The Knell that Boded True my Soul’s Doom

The Knell that Boded True my Soul’s Doom

Halt friend! See there through the city smog

That winter fogs in Paris thicken

That vision flit from club to taxi

Wrapped in furs of luxury

And speed off with fawning attendants

That round Her busied servility, due rank?

Well friend, I know Her as well as any can

That are smitten and are by glamour taken

And worn the barbed crown of lover

Her renown is etched in many scars

Hangs as banners on castle walls

Escutcheons chiselled with Her initial

That stab the heart of prince and rouge

Yes I knew Her well believe me, and behind Her chariot

Was chained as willing captive of Her Triumphs

A mind as rich as Hers draws followers

Soon become Her prisoners

Twas in Northern climes She walked

None know Her ancestry but guess

A lofty Lord sired this Lady

And Queenly warrioress of Hades

Knowing Leith’s cold shores and dank mirrors

She’s much renowned in many dark arts

As if Darling Sin were Her infant tutor

By Book and Bell was She learned

An acharya of many ancient scrolls

And psychodramas initiating slavery

I admit i crawled to be a sacrifice

And begged damnation if it made Her smile

Better still the scourge of Her wicked laughter

The knell that boded true my soul’s Doom

By electronic web, by internet i first glimpsed Her

And by some dark longing drawn

To meet this Lady of some known infamy

Who’s eyes did pierce even from afar

And made more radiant

The dull achromatic days of drones

And so i met first as client then as bonded acolyte

And was so inculcated with deep want of Her

And longed to kiss Her lavish hurts

And be a canvas for Her to paint with knives

And in a knot of cock cage and mind cage

Were my potencies tethered

My soul itself saddled for harsh rides

Friend, you may dispute my veracity

But gaze upon these serried brands

That mark my back where She has walked

And the Sanskrit runes here tattooed

And in my head Her constant incantations!

You did not see Her or witness that radiant persona

How daily at altar She dons

A mask of charismatic Beauty

The better to lure the cocksman to his fall

To snare the erotic fool

In long dalliance of mental torture

And i too took those steps seemed preordained

Was drawn to that fire beneath a smile of ice

Drawn by hypnotic wand and choral spell

By studied whispers that insinuate

By the rich apparel of enigmatic Beauty

Into that perverted labyrinth

Down cold stone steps hurried

The keys at Her waist as cold as She

And in narcotic drag triggered by Her verbal slaps

Was lowered to the ceremony of the dead

And under altar crawled through the birthing channels

To rebirth as blessed minion, yes one of the soul dispossessed!

But this journey of deepest lust after many years

Was broken by an accident and long recuperation

But i tell you friend, long in the ward did i toss

Her tranquillisers vying with theirs

And even now in this momentary meeting

Outside this alley club

Seeing Her hurry to Her carriage

With creatures at Her heels

Her wicked power returns in a frenzy

For i tell you friend, She will never leave me

A cellular addiction has She inculcated

There is no herb or balm to staunch the wound

For always Her afterimage, the erotic photogene

Like the aftersting after pleasure

In my brain left resonating like a hellish echo

This i call her spell

The long lingering vision of Her Beauty

And majestic terror – i dare not think on Her

But i’m broken and crawl again

And will walk to a chime of chains, the perfumed

Dungeon and boudoir of sin call

– my soul wings home to a wretched summons

To the Miztress of Tears is sent a witch’s morsel

Friend, i’m but a trinket adorns Her stinging wand.

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Her Holy Name

Her name is Miztress Sophie

Holy syllables much whispered

Grant i vouch Her all my devotion

And engrained in sacrifice

That rich name of fame

And Holy reverence is Her due

Our lamb natures follow

Where She decrees our manhood falls

At degradation mysterious altar

Her name is our shrine of weakness

And Her Power with great increase

In daily prayer She’s consecrated

Our sweet misery is a hallowed sacrifice

Blessed spells of psychic power

Chain us to Her hash divinity

Reading minds She reforms thoughts

And gives to slaves their destiny

No man now am i but thing

Touch by passion’s untempered rod

Her wand i kiss before i suffer

And name Her God of my demise

Miztress Sophie High Queen of Hell

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poems for Miztress Sophie

Her used bubble gum i’ll buy

Chew it during my working hours

Roll it round my mouth

Stale spearemint with her spit

Every day i’ll take it from its silver box

A treasure of rare consumption

And pray to Her as i chomp it

An intimate gift to devour

Tasting of fag ash and slave wishes

Hard as dull cardboard

But in a God’s mouth it’s hung out

Now my servile jaws work

To taste my grim fate

Chewed as silently for hours

i stand naked in the corner

under the surveliance of her camera

a fool She uses harsh

a fool so drained of power

As a soul depleted of its dignity

Washed out flavor of true zombie

Fatigued and weary

The gum has tang of toilet

It smacks of tasteless relish

Yet it is a priceless dish

Miztress Sophie’s mouth made it rare

Surpassing all gastranomic danties

As a bubble between Her lips

As a savour it has no compare

In a trashcan She matured it

And to this trash can She returned it

Tossed it in my gaping begging bowl

Long by its sell by date

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