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  • How old am I:
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  • Kazakh
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  • I’ve got big blue eyes
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  • My body type is plump
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  • Latin
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Rise of Empire Your Favorite General.


Add to list. Aleister Crowley Follow. Leah Sublime. Leah Sublime, Goddess above me!

Snake of the slime Alostrael, love me! Our master, the devil Prospers the revel. Tread with your foot My heart til it hurt! Tread on it, put The smear of your dirt On my love, on my shame Scribble your name! Spit on me, scarlet Mouth of my harlot! Now from your wide Raw cunt, the abyss, Spend spouting the tide Of your sizzling piss In my mouth; oh my Whore Let it fart, let it pour!

You stale like a mare And fart as you stale; Through straggled wet when You spout like a whale. Splash the manure And piss from the sewer. Down to me quick With your tooth on my lip And your hand on my prick With feverish grip My life as it drinks— How your breath stinks!

Feel my prick stand! Your life times from lewd Little girl, to mature Worn whore that has chewed Your own pile of manure. Your hand was the key to— And now your celia me, too! Rub all the much Of your cunt on me, Leah Cunt, let me suck All your glued gonorrhea! Cunt without end!

Cunt, you have sucked Up pricks, you squirted Out foetuses, fucked Til bastards you blurted Out into space— Spend on my face! Rub all your gleet away! Envenom the arrow. May your pox eat away Me to the marrow. Cunt you have got me; I love you to rot me! Spend again, lash me!

Leah, one spasm Scream to splash me. Stab your demoniac Smile to my brain! Soak me in cognac Cunt and cocaine; Sprawl on me! Sit On my mouth, Leah, shit! Shit on me, slut! Creamy the curds That drip from your gut! Greasy the turds! Dribble your dung On the tip of my tongue! Churn on me, Leah! Twist on your thighs! Smear diarrhoea Into my eyes! Splutter out shit From the bottemless pit. Turn to me, chew it With me, Leah, whore! Vomit it, spew it And lick it once more. We can make lust Drunk on disgust.

Splay out your gut, Your ass hole, my lover! You buggering slut, I know where to shove her! Bugger you, slut Bugger your gut! Wriggle, you hog!

Wrench at the pin! Wrench at it, drag It half out, suck it in! Scream, you hog dirt, you! I want it to hurt you! Belch out the dirt From your Syphillis soul. Splutter foul words Through your supper of turds! May the Devil our lord, your Soul scribble over With sayings of ordure!

Call me your lover! Slave of the gut Of the arse of a slut!

Call me your sewer Of spilth and snot Your fart-sniffer, chewer Of the shit in your slot. Call me that as you rave In the rape of your slave.

Let me come Alostrael—Fuck! Eat it, you sow! Swallow it now! Rest for a bit!

Satan, you gave A crown to a slave. I am your fate, on Your belly, above you. I swear it by Satan Leah, I love you. Like 3 12 Clever piece Enjoyed it Great Like 3. Jesus this is intense.

This poem seems to redline pretty quickly and then just slams the reader right there in that extreme moment Then it delivers exhaustion, and then the impossible plea to ride the rollercoaster again. I don't know Crowley, I just don't know if I can buckle up again.

Barry Hodges - What a great poem! Eliot; at least when it comes to rhythm. Yet all sexual ritual is a transcendent sacrament, whether or not one realises it. A case in point - the so-called 'fetish scene' today is largely populated by hedonists, attracted like moths to a flame by an aesthetic and the promise of pleasures unheard of.

Fuelled by psychedelics and lust, little do they know what vein of magick they feed and that feeds upon them! Let them continue blindly in my good works. Xix-Iconoclast-xiX - Aliester is reknown for one upping any who try to out smut him, out gross him. And I must say, although not the best of his works, or even teh grosses or most extreme, it is still a fine example of his works. And to think.

Some call him the mages of the knew Aeon. Lucifer's own Jesus Christ. The beast A true and worthy saviour by the standards of the coming of enlightenment. For one would need one as he to shock and offfend til the time that all that is shocking and offending is soon realized to be just words and hold no real power. It is all of the self and the power of 1,3,11,16,9! Save me know from the abstract and nonentity of the most dull and bored!!!

Oh lord.

That's truly horrific. This correction will restore the internal rhyme with "cognac".

Comments from the archive

Correction done! Disgusting but heartfelt. The man was insane. But he loved her. Luciferschild - kind of classy but in a smutty and sick kind of way, alot of references to satan and drugs, i liked those the best on Jun 17 AM PST x edit.

Crowley despised and rebelled against his family at every turn, even renaming himself 'Aleister' to avoid sharing the same first name as his father, who passed away when Crowley was Share it with your friends:. Make comments, explore modern poetry. today for free! up with Facebook. Whose woods these are I think I know. Ware, nor of good nor ill, what aim hath act?

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