The Pilgrimage Of Inhumane Demise

This poem is one of my amazing 'English Class' works. It got an A++ and my teacher recommendend it for publication. It follows the form of the Canterburry Tales and includes the prologue of five specific characters going on a journey of realization (recognization of one's self).

I believe it was the words of Data (Star Trek: TNG): "A writer's growth depends on a accurate description of his works." I will accept all critisisms on my work and all compliments.

Scyrone 6352

The Pilgrimage of Inhumane Demise

Incrippling belief of damnations,
The philosophy of life becomes end,
By Human or by God-like creations,
Hell, Heaven, Earth, Grave lands of the dried dead.
Two halves times two equals the death legend,
Seeing the last second before the fall,
Total, five humans, five beliefs, pretend,
Sadist Grim Reaper has come for them all.
A second, but a journey of life-time,
But taking all of it in the conscious,
Thoughts all about crawling in the night-time,
Choose astral world or the green-blue staunchness,
Every man has a complicated view,
How the last moment of death will appear,
So go give the depraved Devil his due,
Or go give the forged Gods back their high debt . . .

“I am the God! You are the servantine!”
Says the ‘God’ by the name The Indulgent.
“You have Heaven, ‘ever ego is mine!”
Pronouncing to Jesus Christ slave servants.
Dons black robe, Sigil Baphomet ‘round neck,
Sword on feminine naked altar,
Following pursuit in immortal trek,
A pursuit in which he cannot falter.
Exploiting sin, indulgence is a feat,
Misinterpreted by those who claim wise,
Pain, anger, hostile, in those who him treat,
And in those that contradictingly lie.
Ultimate master of philosophy,
Gives money, not to poor, but to the rich,
Through the eyes of LaVey, truth all will see,
That a man of this power need no stitch.
Survival of the fittest to attest,
Satan, not a Demon, but ideal,
Death, a furthering of time at wish best,
To further achieve legend immortal.
Wrote books on life’s pleasure forevermore,
Became “Doktor” for while at age nineteen,
Controversial American fights whored,
Gains top-notch Masters and high PhDs.
Here lay a man, or God, with a legend,
His rich death, not death, true at mentioned,
Till death do him part at his partial end,
But a name living on with intention.

“For God loved the world that he gave his son!”
Saith the man by the name The Worshipper,
“I live in Heaven, you burn in Hell, son!”
Judging you by the dead and gone sinners.
White all around, like an angel’s live wings,
Grasping the God concept true supreme,
Wrapped in shame and humility, God’s things,
Moral, code, virtue, good character glean.
Two billion walk the earth, some unconvinced,
The Bible of truth, save you from all sins,
Live on earth, converting masses sufficed,
Sprouting success on God’s true non-whims.
Love your enemies, turn the other cheek,
Speaks the man who follow Jesus and Christ,
Do not ‘come rich, rather charitize weak,
And hold evil Satan in own God vice.
Believe it or not, God is only way,
Yearn to believe his forgiving power,
If temptation pounds you always say “NAY!”
And the cheering of Heaven will flower.
Loved those who do tragic against him done,
Worshipped Holy Ghost from inside the womb,
Took hold of the Church and made it all one,
Lived his life as how high God told him too.
Here the man’s death, but not suffocate fear,
For he knows his battle will not full lose,
Knowing the Judgment before God is near,
Heaven over damned Hell he will choose.

“Praise Allah! I die today! Fear not death!”
Says the man to be called The Terrorist,
The abnormal wish of only last breath,
Normal fanatic Islamic request.
Look in the eyes of the true radical,
Usual pro-Islam power ‘gainst men,
Bombing all, a stereotypical,
And in the name of Allah ov’ again.
Covered in face, gun slung over shoulder,
Shadows in the desert to truly ‘gin,
Men above women, truly good holder,
A demand by his Allah, not a sin.
The highest law of all is the prayer,
And then the protection of our world,
Then comes in play the Jihad, a declare,
Of the destruction of tyrant their homes.
Do not betray him, he will attempt kill,
Forever and ever he will strike you,
Death a last option, but always first will,
And proud to die for timeless religion.
Ruled his long time with cold ironfist dread,
Never seen by a single foreign face,
All giving lives for what only he says,
Dictator and lover, no torn disgrace.
Strapped to a boom explosion,
Knowing his violence true pain faith,
Dying for foreign destruction, ‘tis true,
That he will always die in Allah’s name.

“Evolution is to be true and right,”
Speaks the man who goeth by The Nothing,
“Religion is false, my grave is my might.”
True knowing what he wants to be lusting.
What he wear’s and what he evolvedly is,
Utmost unknown to the sight of all men,
The leap of faith people judge his belief,
Makes him dragon in the dark of his den.
Gods are false, men are the all createes,
To bring evidence, religion itself!
Worshiping your own insecurities,
So create your own God to create help!
From fish to man, from old time to new age,
A repeat of the song called extinction,
Evolving technological facades,
Against all the faith-driven dictation.
A great pledge of undying allegiance,
But to put faith in all God,
An Atheistic anti-redeemer,
Is the path to a grave struck within odd.
A man with no complic’ connotations,
Who lived normal just like the dead, live rest,
Admired controversy, believes in,
But the man among the mass of lest.
He loved, he felt, he knew the hardened pain,
Of being buried in the dirt rock shame,
But he had a belief in one evil thing,
He would never see his loved ones again.

“The earth is my strength; the earth is my home,”
Says the man who is called The Magician,
“Zodiac world, nature rituals prone,”
Proclaiming magickal non-constrictions.
Earth, Fire, Water, Air, Spirit come forth,
To the splendor of majestic wild world,
Cthulu, Aries, and Homage to Tchort,
With astral plains and the auraic swirl.
The planets align, and solar eclipse,
Men and women all are bare in the woods,
North, South, East, West, summoned to start enlist,
These witches not easily understood.
White and black, dark and light, true absolute,
All of them suiting the animist skins,
No blood shed, but material untruth,
Focus personality through the ins.
Darkness, attack, anger, the evil eye,
Homing against the dark owner threefold,
Not to be used, not to dare even try,
The karma will destroy your eaten soul.
Man of true power, wise over ancient,
Protestor of governs, men of angst, and war,
Character he lives, from a life once lived,
A misinterpretation further more.
Death is to come to the ones who live ‘ever,
Reincarnate as whoever time picks,
No goods or bads, the knife ‘pon life, sever,
Pagan thoughts and mind, millions of hits.

So these five men, true to their words,
All died for their own founded faiths,
So like sheep, goats, cattle, all in the herds,
Disappear not knowing truth to trace.
A sin is a sin which goes against man,
Displayed in each their own tripped vision,
Death is an hourglass filtering sand,
With true Pride as it’s forcing companion.
I wonder why, death, why do you need life,
To sustain, unless you are a shed lie,
Death is not human, its journey not known,
A pilgrimage of inhumane demise.