Tristan Robert Lange
Nigrum Pactum
VI.
Stare
at
me.
I am your god,
reflecting who you are,
You know who
‘WV I
But you want me
d
e
coded
to look pretty.
I am not your pet, ch i l d.
My beauty is
your
d
e
s
truct
i
o
n.
Your heart is my horns—
pounding—HARDened.
You punish with pain.
My eyes
are your
e
r
o
s
i
o
n.
My maned muzzle
Is your merriment
In manipulation.
My cloven hooves?
Your only rightful claim.
Kneel.
I am your speculum mortale.
Look!
Face the one you worship!
V.
thud clomp
creak scrape
Don’t you wish to see?
Lose your restrictions.
Sign here, on the dotted line.
How delicious. Like an apple.
Do you desire to
Shed the skin of Eden?
thud clomp
creak scrape
thud clomp
creak scrape
Tell me, child,
What do you covet?
Your dream. My doing.
Just sign here. Nigrum Pactum.
Tell me what you long for.
IV.
Follow me my sweet child.
I can see the black goat,
Hulking, a beast, bastard-born,
It calls to me.
Where is it heading?
Why in there?
I walk worrisome,
Horrified, hesitant…
Didst you not say you wanted
To dine deliciously—
To sup at superiority’s table—
To eat from the enigma of inequality?
Yes. I am sick.
I am sick with being slighted.
I am sick with others—
Like parasites—
Gorging off of what ought to be
Mine.
I follow.
III.
In church today, my pastor said we have to put on the armor of God, that we cannot be swayed by the world, that Satan is running around on the prowl, waiting to wreck and devour us. Surely, he’s right. The way this wicked country is heading, those gosh darn pinko commies. The woke left just wants to run this dang country in the ground.
The late summer sun
Sets on my little homestead;
Hearts should be burdened.
This country is going to fucking shit, forgive me Lord, but you know I am right. We’re giving way to such evil. Men with men, women with women, and those confused people that don’t know what the hell they are. Satan’s having his hedonistic heyday right now, and I have to be strong. I have to put on that armor. I have to make sure nothing penetrates this heart. NOTHING.
Darkness stretches out
Over the swooning season;
A crisp air settles.
The world calls this hate, but I hate this world. So they can call it what they want. I am going to follow my beliefs, my faith, my worldview because it comes from the Word. Did not the Bible teach an eye for an eye? Did not the Bible teach love only exists between a man and a woman? Didn’t the Bible teach that men are the head and women should respect that? Didn’t the Bible teach no marijuana, no tattoos, no piercings? Didn’t it tell us to obey our masters? Yet, this world is exploding with debauchery and disobedience.
Across the dark way,
In the grassy shadowland,
A black goat appears.
II.
I see myself as good,
Not perfect, I do sin;
Still, if Christ came, I would
Follow, hell will not win.
Not perfect, I can sin,
But God has called me here.
Follow, hell will not win,
Satan has me to fear.
God has but called me here
To own libs and the weak;
Satan has me to fear:
Throw empathy in a creek.
To own libs and the weak;
If Christ still came, I would
Throw empathy in a creek.
Christ sees my heart as good.
I.
I stand on the precipice of man’s revelation.
Fall’s chill hits like odorous breath
Stings nostrils with death.
Yawn—mourning:
Boring.
No
Faith.
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.