Mad Poet Of The Apocalypse  

My blood remembers the ice desert
The Clan of Blue Eyes
We rose from the land of longWinter
500 generations before the One-God
Lived and died and lived again
And from the sands some call Holy
Came the Clan of the Fish
Taking the Northlands
Laying seige to Asgard
Until even the AllFather
Was hidden away
In tales of Old Men and Mountains
Covering the spoken histories
Of the Clans Northlander
With a fine fabric of myth
That with time grew in density


The Clan of Blue Eyes 
And the longboat warrior
Lost the truth of their past
Forgot their sacred sites
Forgot the forces that birthed them 
Came to call Holy
The lands of the One God
This the arrow of my blood remembers


The price asked for the ritual candle
Must be the price offered
Haggling is not allowed within the Act
And Ritual commences
Upon crossing the shopkeeper's thresh-hold
With knowledge and intent


I acknowledge this candle's purpose
I accept that any harm
I may cause another
May thrice revisit me

So mote it be


The candle that burns for you, Emir
Is tallow obsidian
Solid midnight tipped yellow-blue
Candledance shadows
Fade from view
Only flame and ebon in my sight
My blackest malice for you this night


I agree, Emir
A binding
Even a Binding Malefic
Is not as affective as an assault rifle
Does not appear so surreal
As airliner punching through skyscraper
Does not satisfy 
Like a 5, 000 pounder scribbled with 
From NYC, nothin' but love for ya, bitch!


You attempt to conjure Jihad
By treachery and media event
I seek only your malaise
By candle's light and dark intent


All there is
Is you and me
Not CNN or MSNBC
Not for update
URGENTLY
Not even backpage newsworthy
All this does is satisfy something in me


I can live with that


I hope your life is long
Filled with toothaches and tumours
All that you know
Deemed heresay and rumour
I hope your grandest achievement
Leads to your greatest dissappointment
If ever you stumble to the realization
That hate destroys the without
By poisoning that within
I hope when you seek forgiveness
You will find nothing but shame
And loathing


I hope you live to sleep on streets
Filled with those who will not speak to you
Will not look at you
I hope children chase you with sticks 
And dogs growl as you pass

I wish that
When the Knowing comes to you
You are denied
By both Flesh and Spirit
And your name 
Struck from the Book
I hope your memory
Be struck from the blood of us all

A long life for you, oh holy warrior

So mote it be

 
10/22/2001
perris
chasaltvater