Sekhmet's Child

I was born in a cemetery
Underneath a full red moon.
To rule the Earth, I sprang alive
From my mother's maggot-infested womb.

Her blood turned to sand,
And she fell over dead.
Thus, raised from the grave, I
By the mighty Sekhmet.

I brought with me a season
Of woeful distress and ancient darkness;
Taught to rule with wicked wrath,
Festering fear, and savage sickness.

I imbibe brackish bile
From deep springs of unknown origin
And dine on the sweet, soft flesh
Of unholy sacrificed virgins.

I tread easily upon
A path of writhing serpents.
For this,
I shall never repent.

And I sleep fitfully upon
A bed of pulsing black widows,
A fiendish collection of
Disemboweled organs my pillows.

I bathe naked in
A bubbling cauldron of molten flesh
From the disinterred corpses
Of a freshly exhumed parish.

I wash my hands in the blood
Of dissected newborns and crucified priests.
Upon their disgorged vomitus,
I have a gluttonous feast.

I breathe the stale air
Of the rotting dead
And make chalices
Of their eviscerated heads.

I set sail upon the sea of abscised pus,
The shore littered full
With man's shattered,
Tiny, fragile skulls.

Man is cursed to wallow suffering
Forever in leech-filled cess
And to see his unborn children
Stewed by my dark caress.

In a land of miserable wretchedness
And black despair,
Scorpions sting man's lungs;
He chokes on bloody air.

Vultures rise from shadows
In ashen rain
To rip open virgins
And pierce them with pain.

With grim fury do rabid rats
Upon ulcerating boils feast.
Bloody tears blind
Visions of the East.

Dying man crawls
At my furious doom.
I heed not his call
But smite him from my room.

I feast ravenously on
The decaying carcasses of those
Who wish to save me.
(Though from what I do not know.)

For my body stands as a monolithic reminder of terror
To those who dare try to cross me,
Dare try to question me,
And above all dare try to proselytize me.

So don't read to me from your infernal book
Or hold your futile mass.
I'll take that splinter of sacred wood
And shove it deep in your fuckin' ass.

---

Originally written:    November 26, 2000
Put online:    March 18, 2001
Discussion:    Sekhmet, for those interested, is another name for Satan. Overall, I think the poem is pretty much self-explanatory.


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