The Spawn Of Love And War

Poets racking absinthed brains
could never fully paint these nights,
no martyr parting from his pain
could utter words so erudite.

As those she now divulged to me
in the throes of passions grip,
indulging latent fantasies that
ran forked tongues along the lip.

Of fate's pudenda,
the twisted snake's agenta.
Now the world would bend
to her deadly legacy.

Life's graveyard was waiting, such dizzying
flight from the convent at All Hallows Fair.
Without contemplating, we fled through the night
too blood-drunk and cunt-sated to care.

The Goddess had spoken and awoken desire.
It crackled in the air around us,
a psychic force shimmering like fire.

And on her breasts, that old necklace,
the one I snuck from the fucked Abbess
whose dirty little secret, other than me,
now shone with bold intensity.

Vast the power it possessed,
the darkness brought
to living flesh.

This treasure was ancient,
taken by force from an elite
caste of priests in Delphi.

The Templars were patient,
they stayed out the course
then fleeced their Greek
hosts in their sleep.

That necklace traversed
vile murders and miles worse
but what was a curse to
this perverse Demoness?

Legend swore it was a gift of
malice for the maiden Harmonia,
the illegitimate spawn of love and war
jealousy made it gleam for her.

For with it clasped, her looking glass
was ever beautiful and young.
But disaster choked her royal caste
and every throat on which it hung
there madness, death and horror clung.

Immortalised in mortal guise
she was a sight for blighted eyes,
a plague to gladly plagiarise
and spread like red excited kisses.

She was more than me, more than words
could fulfil in the parlance of the Angels.
She cast a spell on every cell in my nobody,
she gave me back my tongue that she
might run it on herself.

She was Lilith, she was light,
I was but a parasite beckoned to
temptation in her velvet overtones.

Through frozen arches, dressed in white
she led me into paradise 'neath comets in
ovation like the Queen of Winter, throned.

Pleasures archetypal
then much rarer agonies,
I was a sworn disciple of her
whims and dark decrees.

In Europe's hair
her spies were everywhere,
a sylph amongst the filthy
rich and debonair.

Her greater plan,
all chaos and the fall of man,
for as she fed dark appetites
she bred her children there.

The spawn of love and war!
Presiding over Hellfire clubs,
Arch-masons and Agharta.

The spawn of love and war!
She rode the beast, her legs apart,
a blazing pyre starter.

Life's playground elated, such dizzying
sights and sensations ignited her grin,
as slaves celebrated her Satanic rites
we climbed up to Heaven in sin.

She came to me as she will come to you!
Intoxicating in her seduction
her siren sway, devastating Voodoo.

Voodoo...

Persistent, resistance is useless,
fool to this Goddess, in lust she's cruel.
Beyond any measure her pleasures will found
a perverted Eden on sacred ground.

Vast the power I caressed,
the darkness brought to vivid flesh.
And in it she now rules
a cowered universe.