Turning Point


Prepare those magical mystic rites.
We look away from the holy heights
and offer worship to the darkest lord
of all untold, of a kingdom below.

Lucifer lives, yet plays with death.
Head of horns, blackened breast.
A toast of blood, passed round the ring.
Together as one, to the devil we sing.

The altar draped in sheer red silk.
With two black candles, a silver sword.
An unholy effigy, marked and maimed.
Our faces painted, our souls unashamed.

Then a curse is aimed from heavens high.
Judgment brought, retribution nigh.
Entombed in hell, through fire we burn.
No help from hades. We live and learn!

1972, April

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s