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A poem to commemorate the 10th anniversary of the death (14th April) of Type O Negative’s Peter Steele

Steele Away The Night

A man of steel, a heart of gold

A gentle giant, oldest of souls,

But when summer turns to autumn

The October hues of gold and amber,

I’d tumble in the fallen leaves

If I could control my anger.

It was thir13teen less than zero

I was no longer the hero, 

So, I took a day trip

On Todd’s sailing ship,

No fear of God above all things,

In the flesh, I was such a mess

Some bizarre stereotype it was anybody’s guess.

While I was drunk in Paris

I realised the dream is dead,

I know that life is killing me

It’s not just in my head.

For now, I’m out of the fire

With these three things she burned me down

I’m defying the laws of nature

To be dead again above ground.

Nettie prayed for the wolf man

It was a symphony for the devil

As for the God of wine and revelry

Bacchus was out of sorts yet on the level.

I too will sip the red water

Served once upon a Christmas mourning,

Then wait for some stupid tomorrow

When everything dies without warning.

With his bloody kisses 

He would love you to death,

Let you rust in the summer rain

While the breeze takes away your breath.

Hey Pete, I know it’s never enough

A druidess on All Hallows Eve

We’d celebrate Halloween in Heaven

Had I the courage to believe.

Your cinnamon girl emerging

From the dark side of the womb

With a fiery lust to hate everyone

And a promise not to lose you.

Suspended in dusk

Tangled in blood, fire and lust,

I’m ablaze so you can absorb my eternal glow,

We’re treading on bad ground

But no one needs to know.

As I  watch the world coming down

Haunted, frozen; it’s much too late,

My silence misinterpreted 

I couldn’t know what was at stake.

I’d kill you tonight 

But I was in so much pain,

I know you’re fucking someone else

Now I don’t wanna be me,

I’m unsuccessfully coping with 

The natural beauty of infidelity.

But the flutter of your heartbeat

The softness in your voice,

Always pulls me back to you

It’s like I have no choice.

Bathe in the 12 black rainbows

Commiserate with the profit of doom,

If I was a Christian woman 

I’d bear the cross for you.

Azra Pathan

For Peter Steele – RIP

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