On Sunday, April 12, 2015 at 12:16:41 PM UTC-4, Michael Pendragon wrote:
> I was considering writing a poem a day again this April, but so far have only written one. One of my socks posted it in the Pig Pen, but just can't seem to work up enough interest in any of the poetry posted there to participate in the discussions. Darned old socks. So just to clear up any confusion over the poem's authorship, here's my latest piece (NOTE: in this case the speaker/topic is definitely the author):
>
> THE DEVIL'S SCRIBE
>
>
> With black-plumed quill to fashion blacker verse
> The Devil's scribe sets Hell-born thought to flight
> To some a curse, to others sheer delight
> A dark Enchanter's spell, a Sandman's purse
> Of nightmare visions pilfered from the moon,
> Or blue-gray phantoms glimpsed in age's eye
> That walk the empty halls of childhood homes
> With cobweb feet and caterpillar sigh
> And wisdom culled from time-forgotten tomes --
> Each verse, each line, each word a witching rune.
>
> No bardic lute or gypsy mandolin
> Attends his spindled lyrics as they fly
> On ghostly fingers through the unquiet sky
> To pierce the inner eye where dreams begin
> In rabbit screams when met with nightbird claw,
> Or savage drums that ancient urges stir
> Within the throbbing breast of one who sates
> His passion's thirst on opaline liqueur
> Spilled from Venusian lip, who penetrates
> Forbidden lands where angels stand in awe.
>
> With all the cobbled pride of battle scars
> They ride the nightwind, wild and unafraid
> Immortal hellfires blazing unallayed
> To burn the firmament like rebel stars!
> In warlike measure march on Heaven's throne
> Where constellated heroes lie enshrined
> On battlefields where greater heroes fell,
> Storm walls with verbal cannonballs designed
> To soar above the parapets and quell
> The bravest hearts with war cries wrought from stone.
>
> Alone, his pen sets unnamed demons free
> Damns priests, bedevils cats, bedazzles kings
> Unleashes imps and all the wicked things
> That dwell beneath the bottom of the sea
> Or in those hidden realms where angels fall
> And elohim move on the face of night
> Destroying worlds in holocausts of fire,
> Till dreams, like giant wicker men, ignite
> As old and young succumb to blood's desire
> Take heed! and hasten to the Devil's call.

On Thursday, February 23, 2023 at 9:40:33 AM UTC-5, Coco DeSockmonkey wrote:
> On Sunday, April 12, 2015 at 12:16:41 PM UTC-4, Michael Pendragon wrote:
> > I was considering writing a poem a day again this April, but so far have only written one. One of my socks posted it in the Pig Pen, but just can't seem to work up enough interest in any of the poetry posted there to participate in the discussions. Darned old socks. So just to clear up any confusion over the poem's authorship, here's my latest piece (NOTE: in this case the speaker/topic is definitely the author):
> >
> > THE DEVIL'S SCRIBE
> >
> >
> > With black-plumed quill to fashion blacker verse
> > The Devil's scribe sets Hell-born thought to flight
> > To some a curse, to others sheer delight
> > A dark Enchanter's spell, a Sandman's purse
> > Of nightmare visions pilfered from the moon,
> > Or blue-gray phantoms glimpsed in age's eye
> > That walk the empty halls of childhood homes
> > With cobweb feet and caterpillar sigh
> > And wisdom culled from time-forgotten tomes --
> > Each verse, each line, each word a witching rune.
> >
> > No bardic lute or gypsy mandolin
> > Attends his spindled lyrics as they fly
> > On ghostly fingers through the unquiet sky
> > To pierce the inner eye where dreams begin
> > In rabbit screams when met with nightbird claw,
> > Or savage drums that ancient urges stir
> > Within the throbbing breast of one who sates
> > His passion's thirst on opaline liqueur
> > Spilled from Venusian lip, who penetrates
> > Forbidden lands where angels stand in awe.
> >
> > With all the cobbled pride of battle scars
> > They ride the nightwind, wild and unafraid
> > Immortal hellfires blazing unallayed
> > To burn the firmament like rebel stars!
> > In warlike measure march on Heaven's throne
> > Where constellated heroes lie enshrined
> > On battlefields where greater heroes fell,
> > Storm walls with verbal cannonballs designed
> > To soar above the parapets and quell
> > The bravest hearts with war cries wrought from stone.
> >
> > Alone, his pen sets unnamed demons free
> > Damns priests, bedevils cats, bedazzles kings
> > Unleashes imps and all the wicked things
> > That dwell beneath the bottom of the sea
> > Or in those hidden realms where angels fall
> > And elohim move on the face of night
> > Destroying worlds in holocausts of fire,
> > Till dreams, like giant wicker men, ignite
> > As old and young succumb to blood's desire
> > Take heed! and hasten to the Devil's call.

It sounds a bit Satanic to me.