DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Acolyte, v. 2, issue 2, whole no. 6, Spring 1944

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Acolyte, v. 2, issue 2, whole no. 6, Spring 1944

31858063101376_018

BLACK CATHEDRALS
Sheer rising from the deeps of utter madness,
Frowning on thoughts rebellious, raging flood,
Thrusting black fingers through the robe of heaven
To grasp a star and drink the light like blood.

They tower - the brazen spires of desolation,
Crowned with the scepter-glow of dead desire;
Above the tomb of golden aspiration,
Satanic monuments of frozen fire.

The pale stars veil their mysteries affrighted,
Before lascivious eyes and demon spell,
And hooded sins do homage to their master,
In black cathedrals of the Prince of Hell.
---Lilith Lorraine.

FATALITY
A street lamp blinks in the chilly night
Casting a feeble glow around;
A beacon made of quavering light
And touching on the frost ground.
A gallant flame of sheer delight
Amid surrounding dark profound.
Yet it seemed straining in the black
As if 'twer pushing something back.

And then the ineffective glow
Grew stronger and the darkness drew
Just back a pace as if to go,
But still remained in shadows do
To haunt each passing footstep slow,
And watch where each is leading to.
Again I see a churning there
As if it whispered out, beware!

And still the seething carried on,
And endless grasping in the night,
Then rushing back like seeking spawn
As darkness gripped in demon-fight
A shaft of quivering light, now gone
Back to that bulb of weakened light.
But if the murk had grasped the beam,
I wonder where it now would gleam.

And steadily the war goes by,
Night against day for ages past.
But one will lose as eons fly;
That much in nature's past is fast.
When those last rays with feeble sigh
Upon this dying sphere are cast;
The light no more will mortals see,
And earth will be....eternity.
---Duane W. Rimel

--14--

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BLACK CATHEDRALS Sheer rising from the deeps of utter madness, Frowning on thoughts rebellious, raging flood, Thrusting black fingers through the robe of heaven To grasp a star and drink the light like blood. They tower - the brazen spires of desolation, Crowned with the scepter-glow of dead desire; Above the tomb of golden aspiration, Satanic monuments of frozen fire. The pale stars veil their mysteries affrighted, Before lascivious eyes and demon spell, And hooded sins do homage to their master, In black cathedrals of the Prince of Hell. ---Lilith Lorraine. FATALITY A street lamp blinks in the chilly night Casting a feeble glow around; A beacon made of quavering light And touching on the frost ground. A gallant flame of sheer delight Amid surrounding dark profound. Yet it seemed straining in the black As if 'twer pushing something back. And then the ineffective glow Grew stronger and the darkness drew Just back a pace as if to go, But still remained in shadows do To haunt each passing footstep slow, And watch where each is leading to. Again I see a churning there As if it whispered out, beware! And still the seething carried on, And endless grasping in the night, Then rushing back like seeking spawn As darkness gripped in demon-fight A shaft of quivering light, now gone Back to that bulb of weakened light. But if the murk had grasped the beam, I wonder where it now would gleam. And steadily the war goes by, Night against day for ages past. But one will lose as eons fly; That much in nature's past is fast. When those last rays with feeble sigh Upon this dying sphere are cast; The light no more will mortals see, And earth will be....eternity. ---Duane W. Rimel --14--