Finding Your Religion

Pick your personal Jesus, plus three questions for a pop princess and the poetry of heavy metal

But one genre has always stayed true to its roots. One genre doesn't pussyfoot around with slippery mental images, twee irony or stupid maps, unless they be of the infernal regions. I speak, of course, of metal.

I took the names of some death metal bands and made them into a few horrific haikus. My only guidelines were to follow the basic rules of haiku (five syllables first line, seven the second and five the third) and to incorporate at least one band's name in each line. With a couple of exceptions, I didn't use the same band name twice. Feast your puny eyes on these, mortal humans! Carve them into your skin with rusty blades!

(Crap, looking at these I see I cheated a little on the syllable count -- but hey, I'm not Japanese, and all I had to work with were the names of death-metal bands. Cut me some slack, haiku dorks! By the way, all band names are italicized.)

Scott Gilbert
Andrew Mac Pherson

Sweet Jane

It's the end of all
My forever is forgotten
I'm so far from Jane.


The divine empire impaled!
Statues cry bleeding!

Back Alley

This dying fetus,
From a second story window,
hurled into the moat.


Taste my hemlock
Someday Carolina,
and you'll suffokate.

Death Do Us Part

Twelve-gauge valentine!
The Arnolfini Marriage
is mutilated!

En Fuego

Mr. Hinkus was
Set ablaze by anal blasts.
High misery index!

Ah, Nature

She's six feet under,
gored by the Vampire Mooose, torn
Apart by horses.

I Want You!

Join or die, Pinhed!
Cerebral rot won't save you
the final burden.


My macabre meat shits,
my colon's misery signals,
steak's immortal remains.

Elimination No. 2, A Variation on a Theme

They are shed for you
anal blast meat shits burning
issue from my guts

Customer Service

"Kill the client!"
was my dire incantation,
his crimson massacre. -- John Nova Lomax

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