Group Houg.

Group Hug.

Today I’ll write a happy poem,
Where no one needs to die,
I’ll write instead about sunshine,
And birds in a clear blue sky.

I’ll write about the nice things,
I’ll be nice about all folk,
Everything is wonderful,
We can all laugh and joke.

I don’t mind if you’re Christian,
I don’t mind if you’re a Jew,
Even if you’re a Muslin,
I don’t hate you. (smiles)

I don’t mind if you’re stupid,
I don’t mind that you stink,
I’ve given my desire to kill you all,
A great big rethink.

Please come around mine for supper,
Please visit me for tea,
I promise I won’t kill you,
I won’t hack away with glee.

I think it’s great that you’ve had another child,
Although you’re so very dumb,
The world needs thousands of folk like you,
Who won’t ever pay a crumb.

Oh love is in my heart today,
Oh love is a wonderful chase,
I no longer need to take my axe,
And plough it into your face.

So lets have a great big group hug,
And let’s all raise our glasses,
Before I slam the oven door shut,
AND BURN YOUR WORTHLESS ASSES!

Soap and Mirrors.

Illusions follow all around,
As echoes of the real.
Law grasping morals freely,
Sinking into trampled hearts.
Through trampled parts we roam.
These trampled hearts can feel like home.

With soap and mirrors will we wash,
Away the twisted reflection,
Of lack of natural selection.
When nature was denied.
Justice lay down and died.
Who are we to argue?

Darwin sadly left this land,
And with him liberty’s sword.
A guilt edged blade in its place,
Washed clean with holy pious grace,
Cleaving grass to just one level.
Who are we to argue?

Mirrored lives are joy to most,
Reflected glory tempts the weak.
As a tear rolls down freedom’s cheek,
Who are we to argue?

Satan's Offer.

Here is a secret
that is really not.
Slavery's an option
that's what you got.

There is something
more for you.
I have it now
You can have it too.

No dying man
to bow before.
No sensless praying
to a 'virgin' whore.

There's no admission
or dipping pools.
No fancy buildings
full of fools.

There is no God
or angelic mass.
There is no heaven
for which to pass.

So what must you do
to have this way.
And how much tithe
should you pay?

Oh silly slaves
Its always free.
Your eyes are covered
so you can't see.

Just leave behind
Your chain & ball.
Don't look back
and enjoy the fall.

Z

As daylight slowly fades away
Her scent rises into the air
Drifting out on the winds of Hell
Bringing with it deep despair

My fear multiplies, uncontrolled
Enticing her to arise
Waking from a sleep of death
Dominance burns in her eyes

Within my dreams she comes to me
A purveyor of endless night
Tempting me to depart with her
To new worlds absent of light

I try try to resist, but cannot fight
Like poison, she seeps through my skin
Releasing long buried passions
And the nightmares that lurk within

Falling into her blackened realms
She guides me through her madness
Where the spirits of those who've come before
Cry out in horror and sadness

She knows the things I don't want known
And exploits any weakness she finds
Trapped in webs spun from her malice
She slithers deeper into my mind

Her stare alone sears through the brain
Conjuring forth my insanity
She sings of love that's long since died
Consumed by waves of agony

I plead with her to end this game
As unimagined sights greet my eyes
Her deep and cold sepuchral voice
Promises more misery and lies

At last I kneel down at her feet
Every piece of my will torn apart
Upon my soul she starts to feed
Forever she possesses my heart

The Dark Hunter

I like to peep in through your window,
During the darkest dead of night.
To watch you tucked up snug in bed,
I truly love the sight.

During the day you walk right past me,
You never smile or return my ‘hello,’
But nighttime will be here so soon,
To shroud the little secrets only I know.

Last night I climbed in through your window,
And crept around your place,
I moved a couple of your things around,
I carefully touched your face.

Tonight I will return to you,
While you’re warm and safe in bed,
I’ll spend a little time deep inside of you,
But I’ll forever be in your head.

Gods Autobiography

When I was born, it was in a book
Nobody knew my name or how I looked
But they all knew I felt nothing but love
And I’d watch them from my kingdom up above
They even took one of their own and named him my son
When he was born is when time began
If anything happens, it’s cause of me Oh Well
And if I don’t like you then you’re going to hell
Over the years they think they’ve proved me
By showing all the people who died or talked to me
No matter what happens
They think proof lies in nails through the wrists
It’s getting me pissed
But I’m not really saying this
Cause I don’t exist…

This is to the female who e-mails me.

This is to the female who e-mails me with almost impossible sexual demands and then becomes angry and aggressive when I don't answer.


The demands of which you ask sound good,
But I just don't think my body could,

Serve you in the manner, of which you ask,
It just seems like such a massive task…

I've even considered all the positions you suggest,
And even made note of the ones you like best,

And I'm sure that last one would keep me fit,
But should I slip then I'm in deep shit.

…and you have a big arse.

I loved that photo of you in the bask,
But I have to pluck up courage to ask,

Maybe if you should wear a fuckin' mask,
Then I might just be up for the fuckin' task.

But let me be honest, I do find you scary,
I've never seen a girl with arms so hairy.

And your knuckles they appear all rough, scratched and sore,
But I guess this is because they drag on the floor.

Well at least with you I wouldn't need to pace,
To stop myself coming I simply glance at your face.

But my penis it would shrivel to the size of a maggot,
And you'd insult me and swear and call me a fagot!

You asked me once if I found you eye-catching,
And I answered that it might help if both eyes were matching.

And it might just help if you have a snip,
To stop your nose reaching your lower lip.

You said in your last mail that you'd 69 me,
Then ride me and screw me and finally blow me.

And although the thought has my little heart beating,
You can still forget us ever meeting!!

How to be a rock star!

Living in a house with other people often means that they may be watching television while you do other things. If there is one thing I like the least about the tube, it is reality shows. I will admit that there has been one exception: Gene Simmons: Family Jewels. I have noticed that there are qualities about him that I heartily approve of. In fact, if followed carefully, anyone can be a rock star…or just act like one…even if only in his or her mind. So, pay your tuition, buy your books and get on the bus. This is the Gene Simmons School of How to be a Rock Star: Minus Shannon Tweed. School's in session.

You may have noticed…Gene Simmons is butt ugly. Yet, he has successfully, if he is telling even half the truth, bedded thousands of women. He is now enjoying unwedded bliss with the queen of soft-core porn herself, Shannon Tweed. How does he do this? Easy…Gene Simmons knows that he is the sexiest thing on the planet. What happens when a butt ugly man truly believes that he is the sexiest thing on the planet? He becomes sexy. His opinion of himself is so strong and unquestioned, that he effects how everyone else sees him. Gentlemen, looks are not important. Self-confidence is. We quite literally project a view of ourselves that others see. If you really want to be irresistible, convince yourself first. If you can delude…I mean enlighten yourself, the rest is cake. The truth is, the vast majority of people are so concerned with how others see them that they will accept the image you project.

The other side of Gene's many conquests coin is that he sees every woman as beautiful. If you ask him if he has ever seen an ugly woman, he will say "no".

The demon bat from Hell is also unabashedly materialistic. He uses his greed. He realizes that there is absolutely no reason anyone should be ashamed of his or her success. The herd has never learned this. Charity organizations grow fat off of the guilty fat of the land. It is ingrained into society that the love of money is the root of evil. It is not. If you have earned the chicken, you are the only one who has the right to eat it down to the bone.

Gene also knows that the life of the rock star is best enjoyed in one's right mind. He does not drink. He has never used recreational drugs, to the best of my limited knowledge. He does not smoke. Yes, I enjoy the voice of Ozzy Osbourne; but, I was often ashamed to be of the same species with someone who tried to find out how much shit he could pack into his body, and still doter on. The spoils can only be enjoyed if you are around long enough to enjoy them.

I have also noticed that Mr. Simmons surrounds himself with people who love him. I am going to make a statement that may, or may not, go over well. The Satanic life requires a solid foundation. Whether we consider ourselves social or not, we all have our own unique needs. If your foundation is solid without a love interest, this may not apply to you. But if not…and I readily confess that I am one who has that need, we do well to keep those meaningful relationships close. There are times I find compromise beneficial in meeting my needs and desires. Stubbornness will assure the only dates I get are with Hanna and her five sisters. That does not even consider my emotional needs. On the other hand, there have been relationships in which I was lonelier when I was with the person than not. It was better when I cut those off, and spent quality time in solitude. But still, I found the occasional camaraderie to be beneficial. It was up to me to see those needs met.

The bass player for Kiss is, above all else, a master at selling himself. I grew up listening to him. I still listen to him. I will probably always enjoy listening to Kiss. Guess what? Their music is mediocre, at best. But he turns it into one big party. He is selling an image. Gene Simmons may be, either knowingly, or unknowingly, one of the greatest magicians I have ever witnessed. A man takes inferior music, cheesy stage antics and a big ass bag of "I know exactly what I want, and I am willing to do whatever it takes to get it", and you have a great success story. Pure magic…a true rock star. The power of mental, emotional and physical focus is great. The ability to stay the course is key. Those qualities can turn anyone into a rock star, or to feel like one.

Now…I cannot promise that you will end up with a babe as hot as Shannon; but there is a lot to learn about the power confidence, sexuality and sobriety to be had.

Now…where did I put that Love Gun album?