Author Topic: Poetry  (Read 11514 times)

enautopas

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Re: Poetry
« Reply #30 on: May 20, 2015, 09:25:55 PM »
Lilith, blackrose is not the only one to have those characters brought to mind from that line!




Lilith201

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Re: Poetry
« Reply #31 on: May 21, 2015, 03:35:09 AM »
Thanks for the compliments. I'm afraid I don't know who those two animation figures are!
blackrosefencer, that poem you wrote was genuinely terrifying.
"Ain't no burning hell."--John Lee Hooker

enautopas

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Re: Poetry
« Reply #32 on: May 21, 2015, 08:11:26 AM »
This is a piece I wrote after reading 'A Delusion of Satan' last year.

Massachusetts Virgin

The Sun is stopped,
By stonewall structures,
And Susan cannot leave the room
Her sadness is not all of sudden
But surfaces from certain doom

The window glows from the morning's
Rising orb of golden light,
Susan sits there in the silence
Frozen solid by her fright,

She's sitting thinking of tomorrow,
And the noose around her neck,
The sentences of the faithful,
Prasing the Saviour for her death,

   For another witch will meet the gallows,
And another sickness will be cured,
Susan finally will meet her maker,
And answer before the Lord,

As she suffers in the silence,
She hears the jostling of a key,
The reverend and his congregation,
Has come for further questioning

They've brought another accusation
That she's sided with the side of sin,
And sold her soul in league with Satan
And now brings shame to all of them,

The Reverend explains rule is not from chaos
And there law and order are the case,
So it shall be for Satan's virgin,
Who in tears lifts not her face,

"There must be testing to decide,
If it is hell which reigns in thee,
If you are God's chosen child
Or among those damned eternally"

Ms. Mathers pulls out a needle,
As the deacons hold Susan down,
She picks and prods the devil child's
Neck to see what secrets are to be found,

For it is certain common knowledge,
To those found chosen of God's elect,
That witchs cannot feel pain or pleasure
On certain portions of their neck

And for three weeks they've been pinching,
With holy scrutiny and care,
To find the place of pain indifferent,
To expose and make it bare,

But three weeks straight she's only shown,
Signs of shrieking and sudden shock
But the Rev. thinks parts are hidden
So the pricking never stops

Inside Susan is a sensation,
Sadness, sorrow, call it what you will,
For her only hope to stop the stabbing,
Is to do her best to just sit still,

So she stands there firm indifferent,
To the stabbing from the flock,
The virgin's spot has been discovered!
The devil's mask has now come off!

Praise the Lord up in the highest!
Praise the Father, Son and Holy Ghost!
Lucifer's child has been delivered,
Into the hands of holy hosts!

And so in the morning it is decided
What is to be done with her,
They will suffer not a witch to live,
So after hanging she must be burned

In her heart Susan knows,
That's she's been prodded without cause,
That she has never hated Jesus,
But because of them now she does.

And in sweet death she's chosen freely,
As she's tied up to the birch,
In suicide she's found salvation,
From Jesus Christ and from his church.

blackrosefencer

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Re: Poetry
« Reply #33 on: May 21, 2015, 01:39:00 PM »

Thanks for the compliments. I'm afraid I don't know who those two animation figures are!


That's okay, Lillith. That's why they invented Youtube!! :-D Enjoy!



Quote
blackrosefencer, that poem you wrote was genuinely terrifying.

Well, considering it was genuinely terrifying to live through that, I'd say that the poem did exactly as intended. I'm glad it came off as terrifying! Makes up for it not being Satanic. It was a time in my life when I definitely didn't feel much like the strong, Satanic woman I am today (as Rational Eccentric so eloquently put it). But I know that I would be an entirely different person if I hadn't had those experiences. So it's just one of those bumps on the road of life that you drive over and then leave behind.

Another good one, enautopas!  :)
« Last Edit: May 21, 2015, 01:42:10 PM by blackrosefencer »

Lilith201

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Re: Poetry
« Reply #34 on: May 28, 2015, 03:40:27 PM »
Enautopas, I liked your poem too.

I'm posting this one just to annoy Sarah, Beth and Bridget  ;)  I call it "Psychotherapist's Lament, the Non-Compliant Patient." Most people who come to see me have their own opinions and aren't very suggestible:

The elixir was mixed,
the potion had been poured,
the candles were all burning,
over the Book of Spells I’d pored.
I handed you the goblet;
my commandment you ignored.
I intoned the incantation;
you sat and just looked bored.
I looked into the crystal ball
and told you of your fortune.
You disagreed. But how, may I ask;
of the two of us there’s only one
who is the sorceress.
Why did I paint the pentagram
and summon all the spirits?
I’ll have you know I’ll still be charging
my fee for all your visits.
"Ain't no burning hell."--John Lee Hooker

None More Bitter

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Re: Poetry
« Reply #35 on: July 06, 2015, 06:13:39 PM »
heavy clouds
shone in silence
as we sank down
into deep mire

amid the waves
we died of thirst
gravity rose up
and smothered us

do you hear
the solitude
the color of a deep sigh
it sings to you

and all wept for
the last broken wish
not really understanding
what it meant

though they pretend
though they pretend
though they pretend
though they pretend

I turn found poetry into songs.
The song is only a few minutes but the video is about 40 altogether.
The video should start where this song starts, but if not it begins at 7 min 26 sec.
This is the only recording of this song I have that I like.

« Last Edit: July 06, 2015, 06:16:21 PM by None More Bitter »
I think things about stuff.

L1ZARDMAN23

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Re: Poetry
« Reply #36 on: July 16, 2015, 10:58:50 PM »
Maybe a little childish but it reflects my current emotional state well

You made me fall.
I fell hard.
I shouldn't have
dropped my guard. 

You held my heart
in your hand.
I didn't care
what you planned.

I was yours.
You were mine
but now its all
changed with time. 

I held your heart
in my hand
but now it has
turned to sand. 

I cannot stop
loving you. 
But now you have
a different view. 

Why not just
throw away
the pieces that
have decayed?

You stay with me. 
What is meant?
Your love of me
is absent. 

I don't know
what to feel.
Either tortured
or surreal. 

What I should
doesn't matter. 
I feel much like
a mad hatter. 

I'm strucken by
insanity. 
Hurt, almost
without pitty. 

But I'll stay. 
I love you
no matter what
you put me through. 

You are good
on my shelf. 
I'll let you
find yourself. 

I wish your love
to return
and if not
my world will burn. 

Oh but dear
use your will. 
Do not agknowledge
what is fulfilled. 

You made us fall
then got back up. 
I just want
to fill your cup. 
Morality is human instinct and something that differs from person to person.  "Evil", "Good", it is all subjective, dependent upon that person's specific morality.  All human life, regardless of religion, contribution or genetic factors has equal value that is more valuable than all other  life.

Lilith201

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Re: Poetry
« Reply #37 on: July 23, 2015, 04:56:25 PM »
Hey, I like the poem, Lizard, especially the first four verses.
"Ain't no burning hell."--John Lee Hooker

samowens84

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Re: Poetry
« Reply #38 on: July 26, 2015, 03:05:43 PM »
I'm kind of new here and I like to write poetry, so this seems to be the easiest way to dive right in.

Son of the Mourning

The path of the human is beset by all sides the scales.

Pens exchange fires transforming deeds into open burns

While tired and weary castaways are set outside of the inn.

We will burn! We will burn!-into tomorrow we are churned

And churning with the faith of a mustard seed we are feed!

For children and acorn’s creed we are meant to burn!--

Today we are denied our due safety of the clockwork

Provided by the son of tomorrow’s redness

Destined that instead we should burn for the sake of the son dew’s mourning.


L1ZARDMAN23

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Re: Poetry
« Reply #39 on: July 28, 2015, 08:09:48 PM »

I'm kind of new here and I like to write poetry, so this seems to be the easiest way to dive right in.

Son of the Mourning

The path of the human is beset by all sides the scales.

Pens exchange fires transforming deeds into open burns

While tired and weary castaways are set outside of the inn.

We will burn! We will burn!-into tomorrow we are churned

And churning with the faith of a mustard seed we are feed!

For children and acorn’s creed we are meant to burn!--

Today we are denied our due safety of the clockwork

Provided by the son of tomorrow’s redness

Destined that instead we should burn for the sake of the son dew’s mourning.




Nice, I really enjoy the word usage and metaphors. 
Morality is human instinct and something that differs from person to person.  "Evil", "Good", it is all subjective, dependent upon that person's specific morality.  All human life, regardless of religion, contribution or genetic factors has equal value that is more valuable than all other  life.

samowens84

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Re: Poetry
« Reply #40 on: July 28, 2015, 08:34:53 PM »
Thank you  :)

samowens84

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Re: Poetry
« Reply #41 on: July 28, 2015, 08:54:14 PM »
By the way, I like these lines in your poem "What I should
doesn't matter.  
I feel much like
a mad hatter" the first two lines appear to me to reflect the amoral nature, at least in my experience, of relationships. The last two lines of this stanza are interesting. Of course it obviously is a reference to Alice in Wonderland, where everyone is just sitting around drinking tea, singing songs about how mad they are, and celebrating their unbirthday. Also, it could be a reference to how a person must wear many hats in a relationship. Could be a polyamorous reference, and that would synchronize the amoral stance of the first two lines. Just some random thoughts of your poem that I found interesting.

L1ZARDMAN23

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Re: Poetry
« Reply #42 on: July 29, 2015, 06:04:21 PM »
Honestly I was referencing the sense of insanity that I felt, but I really do like the other meaning you found.  I find that many people find new meaning in their own writings, drawings, paintings, etc.  much later on and usually it is discovered through other people.  Much like how Robert Frost only discovered the meaning of doing the unpopular thing in The Road Less Traveled after someone had mentioned that interpretation to him.  And thankyou, I thought that that was one of the cheesier lines but I'm glad to see another enjoys it. 
Morality is human instinct and something that differs from person to person.  "Evil", "Good", it is all subjective, dependent upon that person's specific morality.  All human life, regardless of religion, contribution or genetic factors has equal value that is more valuable than all other  life.

samowens84

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Re: Poetry
« Reply #43 on: July 29, 2015, 08:55:24 PM »
Eve’s Apology

Oh Eve, how I want you to whisper in my ear!

Make me fall, make me know the gray abyss

Foundered in old snow I seek the wisdom that stems

From the fruit of your womb.

Your fruit is a mystery that charges the fire that burns

To ashes and brings me from fate into God’s lashes.

Though the birth pains of wisdom burn you alive,

You braved the darkness and brought us death

So that I may feel alive!-I beg thee speak your sweet death to me,

That I may be whole without cud into the light of blessed darkness

And Turkish delight!-I love you Eve! Come to me, so that I may rest

In thy words of freedom and so that I may pray to thee!

Oh mother of all, and pioneer of knowledge give me thy kiss

in temperance of temporality

Into fires burning of truth of hell in my soul in death I live, and in death I burn!

I taste your name on my lips to forever yearn for the knowledge that was stolen

And not given I accept your blame so that darkness may spring into lighted matches

So that I may see the way into your forbidden doors and hidden latches.

That thing that people call sin is the fruit that sprang from your limbs

And I watch you writhe as apples spring forth and light my way.

I see because of you! I live because you died!  You are my muse and my eternal youth!

 From thy fatal spring I spring forward for divinity now springing forth from all mankind.

Lilith201

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Re: Poetry
« Reply #44 on: August 19, 2015, 07:10:58 PM »
I like the female-positive poem, Sam.

This isn't my best poem, but the most explicitly Satanic. I wrote it the other day:

Is Pride truly a sin? Is it better to submit, to put out the fire within?
Why bow down to those who are inferior? Why bow down at all?
It’s true, Pride did lead to your Fall.
But as a great poet once said,
to rule oneself trumps any cushioned servitude.
Self-rule, once viewed,
will never be forsaken.
I hear your name vilified by those terrified, yet to awaken
from their childish dreamland,
those who cannot imagine taking a stand,
who fear to seize their own power.
Perhaps your weakness was not Pride but Faith—
a belief that more would rebel, dismantle the lathe
of Heaven, free the cherubim and seraphim. Not Arrogance but Hope.
It must be difficult at times to cope
with your failure. But take heart, the rebellion continues, though not above.
Those of us to whom you gave Knowledge wage the struggle on Earth,
where we pursue Truth, but do not forget Love.
"Ain't no burning hell."--John Lee Hooker