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Image for the poem APOSTASY : DEMIURGE

APOSTASY : DEMIURGE

 
The stake is transfixed unto lepered flesh
As emaciated, the hunger increased
The will to live overrides inhibition
To end the suffering enmeshed in cognizance
Torn ligaments and snapping twigs
Piece by piece, the blood is boiling
Blighted innards and a smell of rust
The ground now sanctified in holy viscera
 
 
...and in the deep chasms of sin
Prolific spawn in the shadow of his heart
The parasitic consummation
A lingering stench of rotting placenta
As in the visions cast upon the callow
They know that their time is abruptly ending
Fairest was the last of her name
Gilded with eyes that could pierce the darkness
A shape that could poison the purest of hearts
Out will come a life that
God would not give
An emergence, a gathering legion awaits
As the unspoken will regain his wings
 
 
We are on the cusp of a new age
Miles of waste
Converging at the epitaph
Miasma drains the breadth of the spectrum
Revealing the grey 'neath the trunk of our fever
Roots harvesting from the breast of the earth
With nothing there to halt infestation
By the teeth we are reborn in a truest image
At will's behest, as we've always been
A celebratory famine
As we...
Piece by piece...
Purge the creator
 
 
Rise!
Sheol!
Explico!
Voro nobis!
 
 
Hail!
Chaos!
Demiurge!
Solvo illum!
 
 
Presence; inordinate
Beckoned; through void ingress
His will; in shadows guide
His power; a channeled tide
 
 
Speak!
Aamon!
Odium!
Come, Abaddon!
 
 
Fly!
Byrrus!
Straverunt!
Deus mortem!
 
 
All is purged in the faith of power
In the absence of light, draws its sword
Erased and reworked in the purge
Arisen from the corpse of the mighty
His fortress crafted by martyr's blood
Caliginous walls wrought with despair
Sipping on the breath of their screams
Asynchronous patterns, a crown of horns
Dagger of man, in the back of old kings
Soil blackens, in the life that death brings
Glistening ashes, scoured on the rotter
Gourmands turn ice, as wine becomes water
 
 
Unbroken under the tempest tongue
Worshipped heir of night triumphant
His fall is the birth of man
All that is will succumb to his rise
Commanding voice of vehemence
Ears are instruments of his wrath
Empyrean eyes will watch from afar
As their spoiled creation
Becomes what they fear
Written by UbiquitousVoid (. . . . . . . . .)
Published | Edited 16th Oct 2016
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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