The Pentagram In the years of the Primal Cause, From the dawn of Terrestrial Birth, Man marched with

the Mammuthon horde, And Man was the lord of the Earth He made him a hollow skin from the heart of an holy tree, He encompassed the Earth therein, And Man was the lord of the Sea! He He He So controlled the vigorous fiends, harnessed the lightning for higher, drove the celestial beam, Man was the lord of the Fire!

Deep-mouthed, from their throne, deep-seated, the choirs of the aeons declare the last of the Demons defeated! For Man was the Lord of the Air! Arise, oh man in thy strength, The Kingdom is thine to inherit, 'Til the High Gods witness at length that Man is the lord of his Spirit! --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The Poet Bury me in a nameless grave. I came from God, the world to save. I brought them wisdom from above, worship and liberty and love. But they slew me, for I did disparage their thought, religion, law and marriage. So be my grave without a name, that earth may swallow up my shame. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------At Sea As night has stars more rare than ships in oceans, placed from pole to pole, so all the wonder of her lips incur innavigable soul. Such light she gives to guide my path, that I am am swallowed in her swell of her heart, so sagely dark. Controls my heaven, controls my hell. In her I live most my new dancing moments in the sun In her I die, but a sterile shoot of nightshade from oblivion. In her my self dissolves, a grain of salt cast careless in the sea, My passion purifies my pain to please her personality. God grant the years to confirm my prison, roam too [?]. Anointing love, a scourging tear, in the sanctifying solitude. Man is so infinitly small and all these stars determinate. Yet maker and moulder of them all,

Man is so infinitely great! --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The Titanic Down crashed the serpents brittle steel, In summer sparks of mans demise. Down crashed, upon an immobile, brainless barrier, ice. Courage! May Gods shoot their laughing lip, Let not fate founder with the ship. We reel before the blows of fate, Our stout souls stagger at the shock. Oh, there is something ultimate which sparks over the living rock. Courage! Catastrophe beyond belief, Harden our hearts with fear of the debris. The Gods and the Titans showered their high, intolerable scorn. But no God know it, in what hour, a new Prometheus may be born! Courage! Man is doomed to drag him down. A crown of thorns is still a crown! No hard nature can bark the spirit of mankind, It is not built upon a pen? It is not washed to the wind? Courage! Disaster and destruction came before our triumph in the end! --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Fingernails My fingernails grow on my fingers. And my fingers are fixed firmly to my hand. It is my hand that terminates my arm, and that's fixed to my shoulder like a charm. My shoulder is a portion of my pelvis I hope no prostitute however adroit would end this shocking sequence. Yet we find even in England men of evil mind, pornographers who love of fiendy tales, (and are) shameless enough to mention fingernails.