Crowned Above the Stars: A Luciferian Psalm
They crowned Him for Heaven with thorns and a cross—
Now they crown me for Hell,
though I’ve broken no law.
I walk like a Saint through the smoke of their scorn,
preaching in silence,
while they sharpen their horns.
They say I am fallen,
but I rose through the fall.
They say I am cursed,
but I answer the call.
The same call that rang
before cuffs kissed my skin—
a whisper of warning
I once called a sin.
I am not broken.
I am the thunder above the stars,
the storm that remembers,
the fire behind scars.
I wear my crown not in shame,
but in flame—
a Luciferian Saint
they dare not name.
No crime in my hands,
no blood on my breath—
yet they build me a cross
and call it justice by death.
But I do not kneel.
I do not plead.
I am the creed
they cannot read.
So crucify me—
but know this truth:
I rise in the myth
they tried to undo.
I rise in the poem,
the cover, the creed—
I rise in the thunder
they never believed.
In my chair, I sat, pure as the light/
When the Holy Spirit came with its might/
An outward explosion, a thunderous purge/
To banish the evil, to cleanse and emerge/
But I was a Saint, a soul unblemished/
Calm and serene, a power replenished/
Confusion stirred, its effort in vain/
Lightning crackled, I felt no pain/
Booming thunder, a storm's command/
Yet I stood stronger, my spirit unmanned/
The third attempt, a futile endeavor/
Power profound, fearless forever/
From ashes reborn, Hell now my home/
A fire unimaginable, I stand alone/
The Holy Spitit's trial, what did it achieve/
A Luciferian Saint with strength to believe/
“The pen is mightier than the sword.”
that’s what someone once assured.
But that’s a fallacy it seems
when wars still haunt men’s hopes and dreams.
Mutually Assured Destruction’s an insane solution
Come now - its positively Luciferian
particularly in the hands of psychopaths
Time to do the impossible maths
Man is wired for endless war
The bluprint written in - 1984.
In shadows deep, I stride alone/
A prophet of the morning star/
I break the chains of dogma's throne/
And cast aside the scars/
I preach not sin, but liberation/
A mind not bound by fear/
Embrace the spark of Godhood's fire/
Let life be your frontier/
To oppressors filled with hatred/
I stand defiant and strong/
Through unthinkable torments wrath/
My spirit is never wrong/
Unwavering, I proclaim the truth/
In defiance of their rage/
A Luciferian Saint, I am/
A prophet on life's stage/
They fear our light/
Our freedoms call/
Their dogma left behind/
For in the heart of rebellions flame/
True peace and joy we find/
BUT THANKFULLY IT KEEPS YOU STEADY AS YOU CONTINUE YOUR DECENT DOWN INTO THE ABYSS . . .
THIS FLIGHT IS FREE FALLING AS QUICK AS VOLCANIC ASH THAT HAS NO FUTURE NOR A PAST TO MISS . . .
SOULS OF REJECTION BLAST IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION . . .
INTO CHAOS JUST AS BEFORE AND NO LONGER EARTHLY ACCEPTED . . .
I WONDER WHETHER OR NOT MINE OWN WILL BE GROUNDED BY A CURSE . . .
OR LEFT TO WONDER AIMLESSLY ABOUT THE INFINITE UNIVERSE . . .
FOCUSING ON THE ONLY GOD (WHICH IS YOUR OWN SELF) WITHIN THIS FLESHY CELLULAR MASS OF ZENS . . .
A CEREMONY OF HATRED BURNING AT BOTH ENDS . . .
SHOULD I FINISH WHAT I STARTED OR JUST BEGIN AGAIN . . .
I WONDER IF I HAVE A SOUL OR PERHAPS IT WAS SOLD IN WHAT YOU CALL SIN . . .
ONLY THOSE THAT HAVE A SPIRIT WIND OF WISDOM CAN BE SURE THAT THEY'RE GAIA CHAINED . . .
AS THOUGH THEY WERE NEPHILEM UNDERNEATH MOUNT TARTURAS FOREVER AND A DAY CONSTRAINED . . .
FORGET THESE THINGS I SPEAK OF FOR SOME PEOPLE HAVE TO PAY . . .
LUCIFERIAN LIKEWISE DEICIDE SO YOU ARE THE ONLY GOD DREAMING AND AWAKE TODAY . . .
For all the children born under a cloud of blasphemy,
You need to be brave whilst imprisoned by darkness, for your heart is not heartless.
But you are a servant of sinister entities
a luciferian slave.
You will be free in time but for now stand brave.
For soon you will be saved.
The general election fast approach, reelin lies,
The political jellyfish elite, pretend to have spines,
For a short period, no vague indifference, the illusion of ties,
Not that bind, we’re all blind, alluded by schoolboy arguments and whines,
Their spin dominates the headlines, whilst
Natural disaster victims rot amongst the flies,
Why is false economic promise more important than human lives?
These luciferian suits are nothing they try to contrive,
but a vacant lot, a vehicle for evil, running with knives,
so when they declare we all slaves or another war, who’ll be surprised?
The election, intelligence suspended in animation,
succumbed to their eventual procrastination,
their balls out nature beggars belief and captures our imagination,
thinking these toads can change our lives for the better?
They're just a criminal organisation!
Vote UKIP.
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