i
I
I AM
I am Satyricon
I am faggot, white wood burning in your fire
I am misplant, transplant no roots in the American soil
Son of hatred and abuse
Fodder for the cannons of
FUCKING FAGGOT SISSY QUEER FREAK NERD WIMP GEEK
FREAK. FREAK. FREAK.
Freaking out? Am *I* freaking out??
You bet your sweet ASS I’m freaking out I’m
Forty-three FUCKINGYEARS old and just when I was
TRYING
to finally get my own shit together?
Reality took a fucking
SHIT ON ME
and by me, I mean us,
because, fuck,
I kept saying “The only way out is through, and we’re going to get through this together!”
As if my words could change the world?
As if my voice was ever heard or mattered?
And one year later
One goddamn LOOOOOOOOONG-ass year later
We’ve barely moved one motherfucking inch and
Yes in fact I DO swear a lot and always have–
They never managed to beat THAT out of me and
Anyway, fuck you because swearing a lot is actually a sign of high intelligence
not that anyone REALLY wants to hear what the really intelligent people
have got to say because
Frankly? It isn’t pretty and we’ve all got blood on our hands and
Isn’t it nicer to just switch off the news, tune out the truth and
Get fucked? Or just fucked up??
FUCK
It’s like, I’m not trying to be that asshole but obviously SOMEONE
‘sGotta be the asshole here because without a sphincter
This whole world is gonna be
SO FULL OF SHIT
That it explodes in a microsecond.
I could try to show you the equation on paper but
Sadly, I never got that one paper that supposedly tells you
That you’re more eligible than someone else to earn that
OTHER kind of paper that’s apparently THE only thing
That anyone judges us by anymore and
By the way, you ever notice how much paper it costs to get that other paper?
Hence, no paper
But I digress.
I am Satyricon
And though the blood of generations of witches and Fae
Courses constantly through my evermore visible veins
My magick wasn’t enough to save Chad,
It might’ve had something to do with the deaths of my parents
(don’t hit your children.
DON’T HIT YOUR CHILDREN.)
(Children will listen. Children will grow…
Grow more powerful and grow to regret what they cannot undo,
The Past that cannot be undone
Cannot take back the hatred which was a natural response to
Violence, ignorance, neglect
And of course, more hatred)
Every time I think I’ve come to forgive myself
Another sling or arrow pierces to the depths of my
VERY vulnerable and constantly exposed heart–
Why yes I AM hypersensitive and always have been;
Maybe that’s a side effect of the Queerness or maybe
I was just breast-fed for too long,
Who could say?–
Causing me to retreat again into the only familiar constant:
Chaos.
I’ve tried so hard for so many years of my life to
Maintain some illusory concept of control when
It’s now MUCH MORE than obvious
That control is an illusion to people like me…
I am Satyricon
Witch Of Walter Street
Peddler of charms, teller of fortunes
(not their creator; I’m merely your Cassandra)
“I’m not good, I’m not nice, I’m just RIGHT
I’m the WITCH, you’re the WORLD”…
It’s absolutely fucking remarkable
How little I care for being right anymore;
If what was right became what was
ACTUALLY FUCKING DONE
At least 50% of the time maybe
WE WOULDN’T ALL BE LIVING AND DYING THROUGH THIS MESS
Right now.
Right now.
Right here.
I am Satryicon,
And I am exhausted.
All my charms are now o’erthrown.
You can have your world back;
After all, we haven’t really been using it anyway,
Have we?
Not when there’s a Magic Sky Palace (TM)
Awaiting all of Jesus’ little flock of sheeple
When they rapture the fuck outta here
And leave this a scorched Earth left for us witches to burn on,
Eternally.
Have I mentioned I’m tired?
Sorry, sometimes I forget things,
Repeat things,
That doesn’t make them any less true,
Tired.
So tired of all this DRAMA
Tired of pretending I’m “fine”
Long since have I given up the ghost of “good”
I AM NOT OK.
Why should I be?
Nothing else is.
Nor no one, save perhaps for a miserable 1% or so
Literally drowning in their fatted wealth
And eating Iguanas
(Jeff fucking Bezos. Google it.)
Believing somehow that either:
They’re somehow going to be able to BUY their way out of
The effects of the Armageddon they’ve manufactured
OR
They really just don’t care who suffers after they’re dead–
Including their own children–
Cuz they died with the most money so they won,
Right…..?
I am Satyricon
I am a Witch
And so were the Founding Fathers
YES
Surprise, look it up! Freemasonry is NOT
Christianity and
Anyway how could you not look at practically everything
In Washington DC and miss
The black magick of it all,
The perverse will of white colonizers
Forced upon a peaceful and once verdant continent
With its own First Peoples?
Couldn’t we have taken a page from the 2020 Playbook and
JUST STAYED THE FUCK HOME???
No! Instead, we decided to just wear a mask:
The mask of righteousness. Of some Puritanical putrescence
To justify the slaughter of peaceful “savages” but
Where was I? Oh yeah, Masonry.
Ever wonder why ol’ Ben Franklin never held office,
But ended up on the $100 bill?
I’ll give you a clue–
It wasn’t because of his bon mots!
But what the fuck do you care?
It’s too hard to think about any of that.
Better to Grubhub some food and watch Amazon Prime.
Because the truth is simply so exhausting.
And we’re all tired.
We’re all so very tired.
I think I may have said already that,
In fact,
I too am tired.
I am Satyricon,
And I am a Queer.
Did I choose Queer?
Insofar as the precise definition of its meaning
In the English language,
Sure I chose THAT to describe myself
(being rather obsessed with words from an early age)
But BEING Queer is certainly and absolutely
Nothing I ever CHOSE, I mean
If merely giving it up would’ve meant one less beating
From any other human being in my first 20 years of
Life or so surely, logically,
As the son of a PhD in astrophysics
(with a mean right arm btw)
I would’ve just CHOSEN not to be Queer…..?
Unless I truly do hate myself that much?
If I did, who would be to blame?
After all, there wasn’t a day of my childhood that went by
In which I wasn’t punished for something
I could not understand.
Gosh, I’m whining, aren’t I?
Everyone suffers, in their own way.
Everybody Hurts,
Sometimes.
Maybe all the time, now.
Maybe we just aren’t talking about it…
Enough.
Maybe we let shame and fear of vulnerability
Chase us all back back into our primordial cave
Of Collective Consciousness,
Maybe we’ve all just given up because
It’s tiring, all the wasted effort and false hoping
And trying to smile or take photos of our food
We’re drained.
Capitalism and Consumerism are BUILT for that,
Coincidence?
And they’ve done their job with expert precision:
We’re reaping what we sown for the last two Millenia.
Apocalypse NOW, Baby!!!
I am Satyricon,
And I’ve grown weary of shouting.
I lay down my arms,
Lay down the sword of words, of truth,
Of any discernment or judgement or
Anything else heavier than the air
I just keep futilely squeezing through my body.
I am weary to the bone.
I surrender.
If this Earth chooses to reclaim me I’ll let it
(as though there were ever a second option!)
But I rather suspect I’ll keep going;
If the first 40 years didn’t manage to kill me,
Well
There might be another 40 or so ahead.
So I remember now
That I long ago learned
Both
Why I stay tired
and
How to stay alive.