[Thinking about the Qliphoth, I was recently writing poems about each Qlipha. I’ve abandoned the project, and this was the only one of the resulting poems I like. Nota Bene: please pardon the racial slur in the poem, it seemed appropriate in the mouth of the speaker. Also, Nightsiders, pardon the parodic elements you may find, if any (I know y’all are a serious lot). ‘Tis my Muse will have it so.]
Qlipha, Samael: Ruler Adrammelech
My swift chariot is the original horseless perambulator:
burning babies give you so much more — MPG, I mean:
I buy them pickled and highly volatile, by the jumbo jar.
Look for me after sunset: I’ll be wearing a short sleeved shirt:
if after sunrise, the same, only with pocket protector:
I’m an average guy, only more precise.
I live for speed — I have crashed every Harley that ever
was made: still I live: all my parts can be had
off the shelf, on the cheap.
I chase ambulances, and catch them:
if you’ve been in an accident call me:
take me car shopping and I’ll jew the bastards down, down, down.
I sell carpets also: and I fly them:
this snappy Navajo job I magicked with my rod …
or was it my pentacle? … or my sword?
I stay up late most nights, watching Hogan’s Heroes
and porn: my eyes move independently:
I watch them simultaneously.
Rachel Izabella, 26 March 2013