Darkness is the blood vessel of the soul
We are not beauty
We are masks
Floating in a sewer of consciousness
Ugly, and eternal
The new bible will come
Between incense and bullets
Cutting rapidly
Through the age of schizophrenia .
For all this I declare
By blackest sun
To all living things .
In the aeons to come
That I am the specimen of the golden age
I am the future
And I am coming
Ritual Poetry 1-16
We are not beauty
We are masks
Floating in a sewer of consciousness
Ugly, and eternal
The new bible will come
Between incense and bullets
Cutting rapidly
Through the age of schizophrenia .
For all this I declare
By blackest sun
To all living things .
In the aeons to come
That I am the specimen of the golden age
I am the future
And I am coming
Ritual Poetry 1-16