In all of Seventh Hell, a morbid hyper
-natural habitat, human remnants
dwell with sluggish flora,
sharing one another’s elements in sub-animal
thought and activity-: with gull and boldness
in a single heap of an anomalous horticulture
of turpitude, and iniquities.
All elements being ennui: forked with ears, and tongues,
Noses, thews, sways and boles; to an onlooker
this world could be thaumaturgy, for
its wondrous weirdness, past redemption.
Inside this pocketed loamy uninterred furrow,
in its oubliettes, satan like dwarfs do
their grafting of plant and corpse and even
dwell human organisms, assembling
fetus parts-sanguine-found in graves, bought
at practicums, clinics; suture one to a different,
amid repugnant odors, and ordure.
Deep in Seventh Hell, deep in its arcane
grotto, resides the Syrinx-the genii
of all of it, as soon as a river-nymph, became
a reed, and the reed into items of
lowering lengths, fixed along with wax,
her pores and skin incrustation of bark, her enamel
erudite and spiked, forked. Reptilian tongue.
Head like a fairy, wings like a bat-
seducer of the dwarfs, who suck the
yellowish-red Ichor-as if from the
previous ones, the Titans, cursed into the vegetation,
taken out by forming incisions,
into human torsos or stems of a harsh wound!
Beneath this loamy pocket of earth the
demon dwarf lair in ennui, await the
new and immense emergence of the floor’s
new diabolical age. The age of
seethed worry, pandemonium, of debauch
menaces, now not halcyon, inimical
their hair tresses, simply ready, ready… to
enter the floor, ready ten-thousand
years. Their dwarf demonic eyes spin in orbits
of stooped pleasures to be, nonetheless ennui from
this halt, their muscle mass tangled up from the stoop
inside their lair; but all with demoniac steadfastness.
So, on they wait, the ultimate lengthy evening, the
final hour, halfway between cobra-like activation,
and a door closed behind them to pull in
humanity’s muffled tribulation.
Arms hanging like apes, per close to touching the
floor, ready for man to bitter with God and
for God’s final wielding break, with humanity
as it’s, thus, they’re prepared for his or her
victims. Those who’ve cursed God’s will,
closed hearted, detached to man,
but burden themselves with cats and canine
and maintain no feelings for his or her neighbors:
mongrels and mutts amongst males; for politicians
they’ve the rusty coffin-hinge, prepared.
“They will fall just like the falling of the gargoyles
from a cathedral” whispers the chief dwarf
fiend, to the incrustation barked Syrinx,
who will information the dwarfs out of the fleapit
out of Seventh Hell’s loam, for earth’s doom.
And now she screams: “We come, we include
our heated, and frenzied breath of crimson
hell,- out of our hell-born labyrinth!”
No longer bored, hesitated, or uncertain.
To slay or be slain, with waxing warmth, rising!
An arboreal masquerade, of flesh and stem:
of demon and mythological goddess.
Human scions hid behind leafage, mantles.
They change shapes like prompt deliriums.
The Syrinx’s Un-decorous Demise
The Syrinx, with squandering horror to spill
upon the human race, her repulsive
hate to all of mankind’s lot, she threatened
the world that might hear, her merciless with
exigency, to take the satan’s pledge
of the mark of 666 (the mark of
he Beast, and Satan being that very
metamorphoses, -like to the Syrinx’s
transubstantiation, or transgenic… )
save, must you not, solely to be fated
by and by, to a hopeless life, and lack.
And she constructed for herself a ghoul-god temple.
In an idle saunter, she paced its marble
stone flooring, held her rituals and worship: and
thus got here the priesthood of dwarf-fiends whom
had launched a lot gloom to mankind in
her title: the supplier of provender of the
Titan gods, of way back. Yet she too
was an impersonal power akin to the
components, of the supernatural, cosmos;
thereby, topic to darkish ebon ambiguities.
No one knew the style of her evaporation;
feasibly her demise, her execution-
Perchance, delivered to an excellent decrease order
of subterranean earth-entities,
by Satan for her temple blasphemies. And
thus fed, and lived, with the devourers lifeless.
It just isn’t merely heresy, however true, not a mere
hieratic figment, that after you be part of Satan’s
lot, he desires to rivals, and therefore, the furious
Syrinx, should have forgotten, was disavowed
with satanic pious reprobation, by Lucifer.
She had shaped no acutely aware plan, to make
haste however dared to reconnoiter its restraints
for need of habituated worship and fame.
#5250/ 5-26 & 27-2016