Belial hovers above the pit as an angel of enmity
his counsel forevermore
to bring sin and guilt upon man
twisted angel of fornication
presenting the vampyromorph phallus
mustard gas cloud nimbus of soot
bleeding into the open wounds
a syphilis of the soul,
vinegar of molestation
the black fumes of a rotten cadaver
molest the air when he appears
and disappears
flickering amongst the layers
controllant of scores of demons !
his army is the angels of rape and terrorism
allotted to him
to serve and protect
the arch crown of evil
a great troop of fiendish demons
spurting balls of fire from their mouths
torment the buttocks of twenty-six poor women
with flaming birch rods
while shoving shekels down their tortured throats
the three nets of Belial :
fornication,
wealth, and
pollution of the sanctuary
in the bottom of the pit
an archaic fossil cache
is kept : extinct taxa of demonology
now unleashed
Belial spreads his wings
to the sound of fuck and death
the human soul is sold forever
for the price of a whore
Uppsala's premier sewer-rat - the town's least prolific amateur wordsmith. poetry-attempts seeped in the historical, the mythical and the ever-so-human. A fiery follower of the 'Poete maudit' tradition. Apocalypticist and eschatological. Anti-modern. Decadent, spiritual, extreme, beautiful, dystopian, romantic. Personal, confessional, devotional. Everything posted = work in progress. This blog writes under the banner of, and in ever allegiance to, The End Commune (2012-2022; revived in 2025)
Wednesday, February 28, 2024
"BELIAL ABOVE THE PIT"
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