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Psalm Of She

This one of my few rare love poems. More so than that, this a Hymn to my Goddess, my Scarlet Woman, and together we are the Yab-Yum; the Shiva-Shakti.

My wife has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me. To their is no discrimination between her, and my Goddess.

Psalm Of She

Hotter than the radiance of 10,000 Suns,

With eyes more resplendent than Venus,

No perfection, can be greater than she

Mere myth in flesh, to ride upon mine.

The original archetype, of every Goddess

Who is the embodiment, of Beauty, of Love

Hollow little words, ever-fail us to describe

The sight of She; less-fathomable than God.

No equation, no wealth, treasure or value

Could ever equate, compare, nor surpass

Even 0.01% of the supernal transcendence,

That always, has been, always will be; She.

Featured

The Requisition

This poem was written for the title track of an album I recorded about a year ago.

My xenophobia for Death,
Is understood now,
Is now but a requisite,
A prayer, for such
The philanthropist has been beaten,
Except not to a pulp,
But a sociopath,
With an underlying potential,
Even thirst, for violence.

Years of anesthesia,
Has numbed all but pain,
A broken machine, I am
Wherein my hatred is industrial,
Jesus wept,
My only prayer, is that he suffers more
Opposites attract,
So I, I may only hate him.

Spoken Word Video of Naloxone Resurrection

I’m going to be posting videos of me reading my lyrics/poetry on both TikTok and YouTube. My handle on both is @tantriknihilist108. If you like my content and could bless me, please follow me on either or both. Doing music on there as well. Thanks, and cheers! 🙏 93 93/93 ♥️

The Golden Chain

If you acquire a chain,

Of precious metals…

Mined from the Earth,

and wear it around your neck,

Only to find out, that

it’s fake,

So,

You swap one link,

For that made of gold,

is it still not a fake a chain?

Still, you don’t see, the green ,tarnish, around your neck.

Caltrops – Samsara EP Lyrics

Molested By Life

Verse One

Fuck this world, that leaves us forlorn

Here I am sitting, regretting being born

Chorus

Pure misanthropy and hate,

More misanthropy and hate,

Verse Two

Molested by life, only fed shit

My hymen bleeds, my asshole is ripped!

Chorus

Pure misanthropy and hate,

More misanthropy and hate,

Samsara

Verse One

All this fucking pain,

Make it go away!

Chorus

This life, in which we dwell, a pure living hell, the future, I can tell, Armageddon by bombshell

A systematic machine, running on our misery, where we all die, in wage, slavery

Verse Two

Third-world suffering,

First-degree misanthropy!

Chorus

This life, in which we dwell, a pure living hell, the future, I can tell, Armageddon by bombshell

A systematic machine, running on our misery, where we all die, in wage, slavery

Outro

On and on it goes, on and on it goes!

On and on it goes! On and on it goes…

Hymn To Nuit

To Wilt

Ideologues seeded from self-insistent, self-evident data presented as proof

Are only such to the self, and to the disciple adherent, kindred, and stemming thereof

Beliefs, and fundamentalisms, are tainted by external harmony needed to blossom

Referencing purity, thriving on sameness is to tread in a cyclic xenophobia,

This will surely wilt our roots.

The Sad Clown

Everyday I paint a smile,
Over this frown,
Only to have cried it off,
By the Sun’s going down,

Tying my shoes together,
For your sick pleasure,
Tripping on over-sized leather,
My expense, at your leisure

An entire life on the tight-rope,
Another squirt of seltzer in the eye,
Finally under this big top,
You laugh, I fall, I die.

Tying my shoes together,
For your sick pleasure,
Tripping on over-sized leather,
My expense, at your leisure

The Preta

Note: Preta (Sanskrit: प्रेत, Standard Tibetan: ཡི་དྭགས་ yi dags), also known as hungry ghost, is the Sanskrit name for a type of supernatural being described in Hinduism, Buddhism, Taoism, and Chinese folk religion as undergoing sufferinggreater than that of humans, particularly an extreme level of hunger and thirst.

Pretas are invisible to the human eye, but some believe they can be discerned by humans in certain mental states. They are described as human-like, but with sunken, mummified skin, narrow limbs, enormously distended bellies and long, thin necks. This appearance is a metaphor for their mental situation: they have enormous appetites, signified by their gigantic bellies, but a very limited ability to satisfy those appetites, symbolized by their slender necks.

The Preta

Wished I believed in a Heaven or Hell,
Wished I believed in a God or a Devil,
Wished I believed in you or me,
Wished I believed in something,
Besides this Nothing.

Wished I believed there were still someone in here,
Wished I believed that I wasn’t a walking corpse,
Wished I believed in my own resurrection,
Wished I believed in redeeming my crucifixion,
But there’s only Stigmata.

Wished I believed, but I never did
Now my heart beats within my carnal grave.

You see here a body, but not a man.

Just a starving soul, with a pin-hole mouth.

Paying for past-life sins, I never lived.

Suffering the wounds, the dead have left for me.

Starving with a hunger, that’s now my own
I kill myself, only to be born again,
Again, and again…

My Poem About Sexism Featured In South Broadway Ghost Society

This is actually from a couple years ago. Pre-existent to my having a blog on here, so I thought I’d share. This one was written when I was about 20/21 is so. So it’s older for sure.

https://soboghoso.org/2020/03/26/sexualitatis/

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