49970504 AA1  Hail Satan!

        PRELUDE ("A Satanist Doctrine")

        Discretions blemish with attempted resolution
        An obsession with linear time and space.

        Imagining a finitude excluded from erstwhile monolatry,
        The origins of the Dark Lord and the Hellish Contingent
        Are dressed in fabrics both dependent and astral,
        While, being beyond the bounds of human conception,
        They demonstrate their terran multiplicity
        Through poly- and therio-morphism.

        Aye, Gaia Herself, dissected and distended
        Into forms comprehensible to Anthropos
        Showers forth a parade of Cthonos and Telluria.

       _Lost in Paradise: Milton-hatred_, 

          by nocTifer

        Low in a corner of admirable aesthetic,
        Far outweighing in value
        Those chairs decorous and ostentatious,
        Constructed by elite kings and arrogant sky gods,
        Satan lounged relaxedly,
        Enjoying the company of the Lord of Dung and Flies.

        A child of Uranus, Beelzeboul was the best
        Of the New Brood,
        His unique excretial and symbiotic qualities
        Affirming a dedication and honor
        Unsurpassed amidst the Infernal Horde.

        Of late, the god of this world had lamented
        A distinct lack of excitement,
        Less challenges arising
        With the encrustation and cooling,
        The lovely luminal oscillation and revolution
        About a blossoming eruption of heat and light
        Into nothingness.

        Attentively observing an abundant animation,
        Even the development of Anthropos
        Had become a commonplace,
        Grindingly-slow parasite,
        Strewn with a latent capacity
        For technik and reflection.

        Scratching behind a hoof,
        Old Hairy expressed amusement at news
        That an extra-terrestrial interloper
        Was said to be rallying the host of the heavens,
        And some named him "the High God" and "Our Father".

        "How delightful!  A means to thin the herd!"
        And yet the demondim were agitated,
        Their amusements and extravagances
        Disrupted by the infiltrations of vascillating celestials.

        Forever during the Consolidation had they been untroubled
        By such interference; the host of the heavens
        Respectful in its grand obsession with the Vacuum
        And the colorful stellae arranged on its brink.

        The Dunglord explained that this rebel was a
        Tribal tyrant from the furthest reaches,
        Given authority on account of his previous remove.

        Not only this, but it appeared the newcomer
        Was fond of stasis, deception and enslavement,
        Accusing others likewise and absorbing latent power
        By yoking together what they called a 'Council'
        Where he used his magic to charm and dominate.

        "This I must *see*!" exclaimed Mastema.
        So an entourage formed and the great distances
        Between the Underworld
        (Which all know to be as far from the heavenly host as possible)
        And the Sky Council (sod) were traversed.

        Disguised as messengers from the Seventh Heaven,
        The Prince of the Aerial Powers
        Arrived during an auspicious moment.

        The Council Chieftain, being aglow
        In the exaltation of his first born,
        Didst have in mind a Grand Hierarchy.

        "This day I take great pride in declaring
         My only son, and in this holy hall
         Have I anointed him, whom ye now behold.
         At my right hand, as your Head I appoint,
         And by my self have sworn to him that all knees
         Shall bow, and shall confess him Lord."

        As the Council commenced the kowtow,
        It became apparent that there was a faction
        Composed of timbre and power
        Whose likeness measured the equal of,
        Or indeed surpassed, the one called "Most High".

        The blustery Michael, seized by a fit of rage,
        Demanded acquiescence and explanation.

        Then didst the Great Accuser,
        Favoring the impetuous stellae with kindly attentions,
        Smile and perforce deliver
        A speech most eloquent and disturbing:

        "What manner of godliness this?
         To demand submission without condition,
         To subordinate power to an half-pint upstart,
         To dictate on high a slavery complete,
         Without knowing and testing the authority thereof?
         Wherefore is the sense in you celestial invaders,
         That you submit your necks
         And choose to bend the supple knee?"

        At this of course there was a great commotion,
        The spell of the Tetragrammaton
        Partially unwoven, unravelled.

        The luminous herd now divided,
        Cleaving High and Low, and that Between.
        A mad scramble indicated preparations for battle,
        Michael beating his breast brutishly,
        With shining, ferocious eyes.

        Yet the Most High, his face purplish with outrage,
        Quieted them somewhat
        With a demonstration of temperance.

        "You are mine to command!" he shouted,
        Apparently mistaking Belial for his lackey.

        "Thou wilt obey the Throne Supreme,
         Lest Our Anger be unleashed,
         Your insubordination squelched!"

        With horror and envy at the
        Potent resistance to his domination,
        The Chieftain stood aghast
        As this renegade mal'ak,
        Semyaza, again addressed the Council:

        "Know you not your true heritage?
         Be ye instructed therefore.
         We were self-begot, self-raised,
         Our puissance is our own,
         Our own right hand
         Shall teach us of the best deeds.
         By proof try who is our equal!"

        At this the warfare ensued,
        Ho Satanas joining the rebels
        Who were intent upon a complete victory.

        The venture deemed a complete success,
        Old Nick took leave,
        Providing directions and guides to
        Those who subsequently sought refuge.

        The heavenly host soon discovered the ruse,
        Yet that day nearly half the celestial ranks
        Abandoned the tyrannical Chieftain god
        In favor of the Subterranean rebels.

        Still the precious Gate of Death
        Held aloof the astral adversaries,
        Their aperturic abyss an ever-lengthening entry
        For any not invited to the Lower World
        Or winning through in transformative ordeal.

        The Father god, stupendously upstaged
        And jealous at the power of the Evil One,
        Brooded with his archon-angelos,
        Each suggesting grandiose schemes
        Of deception or counter-assault.

        Until the tyrant's son,
        Incited by the Father to salvage his reputation,
        Volunteered to attempt a breach of the Gate
        With a method heretofore untried and dangerous.

        Mustering his courage and securing the aid
        Of his Father's most charming archon,
        He selected a human woman on Earth
        And, using his godly power,
        Raped her, seeding himself inside her womb.

        The archon's charm effecting her willing cooperation,
        Mary was disposed to the care of the god.

        A "miraculous" pregnancy,
        The birth was presaged by stellar phenomena
        And accompanied by wondrous signs
        Made possible by the son's accomplices.

        To news of all this, Mephisto expressed delight.
        "Let us play along, this travesty undoes the tyrant!"

        With the Devil making offerings to Yeheshua
        By which neither the Gate be breached
        Nor the impending tragedy avoided,
        The common tale (much exaggerated!) unfolded.

        The people, disturbed by the troublesome godson,
        Made an example and seized the actuality and symbol
        Of the dying god as salvation.

        Yeheshua being what he was, proceeded through the Gate,
        Both unaware of the immense joke played at his expense
        And content to have won his way into the Underworld.

        Here he was met by several of his former associates,
        Welcomed as a hero for turning humans toward atheism,
        And finally converted from the harsh ways of his Father
        To something more pastoral,
        Simultaneously protecting the Earth
        And setting the stage for the maturation of Anthropos.

        The Hordes of Hell rejoiced,
        The Father of Lies congratulated him,
        And the petty tyrant departed for other worlds.

  NOTE: I have never read through Milton, being content to admire the
        umbra of Dore' and be repulsed by reflections of the travesty
        done by the poet.

  (c) nocTifer@satanservice.org 1997, 2001-2666

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