Morning Poem by Samael Wolf

Wake and begin the crawl

join the mindless procession

while wondering about it all

is this how animals feel

on their way to be slaughtered?

Its no wonder why they simply give up

lie down in their own excrement

knowing all is futile

death is at hand.

among the moos and bleats

and wails of mortal pain

waiting to be skinned alive

The smell of death is in the air today

the silent stalker that some can feel

Yes feel the icy presence

invisible yet you can feel its gaze

upon you, gripping you like a vise

'Begone you beggar! '

' I have no time for your game! '

I have told Death this many times,

the last time he nearly won.

But I know that I will not give up

that I refuse to lay in my excrement

or listen to the wails of pain

coming from the flock.