John Constantine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
goldenfailure) wrote2030-03-20 06:07 pm
goldenfailure) wrote2030-03-20 06:07 pm
The Magus Constantine
In Liverpool in fifty-three, John Constantine was born
From mortal birth in blood and pain, he rose, a golden dawn
His father was a poor man and he could never know
That from his careless seed, such a strange tree would grow
His roots were in the work-worn lives that trudged in monochrome
His father had no time to give, he was hardly ever home
But this golden boy he passed his youth in a place inside his head
Finding the paths between lives and truth where others feared to tread
He had the look, his neighbors said; old before his time
Eyes that read you like a book and knew your secret crime
He was the pride of his family but love was tinged with fear
Where others cried to show their hurt, he'd never shed a tear
He'd just smile at them and draw inside with thoughts he'd never tell
The priest was sure he was meant for God if he hadn't come from hell
In class his teachers praised him as a credit to their school
But he knew their approbation for the faint praise of fools
And then one day, in sixty-eight, he turned and walked away
The world lay at the feet of fate and he would have his say
Now came the years of mystery, spent seeking ancient arts
The time of preparation, before our history starts
In seventy-five he found me and pulled me from the brink
He made me his and after that he would not let me sink
I was there in Newcastle when inferno claimed his arm
I saw him laugh in Hades' maw and chant the magic psalm
I crouched in feeble terror, in the shelter of his spell
While he sneered back at Satan and calmly vanquished Hell
Sister Astra's was the soul that he then struggled for
But since that time it's been his goal to inspire many more
Throughout the nineteen-eighties he journeyed far and wide
Pouring oil upon the churning elemental tide
Without his light to guide me, I blundered carelessly
But yet he came and rescued me from my stupidity
Whether from Hell's demons - devouring lust and greed
The Mnemoths and the Nergals, who thrive upon our need
Or from some cruel oppression of human violence
To all of us who called on him he offered sure defense
Remember now the nineties - the catastrophic years
When fundamental hatred howled about our ears
We'll keep the faith and follow his mystical design
On to the shining future of the Magus Constantine
And when the Earth convulsed and screamed that Man had gone too far
Who led the pagan nation from the flood to Ravenscar?
And while, since then, we've thrived and grown safe within his peace
Who tirelessly employed his art? Whose struggle could not cease?
Until today he chose his time to leave without farewell
Perhaps to rest - more like to fight some yet unconquered Hell
For he has never failed our trust, or made a move in error
His whole life has been the proof that love defeats all terror
And though he's dead, what other choice but onwards in his wake?
Our lives are his memorial, our spirits will not break
We'll keep the faith and follow his mystical design
On to the shining future of the Magus Constantine
- By Gary Lester, year unknown
From mortal birth in blood and pain, he rose, a golden dawn
His father was a poor man and he could never know
That from his careless seed, such a strange tree would grow
His roots were in the work-worn lives that trudged in monochrome
His father had no time to give, he was hardly ever home
But this golden boy he passed his youth in a place inside his head
Finding the paths between lives and truth where others feared to tread
He had the look, his neighbors said; old before his time
Eyes that read you like a book and knew your secret crime
He was the pride of his family but love was tinged with fear
Where others cried to show their hurt, he'd never shed a tear
He'd just smile at them and draw inside with thoughts he'd never tell
The priest was sure he was meant for God if he hadn't come from hell
In class his teachers praised him as a credit to their school
But he knew their approbation for the faint praise of fools
And then one day, in sixty-eight, he turned and walked away
The world lay at the feet of fate and he would have his say
Now came the years of mystery, spent seeking ancient arts
The time of preparation, before our history starts
In seventy-five he found me and pulled me from the brink
He made me his and after that he would not let me sink
I was there in Newcastle when inferno claimed his arm
I saw him laugh in Hades' maw and chant the magic psalm
I crouched in feeble terror, in the shelter of his spell
While he sneered back at Satan and calmly vanquished Hell
Sister Astra's was the soul that he then struggled for
But since that time it's been his goal to inspire many more
Throughout the nineteen-eighties he journeyed far and wide
Pouring oil upon the churning elemental tide
Without his light to guide me, I blundered carelessly
But yet he came and rescued me from my stupidity
Whether from Hell's demons - devouring lust and greed
The Mnemoths and the Nergals, who thrive upon our need
Or from some cruel oppression of human violence
To all of us who called on him he offered sure defense
Remember now the nineties - the catastrophic years
When fundamental hatred howled about our ears
We'll keep the faith and follow his mystical design
On to the shining future of the Magus Constantine
And when the Earth convulsed and screamed that Man had gone too far
Who led the pagan nation from the flood to Ravenscar?
And while, since then, we've thrived and grown safe within his peace
Who tirelessly employed his art? Whose struggle could not cease?
Until today he chose his time to leave without farewell
Perhaps to rest - more like to fight some yet unconquered Hell
For he has never failed our trust, or made a move in error
His whole life has been the proof that love defeats all terror
And though he's dead, what other choice but onwards in his wake?
Our lives are his memorial, our spirits will not break
We'll keep the faith and follow his mystical design
On to the shining future of the Magus Constantine
- By Gary Lester, year unknown