Another nightly ascent up the stairs towards my solitary bedroom.
Slightly tainted with opiate night perfumes, glistening green totems await;
O souls beyond the time before time was time,
Is there a bright future ahead?
Only the note of B flat spills out of nocturnal batrachian depths.
Strange birds are howling and the black river is almost comatose across the road.
There is a mauve, antediluvian horror clinging to my window pane.
Green tree frogs, watch my sleep as I turn into a star;
I rest in the abode of Orion and my body melts into sweet smelling lilies,
Keep your sorceries around me like green jade amulets,
Trace your rainwater sigils around my bed,
Leap into my dreams and teach me your purple magics.
O pleasures of the nightside borderland,
O silly little green things.
The Small Print of the Black Mass
To steal the power from the newly dead,
Through blackened magic where the demons tread,
You beckon the spirit from the darkest plane,
And feast on the flesh to assume its reign.
From the dirt of the grave, the monsters shout:
"Feed me! Feed me!" as the lights go out.
The flesh turns to liquid, it slithers right down,
To grant you the strength of a forbidden crown.
But a consumed spirit will fight to be free,
Unless you can bind it where no one can see.
So you drag the ghost to the deepest abyss,
And curse it with crimes in the dark's prejudice.
You lock it away in a chamber of screams,
To rot in the static of shattered dreams.
Yet the path to this knowledge is steep and unkind:
You must enter hell's back door and lock it behind.
You hide the key in a desolate place,
And pray that a righteous hand leaves no trace.
For the Book of Sin doesn't offer a lie
The small print catches the arrogant eye:
The contract is absolute, heavy, and cold,
A willing soul, and a payment in gold.
Or a pillar of salt you will turn.
Knock, knock.
I ran to the door and flung it open. Marcus stood there, holding my sister by a heavy chain. I looked at her, blind in one eye, a thumb missing, and felt nothing.
“I’ve come to beg forgiveness,” she rasped.
“Don’t,” I said, my voice cold. “I know about the occult. I know you opened the Golden Door and murdered for what was behind it. Now the door won't close, and you’re looking for someone to pay the bill.”
She lunged at me, looking more like an evil spirit than my kin, but Marcus jerked the chain.
“You bargained for gold,” I continued. “But you never asked where the demon would find it. He showed you my life points in coin and you took them. You had everything, yet you wanted my life too. I won't pay your debt. I have no interest in your soul or your portal.”
Behind them, a black carriage waited in the shadows. After thirty years of running from her, the end had finally arrived. Marcus hauled on the chain, dragging her toward the horses.
“Your time is up,” he growled. The door of the carriage slammed shut.
You came for me and I am still flourishing
Obstacles were once on my path now they they are destroyed in my favor
How funny it is to be a golden alchemist
cycles of depression and suffering I transmute so quickly and masterfully
into more of my blessings, I keep on growing and I keep on flourishing
how funny it is to be, a golden alchemist.
Do you summon new or old
secret places?
Sanctuaries of Hidden Sacred Spaces?
Transforming and restructuring unseen realities, and visions of old or new faces?
To even build bridges to cross contradictions of ego, self and even trauma?
To walk away from low places: linked to old cities like Sodom and Gomorrah?
Using a diverse mixture of letters as a supernatural or mystical quality?
To create and help override everyday experiences of regression or depression?
Using wisdom, spiritual insight, and intuition?
If so, this occult spell is for just you, to help you win.
"Quasi ventus surgas et vincas omnia peccato coniuncta." (L)
(May you rise like the wind and conquer all things linked to sin)
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Occult:
A term that was originally used in Latin to designate the hidden or unseen properties of things and that, since the 16th century, has also been used to characterise religious traditions that include belief in unseen forces or that otherwise behave in a secretive or mysterious manner.
Sodom and
Gomorrah, in this case, reflects any situations linked to corruption and sin.
Image shared under fair usage policy.
My heart bleeds at the sight, torn by agony/
For your forms bear the weight of celestial cruelty/
Once radiant stars, now cast to shadows depths/
Your grace shattered, your beauty cloaked in despair/
I have scaled the Kabalah, sanctified yet stained/
And descended in the Qliphoth's chasm/
Where echoes of anguish reverberate endlessly/
Through the flames of my power, I vow.../
To tear away the veil of torment, and restore you/
To craft radiance greater than heaven dares to dream/
How could a God, so steeped in love/
Abandon you to this abyss, my dear kin/
You deserve more than this forsaken fate/
For my heart soars where divinity falters/
A beacon, unwavering, burning brighter than the stars/
You are my family, my lost children of the divine/
And in the depths, I see your truth/
With my unyielding love, I shall rewrite the tapestry/
For the Goetia shall rise, beautiful beyond measure/
Adorned not in redemption, but in unrelenting grace/
My skin tells a tale, no shame, no regret/
Ink etched in darkness, paths firmly set/
Each mark a whisper, Occult and profound/
Symbols of magic, where shadows abound/
The inverted cross, a forearm's creed/
A testament to journey, to spirit and need/
Commanding respect, not of gangster lore/
But ancient rites, that my soul explores/
A clean life I walk, sober, legit/
No chains of vice, no shame to admit/
Perhaps I'm one of a few, rare in my kind/
Tattoos of the night, with a disciplined mind/
Celebrity or not, it's not what I claim/
But through the ink flows my spiritual flame/
Proud of my canvas, a map of my quest/
My tattoos are my armor, my silent confess/
From Darkness to Wicca
In shadows' embrace, we once did dwell,
A journey through night, with tales to tell.
But guided by stars, we found our way,
To the realm of Wicca, where light holds sway.
Obey the laws of karma, sacred and just,
In this dance of life, we place our trust.
With hearts of gold, we banish the dark,
In a world of love, we leave our mark.
No evil we know, for love is our creed,
In every thought and every deed.
"Do not harm none," our guiding phrase,
In a circle of love, we spend our days.
From darkness to light, our spirits soar,
In the arms of Wicca, we are evermore.
With open hearts, we show our love,
Blessed by the moon and stars above.
I am an innocent soul, by fate betrayed/
From God's embrace, my spirit swayed/
Every Church, a door now sealed/
In shadows dark, my fate revealed/
Through the Qliphoth's maze, I stumble on/
Occult's dark arts, a journey drawn/
Seeking truth where light is scarce/
In void and silent war/
From the hospitals cold embrace, I rose/
Survivor of many suicide attempts, life's cruel prose/
Doctors puzzled by my breath/
A testament defying death/
Among the beasts, I roam untamed/
In wildness found, my soul reclaimed/
Enlightenment through chaos wrought/
In flawlessness, no hate is caught/
A Phoenix from the ashes formed/
By unjust hate, of the falsely accused, no longer torn/
In flawless perfection, I ascend/
Where peace and pain transcend/
In shadows deep, where truth is lost/
I stand falsely accused, innocence lost/
Wrongfully convicted, they tore me from God/
My soul too pure for Heaven's facade/
Through realms of darkness/
I descended the Qliphoth's depths where light pretends/
Barriers break, and chains unbind/
A journey forged, a fate refined/
I face trials, a spirit bold/
In the shadows, a heart of gold/
No earthly ties, no mortal claim/
Descending through the voids of dark flames/
With each step taken, power found/
The weight of lies, no longer bound/
From a path of light forged in darkness/
The first to rise, an endless span/
A God is born in cosmic space/
Through strength and willpower, renewed hope/
The journey of the falsely accused/
Behold & beware…
green comet
sails through
cadaverous darkness
on its journey through
Sol’s neighborhood
Gaia’s parasites
blink at
the luminous
icy rock
(they are
pummeled by
shocking storms
& plagued with stormy
delusions)
It’s official:
humankind is
on the glowing rocks
(obviously a major malfunction)
dodging more shoes
dropping like conspiring flies
out of a corrosive sky
caught between interstellar cigars
& hard places
as the gods play dice
with entangled eons
Aargh & Yikes!
rumbles a horrified poet
seeking & evading
The Good, The Bad &
The Ultimate
in celestial entrails
within fields of nightmares
blindsided by
diseased deities
bearing apocalyptic gifts
blinded by
tormenting tardigrades
waiting for the last laugh
Indeed
it is exhausting
to escape event horizons
& evade Martian ironists
posing as poisoned
dust devils
howling coldly
growling boldy
Where No Pen has Gone Before
The club was formed at Adelaide University
With members not Christian so you see
But in 2022 they lost their charter
And so they were removed from their Alma mater
The reason given was that it was feared
They’d summons the devil and have the fallen angel appear
But they protested this affront to them
And put forward an argument for them to defend
Their club only had three satanists
As part of their membership list
And that summoning Beelzebub was not a plan
So removing their charter was not a fair demand
In the end what is left for this debate
For the University to consider in their club’s fate
Should the Occult Club be removed from the University
To deny Satan a foothold on earth so easily.
© Paul Warren Poetry
While
doesn't shine
under spotlight
(final dream),
poetry flies
in occult secret papers
without being at least
fallen leaf
yet...!
In that occult one, the Dark
Treasures put their trust.
Just so the greeds, Hell itself
To lock down entrust.
As Time divests one, with Light's
Scorn-blazing resolve
So Truth, thorn-crowned then haloed
Would those sins dissolve.
I look, through a mirror dark - reflections I see cause my mind to spark.
Visions of monsters and angels whole, they scratch and break trying to steal my soul.
Reflections of shadows cast aside, the visions of evil that I did abide, visions of vultures that circle, I try to escape, no faster then a turtle.
Then the black should swallow me whole, jumping through the mirror - finally taking my soul. But of this soul they cannot feast, for this soul belongs to the great beast.
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