The Peaceful; The Hateful

by Occult Fan

cointoss away from victory

what have you left but death or glory?

and when the sandman’s damn’d

last count of viscounts and beets

and cabbages and kings


some of the meager vehement bilge

others bulger debase and bend

far apart their own death warrant

from them is but not; on top

salvage sadists from their sanctimonious


reciprocation of the dark divide


and hear the holy tones of ones who worship

the triple goddess and the god divine


signs of mystery

legendary syzygy

the archetypes of

all mankind

the whole epitome

one human family

still we speak

as wine on the vine


hurry not

still clime

we find

treasure where we weren’t

inclined to drive


but now we are

stronger and high

and we are the

power of all-might