Hell hath come on brimstone wings bolder
than the defenders; wiser? Older?
Hell hath come, may brimstone smoulder.
spitting flames, a faceless soldier.
The fires dance like harem whores
as daemons fly o’er burnt tar floors
with crag-teeth lining gaping maws.
Sulphurous fumes mask true cause.
Hell hath come, a hooded figure.
Full of vengeful ire and rigour.
Dirty anger burning bigger
than sinful spectres quick to trigger.
Scorned and burned lie Hades’ judges
for so long bearing not the smudges
of Abbadon’s hypocritical grudges.
Still the army flare-shod trudges.
Hell hath come inferno blazing,
Succubae in hordes are facing.
simmering veins, pyretic, racing.
Mouths on ferric tang are tasting.
The true devil lies in towers of tusk
surrounded by his flawless musk.
Apocalypse now, at dawn and dusk
in this pseudo-angelic husk.
Hell hath come. And it is branded.
Endless souls lie begging, stranded.
Forbidden fruit is all that’s handed
to crying masses, fearfully banded.
The Devil, Satan, whets his beak
more with every word we speak.
Creating armies, dank and reek
with evil minds and futures bleak.
Hell hath come. Tears are burning
down the faces of those learning
daemon’s feelings of lust and yearning
for what The Great Shaitan is earning.
When Satan thieves; mere indiscretion.
The flames begat would never lessen.
Decrepit hellions faced oppression
in atmospheres of deep depression.
Hell hath come. The sinners wonder
who will judge with righteous thunder
on their soulless, empty plunder.
For the Earth now rend asunder.
Hark! The trumpets! How they sound,
Not one worthy, heaven bound.
Furious judgement gathered round.
But not from He skyward found.
Forts are built, blood is spilt,
All of resentment. None of guilt.
Fear, fire, panic, dire,
Hark! I hear no Seraphic choir.
Heed the beast. The day does near,
quiver in immortal fear.
Nothing safe, naught is dear.
Etched in blood a message; leer
at the words of ancient seer.
A message wrought of hellfires hearty,
apt for our orgiastic party.
“Lasciate ogne speranza,