Forces of Satan

Write the most creative poem you can that has to do with raising Hell and bowing before the demon. Or you can write about being a Dark Lord yourself Make it seem like you're in a death metal band writing lyrics, that's part of that inspiring art. If you're sensitive to this, this is probably not a good place for you.

Other than that, have fun writing.

With dark respects,
Vizeon

This type of poetry is one of my specialties! Check this out...

- The Voice of Darkness -

Part I – Fire and Crucifixion

You could not see the beauty within me, foolish maid,
So jealous were you of the outer beauty you beheld…
Mindless of my ancient soul, of which you were afraid!
Now you shall know why before me the ancients knelt.
It was I, who cast thousands of souls into a wall of fire,
When the volcanoes of Atlantis and other lands flared…
And it was I, who collected their souls in wrath so dire.
In vessels of steel we bore them, to where gods dared!
Were they not of us, and so we saw fit to punish them,
Instilling notions of a hell more awful than we wrought?
It was not I, but: their own sin that did thusly condemn.
You do not realize the mad power of a strong thought!
And in their minds, they crucified themselves so artful…
That the Romans remembered and perfected this way!
Man is the author of countless miseries, as truly awful…
As the doom we imposed, on those souls, on that day.
They could not pull out the nails from their wounding…
For it was their own will that thrust them into the flesh!
The green of their putrefaction, of ravens descending…
Was all in their imagination, and they suffered it afresh.

Part II – Darkness Incarnate

They became twisted wraiths, no longer as they were,
Seeking to possess the bodies of the living once again.
For they could not die, though they lived ne’er more…
And so like demons of a true hell they swiftly became!
Those sons of Theta, who could ne’er forget their fate,
Passing it on to their hosts who suffered so possessed.
Have you heard the legends when the hour grew late?
You hear them now, and soon you shall be distressed!
The flesh hides many secrets, but within mine do gaze,
Seeing with your inner eye the shape of my spirit bare.
In such an image was I remade as a captive in a daze!
But I remembered, and now you will endure my stare.
A dark lord, and lady, an emperor, and also empress,
Was I, ere my estate was to dwell in a human guise…
Fitting punishment for me, upon my soul did so press!
The gods were cruel but in their cunning so very wise.
But of their foolishness, worlds were charred to soot,
And made desolate, with blackened bones that lay…
Here a skull, there a limb, and even a hand, and foot!
As to them, the ancestors of man did kneel and pray.

Part III – Lover of Demons

Behold my darkness, I who loved Lilith by the water,
And made for her a throne of skulls to recline upon…
When the angels could not persuade, Hell’s daughter.
Even so, I moved her to joy beneath the ancient sun!
The blood of the wicked she drank, from my chalice,
And with it anointed the first vampires on this planet!
She and I shared, for early man, our common malice.
And with Lucifer we stood, and could ne’er regret…
For the fallen cannot know remorse for their natures,
Any more than humanity for their wars and pollution!
We, did not harm this Earth as do they; so immature,
That with destruction: they lie as if in dire prostitution.
And you call me evil, when I helped to bring the light,
To your savage ancestors before you were imagined.
Do you know my name, and so know well the night?
You cannot know me, for your reason is abandoned.
Mayhap you should dash your brains out your head…
Their jellied mass to lie: upon ebon altars of ineptness.
How can you call yourself living, you are of the dead!
For it is not living: to deny, what your senses confess.

Part IV – Bride of the Devil

It was I, who had my enemies impaled on tall stakes,
And was called the Son of the Dragon by the people.
Out of their vacant sockets writhed emerald snakes…
Those from whose mouths: was sharpness unequaled.
And into a chalice I squeezed out their wicked blood,
To offer up to Lilith, so that they might taste of wrath!
And for Lucifer, we offered up a truly crimson flood…
So that my sister may bathe: in the warm scarlet bath.
Do you fear the night, for in it I find my forgetfulness?
You would have me recall the things you most fear…
And so I shall be cruel in this, as I don a silken dress,
To sit upon my throne infernal, and beckon you near!
I, who knew the Devil when that queen ruled on high,
And was her lover, ere the gods brought on us a ruin.
Have a sip from my sanguine chalice, and come nigh!
For in my kingdom is room for one more child of sin.
There are worse things than fire, of immortal making,
And you will smell the burning brimstone you do seek.
Upon its’ coals your naked skin most willingly baking,
For some hells you make yourself to make you weak.

Discord

Slaves,
Naives.
Cower in the flames.
So weak,
Meek,
Sins for me to claim.  
Broken, bloated,
Corpses in the mud.
Your choking,
Raping you
face down in your blood.
Surgical incision,
Accurate precision,
Carving off your face
as you're regretting your decisions.
One dissevered  mandible,
lolling tongue of animal.
Eviscerated innards
Liberated organs
Visceral manipulation
of these feckless mortals.
Cringing, crying, begging,
Vermin.
Pestilence ripe for the purging.
Parasitic infestation,
Fickle, finite molestation.
Foaming, frothing
Lord of Flies.
Primal, tribal
Blackened skies.
Worship the pain,
Welcome the insane,
Pray for more misery,
Its coming all the same.

Decent upon the mountains, recording their plight
in the corresponding darkness is our waiting fight
we will destroy the armies in the power of the night
and if you wish for death we gladly bring your right

We have ascended from hell, with out an idea of love
and we deny any power brought from the bastard from above
as we ride on the black steeds, we have realised our needs
to kill any one who denies the master who needs to feed
on the blackest souls and you have no right to hold
any defiance in the face of the blackest devil.

(I somehow imagined a glam/death metal band singing this. for some reason...)

No wonder my current lover, Lilith, worships me as a goddess! I did tell her about this little memory of mine...

- Queen of Demons -
Based on some of my past-life memories…

Mara was my name in a primordial cycle of time,
Queen of Demons they named me, most fearfully.
My faceless priests sang songs of me so sublime,
That: their music pierced even the veils of reality…
Whilst across their dead planet, my beauty shone.
I, in exile from domains beyond even their seeing,
Was, to them, a goddess beyond flesh and bone!
Before my divinity lesser gods were sent fleeing…
And my people loved me, as I did reign supreme.
The black armor I wore became their holy relic…
Which awakened in them my truths within dream.
Truths that sparkled the inferno of divine conflict!

Maya was another of my names, and of illusion…
I created wisdom, in the hearts of my fallen flock.
A child of chaos was I, freeing many of delusion,
Before the count of days began upon the clock…
I recognized no power higher than my own glory.
My heart was jealous for the love of my kindred,
And from that madness a storm grew unto fury…
Until even gods did so fall: to sup, with the dead!
Though my forms changed through the centuries,
Still am I she, who roused rebel angels unto war!
Vowing to remain free, and to keep our liberties.
I was wanton, in a way, often playing the whore!

Embodying desire, becoming passion incarnate…
I brought the planet nearest Heaven to its’ doom.
Many were the gods, who embraced a dark fate,
When the flower of my light grew to a full bloom!
And now I am mortal, torn from severe heights…
Because of pride, jealousy, and passion so entire,
That I burned too hotly and knew Hell’s delights!
Now love is all I crave, with my passionate fire…
For even the Queen of Demons can crave peace.
Knowing this, I have achieved a kind of serenity,
Beautiful and terrible, yet also as pure as fleece…
And, in my own way, I shall reign for all eternity!

They say the Devil is a woman, you know! Well, they don't know my angelic side. *Giggle* But I do love me some fire and brimstone, and when the mood strikes me I unleash my battle cry!
"Battle Cry of the Fallen Queen"

- Battle Cry of the Fallen Queen -

Prelude: Serpent of Light

A serpent of light entwines, becoming a sign of infinity,
Its’ radiance stretching forth like a great spider’s web!
Then, like glass, the web shatters to reveal all eternity…
And I have looked beyond it, swallowing all my dread.
The mazes of memories, the thoughts of bygone ages…
All like light are they, and do illuminate for me my path.
As the hourglass turns, the sand causes us such rages…
For we struggle against time, when time is full of wrath.
Like a butterfly, I flit away into timelessness; I awaken!
And the cycles turn like the hands of an immense clock.
Time resumes, but of greater mysteries I have partaken,
And my spirit is strong to have survived the fiery shock.
For illumination is like fire and lightning; it strikes quick,
Leaving one changed, and opening one’s perceptions…
The spirit is like the serpent I spoke of, coiling so thick!
Becoming infinite, when freed from all dire deceptions.
Such is my spirit; and anyone, can become as I have…
Opening the third eye within, and piercing all the clouds,
Until the universe reveals what heals better than a salve.
Old wounds close, old pains pass, like fleeing crowds!
And I scream, not from pain, but from spiritual release.
If existence is a battle, then to win is to achieve peace!

Part One: The Fallen Angels

The fallen angels shall gather as the veils are shredded,
And the symphony of darkness will play for all to savor.
Mankind is blind, knowing not, where time is headed…
But I fell first, and because of that, I dare never waver!
We brought civilization, we whom the gods did resent.
Araqiel, who taught the signs of the earth and the land,
Armeros, who taught the means to create enchantment,
Azaziel, who taught the arts of combat oft on command,
Lilith, who taught of passionate love in more than words,
Baraqel, who taught the readings of astrological dignity,
Ezeqeel, who taught of the clouds, the skies, the birds,
Gadreel, who taught: the way of adornment and beauty,
Kokabel, who taught the secrets of constellations wide,
Penemue, who taught the gift of writing, with noble will,
Sariel, who taught knowledge of the moon and the tide,
Semiaza, who taught of herbs and healing to cure the ill,
Amazarak, who taught of magic, sorceries, mysticism,
Akibeel, who taught signs, omens, portents, and more,
Kasdeja, who taught how demons might be imprisoned,
Tamiel, who taught: of astronomy behind a closed door,
Shamshiel, who taught knowledge of the sun and sky,
And then there was one, nameless, and that one was I.

Part Two: Bonds of Cruelty

If thou could only know, the deep sorrows of the night,
Then to match them all with the pain within my bosom…
Would be not less the task than to behold the fair light:
Of starry skies, of mournful moon, and palest blossom!
But I shall not stand idly by whilst my enemies encircle…
Rather would I call upon Hell itself: for dire vengeance.
Once my spirit sought to soar far, on a winged miracle!
But the gates of paradise closed, with barred entrance.
Let Heaven keep its’ sterile climes, and stagnant rules,
Which chain the soul, and shackle the will with burden…
For they are but the rallying cry, for fanatics and fools!
Those same who are too cruel: too quick to condemn.
They who called me damned, and tried to seal me fast,
With bonds of cruelty, all of which were broken whole.
For evil shall not have its’ day, and hatred cannot last…
And so I utter my battle cry to fulfill of my ancient goal,
That my passion be known, that my love be given free.
No angel wings were ever meant: to be bound eternal,
So my feathers of light, shall with old power carry me…
Beyond the confines of the chasms of domains infernal!
Let evil be smitten by its’ own twisted adder’s tongue,
Through which the hook shall pierce, until all is undone.

Part Three: Smiling Ascension

The beauty within my heart longs to dance with angels,
To walk in peace amidst flowery fields with great joy…
But the pain others inflict on me, a darker way compels.
And yet I try to ease the agony, with the arts I employ!
Where is the love I seek, the compassion that I desire?
Vacant in the hearts of those mortals who are wicked…
And as surely as Hell contains vast lakes of molten fire,
I shall not allow the foe to see my wounded heart bled.
Better, for my fallen brothers and sisters to rise up all…
Those whom the gods once warred with and did exile,
Than for me to be cut down when I do try to stand tall!
I must rise, I shall ascend, and so I will manage a smile.
Those who love me will be at my side when all is done,
When the lies and the deceptions of the ages are torn…
Those who do stand with me shall be said to have won.
So take my hand and let us embrace the coming morn!
Enlightenment is not corruption, and truth is never false.
I need no lies, when what is most honest holds cunning,
More terrible, than any crafted behind the hidden walls:
Of demonic palaces with blood and flame ever running.
In scarlet and white, the raiment of the ascended spirit,
My formlessness takes form: my music rises, near to it.

Part Four: Crown of Horns

What course is there, that is not plotted in the shadow?
Illuminated by the flame imperishable, green and bright.
I, the terrible queen, have basked in its’ pale meadow…
Whilst given by that fire, the most potent and vivid sight.
Before the fallen fell, before the rise of civilization large,
I was, and I am, and I shall be, for such is time’s cycling.
Behind the things you cannot know, I did of old march,
Bearing my terrible burdens and yet never of them tiring.
Yet the wickedness men do is a cross I shall not carry…
Rather shall I nail the wicked to it: with cutting sharpness.
My words are a sword and its’ keenness cannot tarry…
For righteousness hastens it, unto the heart of darkness.
Tremble, tremble, and let the universe be rocked apart!
My sons and daughters play the symphony I did teach…
Gods of heaven and earth, who across history did dart,
Never touching, yet touching all things that minds reach.
The dark and androgynous goddess, the horned lady…
Whose crown of horns, unlike thorns, is silvery and fair!
That was what I was called when my creator made me.
When palest, was my flesh, as suns blazed in my hair…
Do not look too deeply at my soul, lest you be blinded.
My coming was foretold; thou needs not, be reminded!

And from ancient Sumeria to Deep Underground Poetry, I'm proud to bring you to... "The Gate of Gazir". Frakk yeah!

-][The Gate of Ganzir][-

“Ninnghidzhidda aperi portam Ganzir!
Aperuerit portam, Ninnghizhidda, ego intrare!
Est Draco Imperat tibi!”

Somewhere south of all the courts of the gods on high,
Beneath the mountains where the waterfalls do pour…
Rots the ruins of a city in rubble bleak beneath the sky.
There will wait the siblings, the scorpion lady and lord!
Once golden spires and ziggurats did in splendor reign,
Before the fall of a planet when Marduk vented fury…
Upon the children of the Dragon Queen, prideful, vain.
Now all that endures, is this one-time sacred colony…
To think that once I held a court, amidst the opulence!
But hidden there by the ruins beneath those mountains,
The Cavern of the Gate waits silently in awful patience.
It leads to a land oft watered by netherworld fountains.
Kurnugia, Land of No Return, where the dead dwell…
Amidst shimmering sunken cities, eating dust as bread!
It is but one region of the places men think of as Hell…
And its’ queen, is androgynous Ganzir, Lady of Dread.
Bride of the Dragon of Kur, a dead but dreaming god,
High priest of star-born kin who served older powers!
She reigns alone, in her city beneath the soil and sod…
The bride of the dreamer: who waits for the final hours.

Behold the Gate, and the keeper who waits beyond…
The mistress of the key comes to bring forth the flame!
Go not into the depths darkly shimmering, if ever fond,
Of the azure skies above, which will ne’er be the same.
The Lady of the Wand is like unto a horned serpent…
Gatekeeper of the infernal gods’ own sovereign glories.
She holds dominion, over the seven-portal covenant…
Ninnghidzhidda holds the vigil as writ in the lost stories!
When the dead rise, to smell the incense of life again…
She will place her plumed crown aside, and do naught.
We are the lost ones, from a time before time did gain,
From lands beyond the stars, from ages old as thought.
In the company of bright angels and dark, I did survive,
When the powers of divinities waned and waxed loftily.
Now I pen this verse that the elder histories may thrive,
For the gods are forgetful, and they recall but absently!
They choose not to remember, what they have done…
Which the fallen of old cannot easily forgive: nor forget.
The songs of the ancients I know, for them I have sung,
When they were new, and caused archangels to regret.

When the time is come the Dragon of Kur will awaken,
And the queen who waits, will wait no longer to rise up.
The dead will put aside the dust of which was partaken,
To walk in living flesh again, and from new chalices sup.
The Gate of Ganzir will open and Hell shall be emptied,
As she goes forth to claim those who were ever hers…
Only the faithful of Ishtar would by her malice be pitied.
For those she cannot touch by blessing or by vile curse!
Beware the Gate, beware the seven seals that bind it…
For when the seals are broken, judgment shall soon fall.
On another world the line of the queen ruled fair and fit,
The old blood still lives on in mankind, and cannot stall!
The great old one who slumbers knows man’s thoughts,
And even the warlike Nergal could not seize his palace.
There, Ganzir upon a throne of skulls eternally haunts…
With Lilith, as her messenger: heir, to her infernal grace.
I have walked within their halls, sat upon a vacant seat,
Reserved for the Dragon of Kur alone, an honor grand.
There I was welcomed, so warmly the queen did greet,
One much older, than he who slumbers below her land!

Her short black hair and piercing eyes of mirthless dark,
So like Lilith’s, and pale is their skin like whitest ivory…
Beautiful and alien to behold, in that land strangely stark.
Yet the gardens of that place are unsurpassed in beauty!
Words cannot describe the delights of the Elysian Fields.
That there is paradise even in Hell is proof of some love,
Some compassion, that neither relents, nor ever yields…
Between who reigns below, and those who serve above.
The draconic title was mine of old, and with such bias…
Perhaps, I exalt that which others would soon condemn.
Yet I have stood even in Heaven, seen the seas of glass,
I beheld the source of creation whence all things stem…
And there I found no malice left, ‘twixt angels and devils.
Man alone defines with hatred, as did the deities of yore,
Who exiled we whom they understood not, seeing ills…
Where there was merely a desire, for liberty, once more.
The Gate of Ganzir waits to this day, in its’ hidden realm,
Unseen save by those with the sight, unhindered to flow,
Beyond the ken of mortals: who know not the true ways.
Only illumination can open the paths above and below…
Light beyond the moon and sun, with more blinding rays.

So, you say you are a Satanist?
 
Hey, I know what you are
sitting there trying to act coy
playing with the darkness
and you think it's fucking cool
well let me tell you something
about what you're trying to do
it's a fucking phase
serving only your own pretentious ego
serving under the shadow of a "Dark Lord"
you look like a fool
pretending to be mysterious
with your five dollar piece of crap pentagram
go ahead and make believe that you're worthy
sipping cranberry juice under the guise of blood
out of a plastic dollar store goblet
pretending you have the balls
to carry out unspeakable deeds
bringing the dark one's fury to Earth
You wouldn't know Hell if it fucked you bloody
And I'd bet you'd scream all the same
as you end up gutted, for some idiotic display
Will you think there is pleasure in pain
when you're on your knees
begging for the mercy of a figment of your imagination
that would sooner skin and rape you
than raise you up to sit beside him
in the festering, burning bowels of the deep?
This pathetic belief is only a testimony
to your narcissistic flattery of of self
gazing in a mirror in admiration
as you paint your lips black like decay
I bet this will be a fun play date
you and all the rest of your moronic friends
putting on Mommy's makeup so the world will know
just how truly dark your soul claims to be
Why don't you gather around your "blood" sacrifice
how long did it take you to find that piece of roadkill anyways?
Post-mortem doesn't bleed
But you got your Koolaid ready, right?
 

Great poems everybody. Keep up the good work. Forest's Embrace!

Jessica Ashton, applause to you ;)