17
Apr 2021
A Farmer of Perdition
2008 version
The son of night and chaos, father of disruption
Emerges, a wooer of anguish
The farmer of perdition
Marches to the worlds above and beyond
To lay waste day and order
To end his bond
In his wake destruction will precede
The bacteria on surface
They shall bleed
They shall turn to madness, struck by blasphemy
As the Creator reveals
His sadistic epiphany
Realization will dawn, when it leaves your body
A wisp of consciousness, shimmering blue
Bow down to death as it becomes you
All that exists is cheap dribble
Promises of old, prayers written in gold
Kindergarten scribble
Violated and slain, history reaches its appendix
As the farmer of perdition-
Reveals his identity
Six, Six, Six
2025 book version
The Son of Night and Chaos,
Father of Disruption’s creed,
Emerges as the wooer of anguish,
The Farmer who sows with seed of need.
He marches to the worlds above and beyond,
To burn the day, to unmake the law,
To end the bond that once held still,
And reap what none have seen before.
In his wake, destruction blooms,
The surface teems with rot and dread,
The crawling hosts turn crimson mad,
By blasphemies their minds have fed.
The Creator’s mask at last is torn,
Revealing joy in cruelty’s play,
A sadist’s epiphany crowned in light,
While all the faithful waste away.
When life slips free from mortal clay,
A wisp of blue escapes the frame,
And Death steps forth to take its due,
To make all living bear his name.
All that exists is but a jest,
Promises of old in gold now fade,
History gasps its final breath,
Its corpse in silence laid.
The Farmer stands, his harvest done,
His name the world’s last whispered fix —
The number carved in every tongue,
Six. Six. Six.