have)
I removed our photos from my collage
I deleted you from my camera
And I’m returning (our love) the products of your films to you.
I kept one. One photograph to remind me
Of how much I have loved and lost.
I kept one. To forever have this memory
Of how much love we had.
I kept one. (To remind me never to come back)
I untangled the bracelet, the necklace and the ring.
I have spent my minutes treasuring them.
But my time spent is enough.
Now, this will be yours to have.
To remind you (too) to never come back.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 12:55 AM UTC
I drew pants out of my backpack
like a well bucket brimming pennies.
Legs upon legs tied together
in a campfire circle and sitting
on moss'd rocks, listening to rock
music, drinking Rolling Rock,
and nothing else. I pulled up
on inseams to a single black
pocket liner sixteen cents richer,
but the fire. Oh, that fire, flames whipping
weaker than slave drivers weaker
than the wind bailing low-lying
lake water to the faux Dover beach
mound of sand by the mud shore
like the crayfish were drowning.
The sand was like trampled
"welcome" mats worn-in by sidestepping
horseshoe players setting down
their tin cans by the mound.
A pitching machine on the pitcher's mound.
Machines have made the big leagues.
I quit baseball when Coach Seth castrated
my half-friends with a robot.
Some took red stitches to the face,
the lucky ones. But the fire—if you could consider
a Bunsen burner-esque flame a fire—turned
our burnt sienna bottles into burning-out beacons,
tiki torches between pine trees, street lamps
kicking off in four hours, a box of matches,
and a lightning bug's ***
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 12:32 PM UTC
You tied this noose around my neck
And don't you ever forget
As you never dripped a drop of sweat
Or showed any sign of regret
Acting as if you were never any threat
Whispering deathless words below your breathe
Constantly reminding me how great it was with Seth
Your trap was finally set
To have me more addictive to you than ****
Guess you are going to win your bet
No longer will you have to me address
Now that you have me begging for sudden death
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 7:17 AM UTC
.............
she was always in tears
lived a life surrounded by fear
Her name is Cynthia..I guess my close friends will understand
You see this monster whose voice was like a thunder
He would hold her breast and **** it as if he was a baby
I Could see the indescribable terror in Cynthia's face
As she tied her shoe laces
tears mingled.
I could feel her ordeal
She saw him....the images were more vivid at night
Though I didn't want to cause a fight
I have tried to say but he said they is no place to run
We must have fun..
As he switched off the lights and opened my thighs...A MOMENT OF SILENCE....
She took her shirt off. Her chest was covered with cigarette burns
That ****** coward used her as an ashtray.
She lived in a persistent poverty..
He lured him with his car...and his luxurious goods
HE WOULD SAY.."GO talanyana ko gabone..
I'm sorry for calling him a coward.
My only weapon of seeking justice is to write about abuse...Abuse must fall..
I HAVE said it all.
My tears are worth the pain...I SHALL NOT FORGET THE STORY OF CYNTHIA SETH..lets protect the girl child.
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 9:13 AM UTC
TS Eliot said, “Paris is a strong stimulant.”
It is - but it has nothing on Manhattan.
If Paris is a Café Crème espresso at a café-en-terrasse under the stars.
Manhattan is a ‘Black Tie Bawls’ cocktail at The Crown bar (the skyline!).
We were going to relax - in Manhattan,
instead, keep those seat belts fastened.
Lisa said, one night, “Want to go out for a bit?”
Since then, I’ll admit, our nights have been lit.
We have ten days, and we’ve decided to try every Michelin-starred restaurant we can (there are 68 in NYC). So far, we’ve been to Eleven Madison Park, Le Bernardin and Per Se. This was Lisa’s idea.
The food is delicious - if you like a corn-flake with something on it or a steak the size of a bouillon cube ($250 per person with cocktails and dessert). As we left ‘Per Se’ I asked, “Can we get something to eat now? I’m starved.” I was only ½ kidding.
It’s MY idea to visit every beautix rooftop bar in Manhattan (there are exactly10). So far, we’ve been to, ‘The Peninsula,’ ‘230-Fith’’ and ‘NoMad’ - we’ve only been at these tasks for three nights.
We’re doing other things too. We’re going to Broadway shows (& Juliet, the Great Gatsby, Oh Mary!, Wicked) and to see Idina Menzel (Wicked, Frozen) in concert and a John Oliver and Seth Meyers comedy show next Monday. We do these, as in - Dinner, show, rooftop bar.
OH, and we’re dancin’ like we’re sentient - no cap.
Our sordid troup, is Lisa and Dave (her boo), Charles & Ms Charles, Lisa’s folks (Karen and Michael) and Lisa’s little sister Leeza and Meeeee. Luckily, we have one of my Grandmère’s conglomerate, executive secretarial minions (François) booking reservations for us. He’s got ‘contacts.’
Yeah, we’re drivin’ full speed towards summer’s end - “fo-shizzle” (to quote Snoop Dogg). We figure we can rest, a few days, in New Haven.
Wasn’t Snoop fire at the Olympics?
.
.
dance club songs, for this one:
One Kiss by Calvin Harris & Dua Lipa
Lipstick by Kungs
Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter [E]
Levitating by Dua Lipa
.
.
slang…
café-en-terrasse = terrace cafe
Black Tie Bawls = (cocktail) Blavod black ***** lemon, and Bawls energy drink.
beautix = top drawer, rizz
No cap = no lie
fo-shizzle = for sure
fire = great, a standout
[E] = explicit
Aug 13, 2024
Aug 13, 2024 at 4:57 PM UTC
I saw a fallen Apple fruit
Beneath the shadow of the tree
It was all red and cool and fresh
And worms have yet to partake its flesh
Round the fruit's awaited grave
Nothing lies but cool earth; Save
The footprints that lead to and from
This Apple tree that stood alone
This vast expanse of fielded loam
Straightaway I knew the answer to this enigma
Adam rose from the dead and found that he was hungry
He saw the Apple tree, rattled the branches so the fruit would fall
And seeing the prints where the snake did crawl
Decided that he was not going to eat at all
He left; walked around in search of Eve
And his son Seth so that they can run around naked and not toil till sundown
and relieve themselves from the burden
Of being first and last in Eden
Nov 25, 2020
Nov 25, 2020 at 10:46 PM UTC
1. **** Seth
2. "dead leaves"
3. "Robert Plant"
4. Stop
5.
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 11:02 AM UTC
In the beginning when Adam met Eve beneath the canopy of paradise
they agreed on most things.
They basked in the perfection of all that surround, laughing at each other's jokes.
One day Adam carved a gift for Eve.
Tirelessly wildling the branch of an oak tree.
"Tools", he boosted as she stroked the small utensils.
"I'll call them forks," said Eve happily setting the table.
What came next sparked an age old debate, as Eve grasped her fork in the left hand, Adam in his right.
"What are you doing?" he vexed, scratching his head.
"That hand is incorrect!"
"Tis not my sweet, it is the hand I use to eat, I am in my right mind my dear, you are the uncultured one here!"
And so it began, as they reproduced.
Cain was right handed as was Seth, but poor Able was born with his mother's fondness for left.
Jun 22, 2019
Jun 22, 2019 at 2:34 PM UTC
smooth son/sun, you're a holy roller
no fighting hedonism with a cold shoulder
smolder, ignite into a ******
baptism of divine alarm
because fervor is louder than alms
so you could be a rolling ball of burning fingers
kissing and singeing sinners who hinder
what you want to tear asunder
so blunder, reckless in abandon
or you could be no man's son
and everyone's sun and the one's son
father, the world weighs a ton.
our forebears split him with dynamite
nile magic, scattered like stones, own the afterlife
and he's got a son, so bright, light
got a silver dollar and a star studded collar
and the ring of fire, burns more than the rest
stuff them all down inside a god's chest
now the son's got a cold dish
aching for one last wish, match, set, game
vengeance on chaos, and sand in his throat, in his father's name
**** some brother of cain and able
way back when, when seth was still an animal
obsessive compulsive, no demons in the cosmic sieve
demons are angels, in his last breath the son wants to live
but he's got to be some kind of doom
cosmic boom, keep people straight in a narrow room
pretty tunes, ancient runes, weave the world on an almighty loom
while the sun's high, and the son's high, and it's high noon.
May 12, 2011
May 12, 2011 at 8:53 PM UTC
When I was seven I summoned spirits with an Ouija board and shadow-souls
guided my hands towards the letter 'S' after I asked, in my defining romantic
fashion, "who is man I fall in love with?"
I made a list of Seth and Sam and Scott until I envisioned names in languages
that have never danced on my tongue and surnames that sound like writings
out of fairy tales.
I like to think that my musing and poems and all the fantasy-oriented writings
I've produced have all been about this ambiguous 'S'.
Though I'm in awe over how out of sync the hemispheres of my brain need to
be for the logical to collide with the fantasy. Because there are about 6,800 to
6,900 bodies of words and systems in today's modern civilization and most, if
not all, have to contain the letter 'S'.
The odds of me discovering the function of two sets of 206 bones laying perfectly
still on a spring mattress together with a boy called 'S' are probable and far from
my illusion.
All in all I've misconstrued my perception of infatuation and love based on what
I chose to believe that night I used a telephone of sorts to contact dead lovers,
who watch over the living to see the anatomical parts they don't have anymore
collide with each other.
I love the boy called "S".
My writing has and always will be about the boy called 'S'. And when I find the boy
called 'S', I won't mention any of this because I'm well aware of how daft this all sounds.
Of how I allowed ghosts to untangle the read thread tied to my left ring finger
and lead me to the other end of the string.
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 11:57 PM UTC
Tyler Clemente: age 18.
Billy Lucas: age 15.
Harrison Chase Brown: age 15.
Cody J. Parker: age 17.
Seth Walsh: age 13.
who gave you the right to judge these boys?
It's pretty ****** sad.
You think you're a clean-cut, all-American,
but you really ain't so clean.
Jul 26, 2011
Jul 26, 2011 at 8:46 PM UTC
I can almost feel his scruffy chin brushing against my neck
I can hear his smokey voice grazing my outer ear
I feel his stalwart arms around my ribs
Five years from now, he'll transition into who
He has always been on the inside
He always meets the mirrors in his dreams when he's awake
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
"Layna, this is Seth,"
Our father breathed into
My ear.
"I think you two should play together
For a while."
We were only children,
Toddling around
With wild fantasies.
I was bashful and shy,
But I always tried
To make you laugh.
And you always gave me
Reasons why you weren't a good
Playmate.
We played tag,
And the wind would carry
Your feet
And push my hair into my face,
I never liked this game.
You always got so far away.
I'd only catch you
When you were out of breath,
You'd stop short,
And I run into you
Hard.
"Father she pushed me!"
"I did NOT! He's lying!"
Our small high voices
Would rise up the chimney
Making imperfect
Melodies together,
And not hearing a thing
The other said,
Too caught up
In our own disassociative
Play land.
"Daddy he won't listen to me!
He ignores me!"
"Father I can't get her
To slow down and think!"
Our amusement
Of one another
Started getting rough,
You didn't like
How I'd started getting more
Boisterous,
And confident.
Unafraid to poke the bear with a stick,
And I loathed your timid
Out look on life.
"Father she scares me! She plays too rough!"
"Daddy he won't take chances! He's still so shy!"
But then there'd be a blissful
Moment
Of perfect harmony,
Under a canopy of tree branches
Woven together,
You'd dare to hold my hand,
And I'd slow down
And breathe it in.
"Daddy why can't he always be like this?"
"Father will she calm down
With age?"
"I love him daddy, he's good sometimes."
"I love her father, she's beautiful when she's gentle."
We built things together,
Crooked buildings out of
Sticks.
You found it funny when they fell through,
I saw it as a problem
To solve.
"Father she's too driven, and bossy. She wants everything just so."
"Daddy he doesn't care if it all falls apart."
We'd wrestle in the grass,
It started out just fun,
Then your pride was damaged,
And so was mine,
And I couldn't let you win.
"Father I don't know if I want to play anymore, she never lets anything go. She won't let me have my way."
"Daddy he thinks I have to be something else."
I would giggle at foolish things,
And sang silly songs,
And you watched me with slitted eyes, Unamused.
"Father she's overwhelming."
"Layna he isn't happy,"
Our father murmured softly.
"Well I'm not happy either!
So he can just leave me alone!"
"What? Why?"
"Because you don't like me anyways!"
"Fine!"
Our inner
Traumatized children, didn't play well together,
And they were determined
To come out
And have their say,
So when they couldn't get along,
I realized,
Neither could we.
Jun 9, 2017
Jun 9, 2017 at 4:07 PM UTC
I found it in the places
I was most afraid to look
.
I hold his name on my tongue;
The sweet taste of regret,
Of finally knowing the love I'd had
Aug 6, 2022
Aug 6, 2022 at 12:33 AM UTC
This ebony sky, is Nut so sad?
Angry at Ra perhaps.
Bidding him to Duat.
To suffer the whims of Apophis
What hymn soothes her.
Wherein she would bade him to return.
Tis it the song of the seas?
Shall we call upon the cerulean?
Hathor pays me no mind.
She suffers not my woes.
She is love made flesh.
Maybe I am lost to her.
Cursed this binding darkness.
Bast, what does your third eye see?
Is Duat so chaotic?
Your children long for Ras embrace.
Geb longs to awaken.
My cries go unanswered.
Save for Khonsu.
Who dances with Hapi upon the Nile.
I believe it is she.
Khonsu, are you not tired?
Do you not hear the songs of the cerulean?
Cease your daunting ways.
Rest now so that Ra may run his course.
Mafdet, God of justice!
Your scales lack balance!
Suffer Khonsu no more.
Set right this celestial nonsense.
Just as the cerulean began to grow hoarse. Just as the children of Bast were about to begin their exodus. And before Geb set to ease with frost his own labors. Apophis swung open the gates to heaven. Hapi, the God of the Nile lit up as gold to guide Ra out of Duat.
The earth warmed once again. Set ablaze with life unforgiving relishing it's mockery of Seth. Anubis, lowered his head and sat on the banks. Resolved to let Geb have this moment.
Hathor still ignores my plight. But at least now I can see her.
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 10:33 AM UTC