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Orgiastic Blasphemy
- Orgiastic Blasphemy -
In the depths of the earth, from out where legends sprang of creation's birthing,
Upon an altar, carved from stone roughly fashioned, the place of red offering...
Can be touched by those initiated in mysteries that none untaught can recollect.
Slick with sweat, from pleasures forbidden, participated in by the mad faithful,
Celebrations of the flesh ensue beneath the gazes of tall, roughly crafted idols...
Which gaze down with empty eye sockets, from where they stand coldly erect.
In braziers burn tattered parchments on which is written blasphemous names...
Whilst, in my breast blazes hotter, the eldritch fury of unspeakably hot flames!
Two hours after midnight, in accord with the black text's precise instructions...
I add my blood to the magic, weaving sorcery with very precise constructions.
From out the darkness of the gloom, outside the view of candles' illumination,
The spirits of the dead emerge as bidden, to defy the dictates of divine creation.
The shadow rises, from out the endless chasms within my soul's hidden depth,
As I lay the ceremonial sword back upon the altar base, giving praise to Death.
My breath quickening as I prepare mind and boy to endure what the rite brings,
In necromancy forged from the coupling of pleasure and pain, as sweet sings...
She who is my partner in these sinister workings, who recites the words so fell!
Verses not meant to be uttered, save only by the most wicked royalties of Hell.
The young acolytes ring the sacred bell, to mark the proscribed hour of calling,
Whose hands etched unto the cavern floor, designs incomprehensibly appalling.
Falling unto the ground are the many whose passions have been spent orgiastic,
In the ancient ritual dances that leave those so engaged at a point most ecstatic.
I seek no knowledge at this time, this is more for my followers' to see sublime,
The dawning of an age not seen since before Atlantis fell in the ocean's brine!
I am the uncoiled serpent, I am the name that is not spoken in the holy places,
My will is the forbidden knowledge that stains the soul crimson with graces...
Bestowed by kisses, stolen in the places where light is coerced to look far off.
She with whom I coupled moments previous cries out that this is not enough,
And so I show her the delights reserved for those who have seen Hell's forms.
Our spirits, are immortal, defying the edict of decay that calls for the worms...
The heady incenses of dragon's blood and sandalwood, filling the air sweetly!
The dead look on, their visitation of our sacred place given a macabre dignity.
Names of demons and devils are uttered, by the brothers and sisters gathered,
Who have seen the light that exists when in the presence of all that mattered...
Before the first of mankind's ancestors walked upon the surface of this planet.
I knew them all in other forms, to which this ritual paid a subtle compliment!
More hours lay in wait before the dawn's first hues require the magic to end...
The sun being a predator that stalks the velvet hours which night deigns send.
Even as winter's cold ends the glory of the autumn that aids the mystic's will,
In the meantime, my wicked princess and I discover many a sinful new thrill!
Angels blush to see our deeds, and devils learn from us new ways to tempt...
Whilst in our hidden sanctum, she who is my harlot learns the secrets I kept.
In the depths of the earth, from out where legends sprang of creation's birthing,
Upon an altar, carved from stone roughly fashioned, the place of red offering...
Can be touched by those initiated in mysteries that none untaught can recollect.
Slick with sweat, from pleasures forbidden, participated in by the mad faithful,
Celebrations of the flesh ensue beneath the gazes of tall, roughly crafted idols...
Which gaze down with empty eye sockets, from where they stand coldly erect.
In braziers burn tattered parchments on which is written blasphemous names...
Whilst, in my breast blazes hotter, the eldritch fury of unspeakably hot flames!
Two hours after midnight, in accord with the black text's precise instructions...
I add my blood to the magic, weaving sorcery with very precise constructions.
From out the darkness of the gloom, outside the view of candles' illumination,
The spirits of the dead emerge as bidden, to defy the dictates of divine creation.
The shadow rises, from out the endless chasms within my soul's hidden depth,
As I lay the ceremonial sword back upon the altar base, giving praise to Death.
My breath quickening as I prepare mind and boy to endure what the rite brings,
In necromancy forged from the coupling of pleasure and pain, as sweet sings...
She who is my partner in these sinister workings, who recites the words so fell!
Verses not meant to be uttered, save only by the most wicked royalties of Hell.
The young acolytes ring the sacred bell, to mark the proscribed hour of calling,
Whose hands etched unto the cavern floor, designs incomprehensibly appalling.
Falling unto the ground are the many whose passions have been spent orgiastic,
In the ancient ritual dances that leave those so engaged at a point most ecstatic.
I seek no knowledge at this time, this is more for my followers' to see sublime,
The dawning of an age not seen since before Atlantis fell in the ocean's brine!
I am the uncoiled serpent, I am the name that is not spoken in the holy places,
My will is the forbidden knowledge that stains the soul crimson with graces...
Bestowed by kisses, stolen in the places where light is coerced to look far off.
She with whom I coupled moments previous cries out that this is not enough,
And so I show her the delights reserved for those who have seen Hell's forms.
Our spirits, are immortal, defying the edict of decay that calls for the worms...
The heady incenses of dragon's blood and sandalwood, filling the air sweetly!
The dead look on, their visitation of our sacred place given a macabre dignity.
Names of demons and devils are uttered, by the brothers and sisters gathered,
Who have seen the light that exists when in the presence of all that mattered...
Before the first of mankind's ancestors walked upon the surface of this planet.
I knew them all in other forms, to which this ritual paid a subtle compliment!
More hours lay in wait before the dawn's first hues require the magic to end...
The sun being a predator that stalks the velvet hours which night deigns send.
Even as winter's cold ends the glory of the autumn that aids the mystic's will,
In the meantime, my wicked princess and I discover many a sinful new thrill!
Angels blush to see our deeds, and devils learn from us new ways to tempt...
Whilst in our hidden sanctum, she who is my harlot learns the secrets I kept.
Published 5th Jun 2022
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