- a Psychedelic Whistle Plays a Rhythm Into the Darkness -

Entering the dark side of a moonbeam on this evil lens of life, A gruesome old man recreates a murder time and time again, As the cold and lonely howling bitterness of the night escapes. The psychic contrasts go up in a surreal smoke-filled entirety. This is not lost to the all-seeing consciousness of the cosmos. Moaning a malefic agony of selfish needs devours all that’s good, Whilst under black leather gloves bleached deadly-white his bones, Fill the heart expelled with a legion of grieving spirits—sad and lost. A maze doth open as Dark Demons are made of rotten plank ridges, And scraps of empty emotions that maketh them all deliciously evil. Inside ashes intoxicated with the Hallowed Eve's evil kiss bringeth All a Gorgon-like gift so cursed and raised in Lucifer’s own Hellfire. Leaveth them to their executioners and wash your own hands clean! Cain within life's garden dwells as a zombie—a grief-stricken animal, As a psychedelic whistle plays a rhythm into the darkness of the cosmos. Ebony darkness seduces as a fire burns black ebony removing the flesh. Ice-cold tears in anxiety fall, shouting loudly that nobody sees nor hears The jealous whimpering of jackals needing love with no way to find it. There remains emotionless beings who kill passion with a crocodile’s bite. Fear not the tempting by Lucifer as long as the silver crucifix adorns thee! Fireflies born in a hellish fury cast in anger the past sins of those doomed, Yet they can be "Bearers of an Ancient Light” for things good and noble, If they can passeth through the veil of evil and darkness into God’s light. When the smoke blows away pride there’s no remorse only danger ahead! The silence afterwards is deafening to those of holy-pure mortal blood! Understanding of reality loses its meaning in this evil realm of darkness, As an agonising pain is cleared in an eclipse found under “Hate's Trigger.” Under a deep crater twilight ghosts rise as “Shadow Beggars of Despair,” Whilst feeling unholy torment in nerve fibers of a past-life enchantment. Only Lucifer knows this truth as he collects souls for eternal damnation! Uncanny conversations are secret and bloody-confused in Hell’s own pit. Rising from the ashes unhappy beasts mark the ground with sharp claws, As disoriented tongues of envy are struck down by lightning bolts blinded. Lucifer knows the omnipotence of the psychedelic whistle as it plays its Rhythm bewitching all lost souls as they enter the darkness of the cosmos! 19.05.2017 Anne-Lise Andresen, Gary Bateman, and Liam McDaid A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (Narrative)