satan's sister

(no subject)

Riding down the road at evening with the stars or steed and shoon
I have heard an old man singing underneath a copper moon;
"God, who gemmed with topaz twilights, opal portals of the day,
"On our amaranthine mountains, why make human souls of clay?
"For I rode the moon-mare's horses in the glory of my youth,
"Wrestled with the hills at sunset— till I met brass-tinctured Truth.
"Till I saw the temples topple, till I saw the idols reel,
"Till my brain had turned to iron, and my heart had turned to steel.
"Satan, Satan, brother Satan, fill my soul with frozen fire;
"Feed with hearts of rose-white women ashes of my dead desire.
"For my road runs out in thistles and my dreams have turned to dust.
"And my pinions fade and falter to the raven wings of rust.
"Truth has smitten me with arrows and her hand is in my hair—
"Youth, she hides in yonder mountains — go and see her, if you dare!
"Work your magic, brother Satan, fill my brain with fiery spells.
"Satan, Satan, brother Satan, have known your fiercest Hells."
Riding down the road at evening when the wind was on the sea,
I have heard an old man singing, and he sang most drearily
Strange to hear, when dark lakes shimmer to the wailing of the loon,
Amethystine Homer singing under evening's copper moon.

Robert E. Howard, "Always Comes Evening"
  • ragwad

King Demons

 Asmodeus: (Heb: Ashmodei, Ashemdei) An evil spirit. The name Asmodeus may be derived from the Zoroastrian Aesmadiv, the “spirit of anger” who serves Ahriman, the Persian god of evil. Asmodeus is first mentioned in the apocryphal book Tobit, where he slays seven grooms of a young girl before being bested by the hero, who with the help of Raphael, drives him off using the gall of a river fish.

In Pesach 110a he is dubbed the “king of demons.” The locus classicus for Asmodeus is the wonderful Talmudic tale of how he usurps the throne of Solomon (Git. 68a-b) after the see the complete article, go to




"MISCHIEF IN THE MACHINE - A Circus Folktale" the new Spectacular by Emperor Norton’s Stationary Marching Band!

Emperor Norton's Stationary Marching Band presents:


This is the biggest and most spectacular thing we've ever done, so you
DO NOT want to miss it!

Through our signature blend of live music, theater & circus arts,
Mischief in the Machine tells a tale of the re-emergence of hope in a
dilapidated world where everyday life has been crushed under an
oppressive regime of silence. The story follows a haphazard hero who
uses playfulness and absurdity to rally a misfit resistance.

Mischief in the Machine is an adult theatrical-style circus
performance, which includes acrobatics, aerial performance, dance, and
an all-original musical score composed and performed by Emperor Norton’s Stationary Marching Band!

Due to mature themes and imagery, Mischief in the Machine is recommend
for ages 16+.

Sunday, June 1st - 2:30 PM doors, 3PM show
Where: Boston University Dance Theater

915 Commonwealth Avenue
Entrance on Buick Street
Green line, B train, St. Paul Street
Parking available

... the most exciting circus Boston has ever seen!


We have TWO pairs of tickets for the Sunday 6/1 Show!

Each pair also comes with a FREE TSHIRT!

Just tell us in why YOU deserve these tickets and email it to:
mercurybooking at yahoo dot com

Contest ends Friday night at 11 PM (Pacific Time)

Winners will be chosen randomly from submissions.

Act now!


[for your "why" just mention that Stillbourne sent you for tickets -- :) ]


Devil and Sex

Fun little poem referencing the devil and a young teenage girl loosing her virginity to him.....

By Susan K. de Vegter

Midnight's dark moon aflow on the waves
Innocence calling- "try to behave"
Silhouettes bond on beaches’ white sands
Walking embraced... hands gripping hands
Thoughts all together, a sameness festooned
Hearts raw and beating under this moon
Louder the silence of midnight forsakes
Two lover's passion... pushing their brakes
Each step of innocence comes a new dare
Caressing this mystery and pleasuring cares
Reaching for something , risking their ruin
Touching the rhythm of their own wrong-doing
Collapsing on sand dunes...legs weaving slow
Bathed in the moonlight's phosphorous glow
Body's heaving with each rushing wave
It's too late now as nothing behaves
Moisture is beading as energies fly
Arching to arches...moans meeting sighs
Thunderous lightening with no storm in sight
Dancing with the devil in the pale moonlight.