Mars awakens!

Tuesday’s son inflamed in Godhead posture

Sickle and scythe, a separated night

The bolts from the heavens to cause his blight

The inverted wear many obtuse grins

As Mars wages rouge tears to dribble down dejected chins!

Iron thus proliferates seeds sewn in wars, whilst the torches of falsehood illuminate flies on their doors!

-HH

About the Poet

HAELHOWLERARTE

LO AND BEHOLD, FOR I AM THE WAY OF THE WORD CRAWLING BACKWARDS

These are experiences I have had that become uttered in a way I don’t have to speak of them, yet they remain voluble and audible in nature for those with eyes to see and ears to hear.

Sometimes I add metaphors as a comparatum of physical and non-physical altercations and gests to put myself onto paper on what some would call a soul-functioning level (emotions, desires, terra-formatted life); and a level devoid of such (thought, self dissolution & augmentation; the anti-demiurgic) to see correlation between the two. It is like witnessing two chariots racing, or two horses from one swerving away from the cart in dierent directions, only to rejoin in the rubble of the unanticipated collision which notes the trials and tribulations of the soul.

Often this outlet enables me to mix such factors as a linguistic alchemical experiment. Feeling the bridge of crossing and allowing such words to either cross or incinerate that bridge in perpetual ow. Words are matter meant to portray the very emptiness of anti-matter. When human thought and emotion has exhausted me enough, I lean into that anti-matter through revelations of my path and I nd it is where I am home.

My work is the zero-sum turned innite of Diabolic traversion. I continue to seek and expand through various means of formulation. It is benecial to me to construct this wordsmithing with eyes shut, as it speaks for me with eyes open. It is the way of the word that inseminates minds.

SDRAWKCAB GNILWARC DROW EHT FO YAW EHT MA I ROF DLOHEB DNA OL Lo and behold, for I am the way of the word of the Devil.

HAELHOWLERARTE