Author: Ash

Devil’s Doppleganger

I remember a devil who once hung from a bodhi tree. Skinny, skimpy little bag of bones. He wore his scales and slithered on his belly; his long, slimy forked tongue dripping venom and empty lies. Then one day the devil planted a seed; and in wicked glee he watched it grow. There he sat by his twisted tree, nursing his twisted hate… And I had to leave that god forsaken place for vileness had seeped into the earth and poisoned all the rivers. In the end the land was filled with all his minions the way phantoms filled the sky and all that was left to do was raze Eden to the ground. I swear I saw the devil’s face on Earth tonight!! The beast was here all...

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What is the purpose of fasting, if impurities are lodged so deep within the heart and soul… That we judge each other by our own standards and whatever flaws we see so clearly in others, are but reflections of our own imperfections? The beast was here all...

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Tribal bull… I asked my muse for another tale of how the Bull King fought the mighty lion… Of the legendary brawl between the will and the pride… And how the strong may one day fall. … Pity him, this fallen chief, All his spendour, all his strength, All his body’ breadth and length, Dwindled down with shame and grief, Half the bull he was before, Bones and leather, nothing more. See him standing dewlap-deep, In the rushes at the lake, Surly, stupid, half asleep, Waiting for his heart to break, And the birds to join the flies, Feasting at his bloodshot eyes, — Standing with his head hung down, In a stupor dreaming things: Green savannas, jungles brown, Battlefields and bellowings, Bulls undone and lions dead, And vultures flapping overhead… Ralph Hodgson The beast was here all...

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Of the 7 deadly sins known to man, I choose to wear the mask of Wrath tonight. I know how this travesty will end before it has even begun. For fairness sake, let’s just pretend I do not know… That you may play the son of Iscariot, lying in wait for the perfect moment… To plant the kiss of a viper on the unwary cheek. And when the parody has played itself out to the end, I’ll watch your corpse swinging from a tree by the break of dawn. The beast was here all...

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Old Soul

I found a scripture written in ancient lore, the words jumped from the page the way a fish catches its prey. Looked at my muse…. I asked in dismay, “Who thinks up stuff like that???!!!” Its like when Freud said, “Everywhere I go I find a poet has been there before me.” My muse tonight, he built a fire and said, “…Let us talk philosophy, While the roast is on the spit. That moonlit thing which wavers there, what have we to do with it?…” Sure… Let’s pretend we are fellow travelers in cyberspace. Forget the rum.. “Give me to drink Mandragora…” The beast was here all...

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