indeed,
dear muses..
though my name
may not be
quite Anubis..
and though
it isn’t Ra,
there’s still
a bit of fission
in me left.
one thing
is certain though:
I am become Death!
the creator of nostalgia.
reckless inducer
of wanton cardialgia.

it is as if,
not for pretend..
but rather
quite for real
in space and time..
and oh so early
in the morning..
oh so very late in night..
I spent these many hours
writing lovely poems
for your hearts’ delight.

A big as if.
You think I wrote
these rhymey riddles
for your frivolous
nostalgia needs?
You think it is
for your affection
that my heart
profusely bleeds?
Well, maybe..
I think not!
though,
if it gets you
all worked up
or hot and bothered..
maybe
yes and yes,
on second thought!

In truth, however..
all these poems
I have written
as a will to power..
far far far beyond
frivolities like Eros..
or my hunger
for fair maiden flesh.
or thirst,
unquenchable,
for mermaid tears.
nayy, mein Mädchen,
liebende Meerjungfrau..
now listen closely,
I implore you,
hearken here!
The Truth
is so much darker
than it may
initially appear…

The matter
which I speak of here
I am afraid, concerns
much greater powers..
that our sighted eyes
or hearing ears
may never perceive.
We may try, however,
to conceive of them..
within our loving prayers
and our loathing thoughts.
It takes a lotta faith,
but what the hell..
The Devil says
it’s worth a shot!

Don’t crucify
me though!
I am a herald
of the lightning,
but its bringer
I am not.
I am a harbinger
of rolling thunders..
but of their growling,
unearthly rumbles..
singer I am not.
For, I am merely but
a humble messenger..
of in veritate
The Messenger
of Elder Gods.

keeper of records,
healer of
the blinded eyes..
scribbler
of sweet and spicy
rhymey riddles,
riddley rhymes.
The Weigher
of our hearts
upon a scale of
loves and loathes.
Thrice-greatest Hermes,
known by Egyptians
of the olde..
as Thoth.