Rise Of The Pentagram

One dark afternoon like a shadow I flew
through the rain that fell sick with lament
to this house of incest, for when we undressed,
blasphemies against Venus were rent.

Though her sister removed, her white body
approved the barade of my heavenly quests.
Yet all tongues are not true, some are forked
or askew like an uncivil serpent's at best.

For ousted from Eden I fausted all reason,
hook in mouth like Saint Peter Pan.
To horned fairy groves and hot virgin coves
where in the promiscuous swam.

I elected lovers and rejected others,
Mathistrises that don't give a damn.
But for those that still do
my deep interest grew.

The rise of the true pentagram!