A little poem for you.

[Satanic Path]

By: me.

Not a drop of blood
will be given to compassion's lips.
Nor the voice of fury will be unheard,
for every witch shall have his enemy's head at her feet,
staring at her, lifeless, subdued.
Whores and their mary,
suffocated with a burning rosary,
their neck shall be broken.
The man who steals a child's seed,
he will live eternally in desperation,
and his every wound or shattered, weak bone shall be healed,
so that our children can cut his flesh,
laugh in joy as the bones break once more.
We await laying on the grass, holding our hands, for the scarlet river
to flow on our flesh, to end our hunger.
Our red eyes will become golden yellow,
as the fury of dark magick kisses the begging priest on his impure lips, and the abominable flesh catches fire.
No son, not either a daughter will ever hear a priest curse their sacred nature, or the screams of women burning at a new stake, as they've fallen in love with life and the Holy Snake.
And the dead christ,
will be hung forever to an apple tree
rising at the feet of the Gates...
So that our children dressed in night's skin,
will know the undying memory
of the cruel, fair, holy war and bring fury in the next battle.
Those fragile bones will build our throne,
and we'll sip from His Goblet sitting on those last skeletons.
The impure wine will paint
our home, the sacred kingdom where
Amalek's daughters and sons will rejoice
in the pleasure of the immortal flesh.
Vile pages shall burn within the ultimate church, die when a Demon blows his dazzling fire and the roof falls down.
We'll rejoice, suspended in the dawn's air,
as the cross falls to pieces, and every piece bleeds, all of them go up in flames.
Neither the ashes of the old lie
will poison the land, for nothing will remain, nothing will stand against the wise man and woman celebrating his God, worshipping naked a dark goat, in the blessed orgasm of a never-ending orgy.
Join us, throw your clothes over their false moral, feel darkness' seed grow in you, heal you, love you as light never did.
If you are cold, summon fire, feed the fury.
Fly in the sideral space, float among moons and new earths, fly as you flought in your human dreams, Demons and magick bless you, you won't need to breathe.
You'll be the one with the crown, the one floating in the sky of the enemy,
and when you open your hands,
it will rain blood, and the blood will drown
all beasts.
Delight, when their last kingdom goes under their murdered's blood, delight!