"tempter" poems
Darkness, it falls like a massive leaden shroud
Over this quiet valley as the dusk infects the sky
Pleasant faces fade into the shadows of the night
As the demons of the dead and dreaming come on out to play
Howling at the moon
Swarming through the streets
Lurking in the shadows
On this night of Halloween
Carve the faces, light the candles
Offerings must be made
In the cold October moonlight
To the Phantoms of Samhain
If you fail
If these ghouls are not appeased
You will be...
Taken
by the spirits of the dead!!!
The Tempter's Chosen
And kin to the Grim Reaper
Children of the Darkest Night
Steal mortal souls to feast on
Ghastly transformations
Amidst accursed corpses
We are possessed by the evil of tonight's demonic forces!
Carve the faces, light the candles
Offerings must be made
In the cold October moonlight
To the Phantoms of Samhain
If you fail
If these ghouls are not appeased
You will be...
Taken by the spirits of the dead!!!
By the light of the orange moon
In the dark of the purple night
We linger in these shadows
And wait there, until the time is right...
On this night of Halloween
We roam your city streets
And among the masks of plastic
We can finally be free
So carve those faces, light your candles
Offerings still must be made
In the cold October moonlight
To us Phantoms of Samhain
And if you do not heed these words
And refuse these simple deeds
Well then, my friend
You will be,
Taken by the spirits of the dead!
And if you do not heed these words
And refuse these simple deeds
Well then,
My friend,
you will be
Taken ...
Taken to the grave!
Taken...
Taken far away!
Taken...
Taken by we, the Phantoms of Samhain!!!
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 1:33 PM UTC
So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn
Which once he wore!
The glory from his gray hairs gone
Forevermore!
Revile him not, the Tempter hath
A snare for all;
And pitying tears, not scorn and wrath,
Befit his fall!
Oh, dumb be passion's stormy rage,
When he who might
Have lighted up and led his age,
Falls back in night.
Scorn! would the angels laugh, to mark
A bright soul driven,
Fiend-goaded, down the endless dark,
From hope and heaven!
Let not the land once proud of him
Insult him now,
Nor brand with deeper shame his dim,
Dishonored brow.
But let its humbled sons, instead,
From sea to lake,
A long lament, as for the dead,
In sadness make.
Of all we loved and honored, naught
Save power remains;
A fallen angel's pride of thought,
Still strong in chains.
All else is gone; from those great eyes
The soul has fled:
When faith is lost, when honor dies,
The man is dead!
Then, pay the reverence of old days
To his dead fame;
Walk backward, with averted gaze,
And hide the shame!
5.4k
In the hour of my distress,
When temptations me oppress,
And when I my sins confess,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When I lie within my bed,
Sick in heart and sick in head,
And with doubts discomforted,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the house doth sigh and weep,
And the world is drown’d in sleep,
Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the passing bell doth toll,
And the Furies in a shoal
Come to fright a parting soul,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the tapers now burn blue,
And the comforters are few,
And that number more than true,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the priest his last hath pray’d,
And I nod to what is said,
‘Cause my speech is now decay’d,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When, God knows, I’m toss’d about
Either with despair or doubt;
Yet before the glass be out,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the tempter me pursu’th
With the sins of all my youth,
And half damns me with untruth,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the flames and hellish cries
Fright mine ears and fright mine eyes,
And all terrors me surprise,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
When the Judgment is reveal’d,
And that open’d which was seal’d,
When to Thee I have appeal’d,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
3.1k
in a land where four languages are official
a church was named only in three; for the fourth
is the language of a weak and fragile faith
whose edicts are above the law of the land,
and whereof knowing a church's name is temptation
and the tempter the sinner and the tempted sinless;
a rock is evil for stumbling the weak,
and if truth offends the truthsayer dies,
and the thief blameless for the rich flaunts his gold;
thus protected by an unsheathed ****** sword
a faith strengthened with every tempter's death
Mar 28, 2022
Mar 28, 2022 at 11:17 PM UTC
The tempt, sing to bring my vanity.
The temptation, to travel to unravel my sanity.
The tempted, rather than gather my trust.
The tempter, would not neglect to inject me with lust.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 2:08 PM UTC
Through airy roads he wings his instant flight
To purer regions of celestial light;
Enlarg’d he sees unnumber’d systems roll,
Beneath him sees the universal whole,
Planets on planets run their destin’d round,
And circling wonders fill the vast profound.
Th’ ethereal now, and now th’ empyreal skies
With growing splendors strike his wond’ring eyes:
The angels view him with delight unknown,
Press his soft hand, and seat him on his throne;
Then smilling thus: “To this divine abode,
“The seat of saints, of seraphs, and of God,
“Thrice welcome thou.” The raptur’d babe replies,
“Thanks to my God, who snatch’d me to the skies,
“E’er vice triumphant had possess’d my heart,
“E’er yet the tempter had beguil d my heart,
“E’er yet on sin’s base actions I was bent,
“E’er yet I knew temptation’s dire intent;
“E’er yet the lash for horrid crimes I felt,
“E’er vanity had led my way to guilt,
“But, soon arriv’d at my celestial goal,
“Full glories rush on my expanding soul.”
Joyful he spoke: exulting cherubs round
Clapt their glad wings, the heav’nly vaults resound.
Say, parents, why this unavailing moan?
Why heave your pensive bosoms with the groan?
To Charles, the happy subject of my song,
A brighter world, and nobler strains belong.
Say would you tear him from the realms above
By thoughtless wishes, and prepost’rous love?
Doth his felicity increase your pain?
Or could you welcome to this world again
The heir of bliss? with a superior air
Methinks he answers with a smile severe,
“Thrones and dominions cannot tempt me there.”
But still you cry, “Can we the sigh borbear,
“And still and still must we not pour the tear?
“Our only hope, more dear than vital breath,
“Twelve moons revolv’d, becomes the prey of death;
“Delightful infant, nightly visions give
“Thee to our arms, and we with joy receive,
“We fain would clasp the Phantom to our breast,
“The Phantom flies, and leaves the soul unblest.”
To yon bright regions let your faith ascend,
Prepare to join your dearest infant friend
In pleasures without measure, without end.
2.5k
Dear Lord! accept a sinful heart,
Which of itself complains,
And mourns, with much and frequent smart,
The evil it contains.
There fiery seeds of anger lurk,
Which often hurt my frame;
And wait but for the tempter's work,
To fan them to a flame.
Legality holds out a bribe
To purchase life from Thee;
And Discontent would fain prescribe
How Thou shalt deal with me.
While Unbelief withstands Thy grace,
And puts the mercy by,
Presumption, with a brow of brass,
Says, "Give me, or I die!"
How eager are my thoughts to roam,
In quest of what they love!
But ah! when duty calls them home,
How heavily they move!
Oh, cleanse me in a Saviour's blood,
Transform me by Thy power,
And make me Thy beloved abode,
And let me roam no more.
2.4k
Temptation shies
From revealing sun,
Its subtleties
Shine on everyone.
Don't look for horns,
Fork and tail;
Its method ensnares
The unsuspecting,
Should they dare
Challenge to outwit.
We'll trade our souls,
For a sack;
Barter what we dearly hold;
Trade it in
For selfish goals.
Some advertise
A soul for sale
By self-service.
That ultimately fails.
Cuckold a friend,
Cheat at the end;
The tempter likes it
When we're lost
In the simplicity
Of detail.
So sly
We think
We lose our souls.
Terrified by
Eternal flames
That burn without
Consuming skin.
We don't
Lose that,
We wallow
In our sins.
This temptation needs
To stick us
In the end.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 8:47 AM UTC
Greed, gluttony, indulgence, selfishness.
These are all characteristics I've viewed
From a man who chose such a proclaimed selfless profession.
Amusing how the less fortunate prey on the wallets thicker than theirs.
There is a significant difference between intentional wronging
And misguided, assumptions that only souls that are led astray make
The purpose of this text is a public service announcement,
some may call it art; only the creator truly knows it's meaning.
Mom's in the wild will protect their progeny to the death, I'll leave it at that.
It began in spoken word. Your fear carried on to strings of letters that could only flow through a brain sunken in liquid toxicity.
Don't believe everything you hear, don't dismiss it either.
Play your pawn carefully sir, as your next movement
Very well could be checkmate.
I care about society until someone I know crosses me,
I have honored you by not interrupting your rendezvous. Taking advantage of people is your game.
You prey on those who are too naive to type six letters following a name into a search box.
Fortunately, your cadaverous will forever rot.
While the tempter, sits in delight holding onto a smile so menacing. You have only seen it portrayed by Mr. Nicholsan.
Regard of the Crest of the house would have prevented your sad demise.
As there are no do-overs when you work with Satan, at least you fell for his entrapment, and no one will be wounded by your passive lies again.
we wish you eternal damnation,
the m.H.d.
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 2:09 AM UTC
Inhale
Inhale
Inhale
I can’t breathe right anymore,
Ever since I've found myself
Beating down the Devils door.
“Beelzebub, Satan!
Let me in
I can’t keep running,
Father of Sin”
Trip
Trip
Trip
I can’t feel my feet touch the ground,
I’m only aware
Of this insane
ripping sound.
Barren
Barren
Barren
Looking up to the sky
I can’t help but cry,
“Lucifer what have you done
It seems heaven’s run dry!”
Empty
Empty
Empty
“Oh no, you Old Serpent!
I’m afraid my insides are out,
How can I proceed
With my intestines strewn about?”
Slip
Slip
Slip
I can not take this,
My head is pounding,
Every sound resounding,
This head ache is a killer.
I only complain
About this tension in my brain,
Since for organs
I've already found a Filler.
As the ground cackles open,
(“Look who finally answered the door!
Antichrist, you Tempter, did you not hear me knocking before?”)
I see one small problem,
A phantom tickle, a teasing *****
For in all of my life
I've never been this famished, that I can assure!
Inhale
Inhale
Inhale
The world into my now vacuous
Gaping hole of a stomach,
A true bottomless pit.
For I will not leave this life
With nothing to show for it!
No more stars, I will keep them for myself,
let the moon shine it's dull light
in the spotlight,
with no one to share it's empty stage.
And maybe now,
Converter of Angels,
With the universe stored safely
Within the wormhole in my body,
My gaping wound,
Personification of ******
Maybe now,
With Star-Filled-Guts
I will shine again.
The fiery sparks of hell
Will be no match for the likes of me,
For all who dare look
Will be blinded instantly.
I’ll be so incandescent
You’ll see me from afar
For haven’t you heard, Fallen Angel?
I’m Hell’s North Star.
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 4:37 AM UTC
The Holy Spirit took Him to the wind and sand,
Left Him alone in dry air
To meet the Devil.
Forty days He fasted,
Must have prayed,
Alone.
The Devil knew just where to find Him,
Rolled up in a whirlwind,
Did he?
Or slithered he up,
Wind in his face,
The Serpent, from behind?
The conversation followed,
Enough to raise my hair,
"I've been given total dominion
Of earth and sky down here.
The glory is all mine."
"Unlimited my power
Within the earthly plane,
And all of it you'll have,
If you but praise my name."
The Devil said his piece,
Then waited,
Plotting Jesus' pain
For invading his dominion
For bringing Glory down.
He proffered ease of life
And Earth's opinion,
The greatest things he owned
To tempt the Chosen One:
A monstrous devil's game...
Risk every earthly thing
For the Knee of the Almighty.
Jesus spoke:
"Satan, get behind.
Worship only God, your Lord,
Serve no one but Him."
So Satan took the two of them
To the top of the temple spire,
"Fall free from here,
Let angels catch;
Subsume human desire!"
Jesus answered quickly,
"You shall not tempt your Lord."
And so the Devil left Him,
The Tempter's power, blown.
And so began
The Savior's journey
Toward a humble Cross,
The Gate Post to our Home.
Aug 25, 2019
Aug 25, 2019 at 10:51 PM UTC
The non-overlapping magisterium,
a law stating that science and religion cannot intermix,
separate chords strung from the same cloth,
vines splitting at the intersection of faith and reason,
barbs flush against the skin of the common,
man thinks he learned,
but is far from wise.
To narrow your mind so steeply,
is to hold back all that you are,
to be cut off at the knee,
giving into a disposition for failure,
for often has both religion and science failed,
wars fought in the name of God and race,
non-existent color lines we paint on the inside of our sleeves.
Science does not represent evil,
and religion does not represent good,
they merely represent two sides of the same coin,
one the corporeal and the other the ethereal.
Aggression is as human as the need to breathe,
and kindness is a forced characteristic,
but do not cast aside the flame,
for love and fury are intertwined,
but do not confuse these with wrath and lust,
the difference is in motivation,
so if you seek truth,
stare both in the eye,
the material and transcendent,
God and Mammon,
the lord and the beast,
the father,
a representation of the good in the human heart,
hold close these virtues,
but do not suffocate them,
and if the father is good,
then the beast is the black sheep,
representing that darkness inherent in the heart of man,
this personification of evil,
a scapegoat,
although we are caught in the tempter's snare,
he is not the source,
and if he is your reflection,
love him first and cast him off second.
And if someone protests your belief in the abstract,
I say love them,
but I also say stand up,
and do what you feel is right,
and walk your own way,
not the path chosen for you.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 1:07 PM UTC
On Death's midnight hour I had not dream
The days hath gone away -- I couldn't deem
That the elder of these angels left the throne
And flown so sorrowfully by thee alone --
But thy lonesome soul shall limn to see
Not one hovering spirit free --
And where -- shall the asperity scythe cast
Over visions of the shadowed Past --
Of torrent of tormenting trauma
Filled with Manichaean mount and karma
Restlessly rolling down necropolis
Past foot-hills of the dread that drop polis --
Or of the sound of a susurrus winged-sylph whom soar
Yet thunder her voice in a stricken Lion's roar
And uphold herself on heavens vault
And dare to curse that its all my fault --
So what now -- what now when the worst
Is the Devil's tempest durst
To ever define me to what I am today
To ever price my soul to what I have to pay
When the final price was paid when the Lord bled fast away.
May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 2:17 PM UTC
Everyday there's a growing
that stretches through the cracks of the ground
while my feet conscientiously step on them,
because if you step on a crack,
you'll break everyone's back.
This growing has blue eyes,
sapphireblue eyes,
oceanwater blue.
The Tempter. The serpent that
crawls freakishly across my feet.
Shall I smash his head against my heel?
No, his eyes. These sapphireblue eyes
oceanwater blue. They're
intruguing.
And if this sin is something that will break everyone's back.
I'm going to step on each one
until every hospital bed is full.
Nov 23, 2011
Nov 23, 2011 at 5:55 PM UTC
I've been to the Garden of Eden
Where the sun and moon share the same sky
Where stars were
precariously placed
The suns rays reflecting off the water
Standing there
I felt secure
Peace overwhelming my body
I stood in a perfect world
A perfect place
I knew where I was
The Garden of Eden
Luscious green grass grew above my feet
The morning dew danced on my shins
All around me, the flowers grew and flourished
Colored in white to depict God's perfect
creation
All noises echoed in perfect harmony
Animals executing perfect melody
Not missing a single beat
With such majesty, the waterfall towered before me
Looking down I saw my inner beauty in the water
I drank
Words cannot describe the water
Uncontrollably I wept
for I drank
of the
living water.
As I knelt before the living water
A haunting thud echoed in my ear
Motionless, I saw the forbidden fruit
I longingly stared at the glossy fruit
As it pierced through my soul
"Eat of the forbidden fruit", hissed the serprent.
"No", I declared, "for it is forbidden by my God!"
"Your God", he scoffed, " He is the tempter, not I!"
Keenly he stared at me, knowing my every weakness
Holding the apple in his grasp, I longed for intelligence.
"Yes, yes, yes", he whispered, "You are mine!"
"NO!", I screamed, "I belong to God!"
Splashing the water in his face
He cringed and screamed
The serpent burned before me
I awoke.
With a sudden realization
The Garden of Eden no longer exists
For it has been abolished
Just as Satan has promised
The Army of the Dead has arisen
to destroy God's
perfect
plan
So now church, where is our victory?
Shall we hide in fear for the days to come?
With our synonomus Christian comforts
And generous lives?
No! We must rise to the battle!
For the Garden of Eden no longer screams!
Rise up Army of life
For you have the eternal power
Stand up against the darkness
For you have
the
marvelous light.
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 9:28 PM UTC
It’s the motif of my life to dream things that other don’t dream,
So while I was dreaming of you, you weren’t dreaming of me,
And I walked through a hazy field, until the cool moon broke the horizon,
And the glorious clouds began to swell and bellow until they sang,
That as you spoke those words of yours were soothing sweet rain.
I let the drops fall to parade about my mind,
They washed my weariness and spoke of the refined,
But rain may not always be tame, and so joyous,
Too much can be alarming and ominous,
The nascent of floods that drown air in lungs
Or causes the sprout of a little seed I buried deep,
From a past that I don’t want to repeat.
So that as I lingered through these rain drops
In this large outstretched field; the seed’s buds vegetated
Into glorious trees stretching out, so at their sight my foot stops;
And clustering their branches they yielded a lustrous fruit,
The mere sight quivered my tongue in desire to make them sweat their juice,
But though it may be glorious such fruit has potential to offend;
I’d eaten it before; though scrumptious, with its effects
Now I feared to taste it once more,
Yet it now grew before me yet again.
My heart’s beats rang an alarm bell as I swallowed my inducing saliva,
That quickly I began to pluck them from where they grew,
So all were hastily pulled, as though their sight would be as eyeing Godiva,
And behind my back (to cease their being at my front) I threw,
Turning to leave -- there they all exhibit, elegantly displayed,
All neatly piled before me where they were accidently reaped,
In fear I grabbed them for their destruction and I started to run
Searching for a ravine, to dump this tempter that I heaped.
The sweet smell illuminated, I looked at the lovely red orbs,
I pulled one out, and rain drops continued to pour,
The more rain that fell, the more I would adore,
The fruit beckoned a bite, a small bit to absorb;
Always the rain continued to pour.
The rain led me on, so I thought it could be,
So I took a bite of the fruit that it made me see,
The taste was all but what I see in a dream’s eye,
For in a dream is all where the glory of such tastes lie.
This revelation struck me hard with that first small bite
The thunder clapped before me with a flashing bright,
I slipped in the mud, all the fruit upon my back rotting
Fell to the ground, splattered, dripping, melting in despair,
I dared to dream of you with that bite right there,
But it’s the motif of my life to dream of things that others don’t dream,
So, when I was dreaming of you, you weren’t dreaming of me.
Feb 22, 2010
Feb 22, 2010 at 6:49 AM UTC
*****
and how it smelled on your breath,
it was a miracle if the scent didnt linger,
within closed walls,
tight spaces,
they scare me to this very day,
all because of how you became,
Fights,
fought to near death,
I remember you with a knife in your hand,
threatening to end it for yourself,
as well as him,
there was anger in your voice,
behind your drunken slur,
All I could do was watch,
helpless and scared,
I was only 5 at the time,
No Wait! Younger
I was no more than 3 and a half or 4, yet, the memories, they don't leave me,
There was no mommy to run to,
she was the one creating all the fuss,
and, daddy...
well, he was already gone,
kicked out for my mothers selfish reasons,
she claims he hit her,
but my dad? no, he would never,
(despite his tempter)
People are quick to wonder,
why I am the way I am,
Always forgives,
but extremely hesitant to trust,
ever again...
It has always been a problem I've had,
never thought to solve it,
Thats what happens,
when you grow up too quickly,
surrounded by violence and promises,
that only turned into lies,
as time went by,
*No babygirl,
mommy hasn't been drinking,
she's just tired,*
Yeah Right
Wasn't that what you said the last time,
I caught you in a lie,
when I found the liquor bottles,
stashed in the cabinets,
you said you wanted to change,
For me
For Family
For Everybody
But I find it impossible to leave,
as I sit with my recollection of childhood memories
worth forgetting
Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 1:03 AM UTC
Under the sprawling Bodhi Tree,
Siddhartha sits with his primary vow:
How to alleviate suffering
In this world--here and now.
Suddenly, Mara appears--
Mara the tempter--with his sinister grin.
Siddhartha stays calm and unafraid
And graciously welcomes the tempter in.
Offering supernatural powers
Around which the human ego revolves,
Mara observes as Siddhartha sits,
And every thought of power dissolves.
Mara then offers his beautiful daughters,
Hoping Siddhartha yields to temptation.
In silence the unperturbed seeker
Shows the depth of his aspiration.
Growing furious, Mara calls up
Armies of demons of fear and desire.
They surely should stir Siddhartha's
Deep anxieties and inner fire.
Siddhartha merely gains greater insight
Instead of succumbing to Mara's ploys.
Mara departs in a rage, leaving
Siddhartha in a calm, quiescent poise.
After six days a Buddha "awakens"
As the traces of night start to disperse.
From looking into his innermost nature,
He's seen the face of the universe.
- by Bob B
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 10:47 AM UTC
Look at me, what a waste.
Torn apart and made a mess.
Look back, who is that?
Not me that's the past.
Watch me now, who am I?
Dangling of the cliff, ready to fall and sink.
Extend your hand, I'm in pain.
Tried so hard just in vain.
Made your prey, carve your name.
Let it scar and throb in pain.
Seal the pact in the night, let the shadow override.
Turn the filth into pure,
Let the day sink to night,
Covert pure white, to crimson red,
Let the pleasure be my pain.
You, tempter, become my knight,
Never lose and always fight.
Exchange my wings for your vow,
Brand your name unto my skin,
Watch it burn and fade to pink.
Personal martyr grant my wish,
Let me float before I sink.
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 11:12 PM UTC
I fainted on the train.
Knees weak, face flush, fast fall
down onto the bike rack.
I went blind. Faces clouded in white
carried me off and my mind
turned to sawdust and jelly and a dreamy haze.
I dreamt of you,
the dalliance of winters past,
the tempter.
Those Black Hole eyes that see through me.
My nemesis, my rash, my everything.
My wiggle knees are settled down, I’m okay.
EMTs talk through me
This happens on the train every day,
(so they say.)
I am not afraid. I am thirsty. I am on the way to Hospital.
I’m okay.
Jun 9, 2023
Jun 9, 2023 at 3:22 PM UTC
I want nothing
but to write.
To purge my body of
the weakness,
coiling around my stomach
like
Eve's seductive tempter.
To write, before dusk takes over
and I commit
an unoriginal sin.
But the forbidden fruit
smells like bourbon, and
I'm just
so
thirsty.
If I could write–
if I could tell blank paper
of my split soul, hovering
between agony and apathy–
then I could find
what I need.
But words have lost their luster,
stories are just
selfish ***** on pages,
and this pen
is running low on ink.
****
So I will write my last,
a suicide note
for the dying poet in me,
and pour myself
a round to serve the snake.
Sep 27, 2011
Sep 27, 2011 at 1:35 AM UTC