I have been over forty years engaged in the administration of the law in one capacity or another. I thought that I knew of every conceivable form of wickedness. I thought that everything which was vicious and bad had been produced at one time or another before me. I have learnt in this case that we can always learn something more if we live long enough. I have never heard such dreadful, horrible, blasphemous and abominable stuff as that which has been produced by this man who describes himself to you as the greatest living poet. – Justice Swift
The worms in the jury wriggled, rising out of the rain.
Though headless, in union, they spoke in favor
of Jezebel, of the woman who claims I conjure
with Black Magick; I practice patience with the pestilence.
How can what I preach be dark,
if it was portended by the Golden Dawn?
Still, the narrow knife minds sharpen
their thoughts and tongues.
Unanimous, they vomit their decisions on the floor,
while the bloodhound-judge laps it up.
He stares white hot lightning, holding his hammer,
ready to force nails in my hands
and yet I am called Antichrist.
The verdict is given from falcon-headed fools,
who have just condemned the prophet of Horus.
I have not convinced the false fingers of God.
I now owe the children gold to blind their mirror eyes.
They disturb me with terse testimony,
yet are unaware that they wrap themselves in crowns
of thorns, restricting their true selves.
As I walk outside the court, I am Lilith,
forgotten and cast out of Eden
for loving the physical pleasures of men.
A woman approaches me vampiric,
wishing to create another being to bear my name.
I let her, but not before I ingest
the numbing knowledge of plants and chemicals.
Perhaps if conceived under an altered mind,
the new child will be impervious
to the wondrous horrors of earth.
She leaves my bed, and I have visions
of walking to Atlantis.