A collection of poetry by Ez Jalin. All rights reserved.

Rasputin the Mystic

Oh dear Rasputin
Sweet scent of lust
Roses fall from the ground
In favor of the star of the dawn

Dear Rasputin, the star of the land
The blood of the virgins in the chalice
Magick erotica; the book of shadows
The night arrives, the circle summons

Call forth the demons; innocents die
Children are dead, sacrificed to Molech
Mammon shall come, leaders of the dark
The beasts are feasting, satisfy their indulgence

Oh dear Rasputin, star of the land
Son of the morning is your master
Priests in robes adore your beauty
But your heart is frailed; placed a sigil

Oh dear Rasputin, sweet scent of lust
Smelled from below rather than above
Graveyard widened, throw them inside
Let death hath their veils for damnation

Son of the morning, star of the dawn
The plagues and wars amending disaster
Rasputin is a code, devil in disguise
Magick erotica, inner ritual sanctioned

Endtime Prophetic Oracle

Harlots were chosen among the nobles
Prostitutes who prosecuted and chained
The workers and laborers of the field
Suffered through the heat of flames
And sulfur, devouring their own bones
Their bloods cried out in the vineyard
Like Abel’s upon murdered by his brother

Harlots were chosen among the nobles
They sold their bodies off for gold
For power, fame and statuses
Where the workers and laborers
Fed with the crumbs under the table
Like a stray animal that seeks to survive

Darwinian’s tale came alive
Among the lowly and powerful
The deities looked upon the people
Devotees prayed for a fix in the system
Lo and behold, many are ignorant
Thinking it’s worthless to seek redemption

Justice is calling, mercy is seeking
Collective voices of the people
Asking for favor from the heavens
Where God opens a page for leaders
To march against the odds in our world
For the sake of grace to triumph

Let the weak, the poor, the blind
Rejoice over liberation and hope
Let the harlots be dethroned
From the nobles to be chosen
Let the voiceless have a voice
To be heard in the wilderness

Harlots were chosen among the nobles
They murdered our prophets, put the apostles
Into prison for speaking out for justice
For the truth to prevail in the midst of heartbreaks
They suffered, martyred, and disillusioned
Until the next idealist arrive to retain
Their struggle and faith for the new dawn


Cold is the winter air blowing
To my deepest point of being
The heat that came only hibernated
The body that became the vessel
Summer was the days where
Refiner’s fire washed me plain
In the dead thirst of my throat
Thus, the season of parallels

Isn’t the season I belonged
But it came and it left
One in unity to suck out my soul
Like Dementor’s festive parties
Against the witches that betrayed
The coven for allegiance to the Holy Spirit
Paralleled, my soul, has become
Lost in the slimy dimmed dungeon
Praying that I may find ways to flee
Purgatory in the Dante’s dream

Psalm 130

Out of the depths, O Lord, I cried
My tears are running within
Never outward but roars of anguish
Am I fully depraved? Have I failed?
I know my soul’s destined for Sheol
Though You made heaven for Your sake
But the rooms, the banquets are prepped
For me to inhibit with delight at the end

Have I inflicted Your heart with sin and agony?
As my parents have said of me in my journey
Have I given nothing but selfish ambition?
As how the people have said of who I am
Have I done nothing out of humility?
As how my friends and family have said of me
Who am I, O Lord, that I should be given grace?
I should’ve died in my pride, in the midst of pain

Should I stay further? Should I leave aside these people?
Should I go before You, face to face, as how my soul desires
I hate the world and all of its contents in favor of Your Kingdom
To be seen, to be honored, to be built, to be longed for by Your people
I can’t deny You, neither can’t I judge You, nor can’t I condemn You
For Your actions, Your thoughts, Your plans, Your words; they’re good
So, hear the sorrows of my heart! Out of the depths, O Lord, I cried
My tears are running within, my tears…are running within


Cold is the heart where the blood flows
Pushing through the veins underneath the sun
Binding through the blood clots to go under
Until the heart stops beating, the soul departs

Where the underworld is, the soul departs
Hell: Fire and brimstones are the devil’s ground
Perdition awaits the children of evil one
As the saints, preserved, the reprobates, dispersed

In every child’s play, a Savior saves
The wrath of the Father crucified the Son
Cast our weary souls before the cross
Where the Lamb replaced our depraved hearts

Turn to the Father, turn to the Son, turn to the Spirit
Find Him, kiss Him, honor Him and lest He be angry
Love the sinner to death, hate the sin to its end
The Father forgives and His children forgiven

Rosary Devotion

A cold-hearted life is what I pursued
Needing prayers but find myself excused
God is with me but I’ve never felt like a saint
Just to compromise my act, self-indulgence in my sin

I guess the same applies to every other being
Walked through the valley, friending shadows of deceit
Decided for our paths, only God can change the option
We who are incapable shouldn’t be holier than the other

I’m an Anglican, Charismatic, Baptist, Calvinist
In a huge darkened act of a practical atheist
Desiring God on Sunday, disbelief on Monday
Piper sound the pipes, MacArthur’s flew in rage

God knows why the world has fallen
God knows why the blood spilled silent
I guess the mother knows how to be a servant
Thus, her name was proclaimed in replacement

I sing through the Psalms like a Brethren
Liturgical like a Catholic, raged like a Conservative
Facts don’t care about feelings, neither truth is
Presupposition kills like how a cigarette is lit

Talk to the world of the Gospel, paint your theology
But a heart of failure is a heart frail of election
Do as many words of repentance by works
My soul longs only for The One and Only

Graveyard Shift

I heard there’s no other way
To find ourselves saved in the mirror
Apart from the wounds of God in this terror
The horror of sin is worse than your own vengeance

Smells of hellish ventilations, sporadically spread
In the misery of thoughts, we’re glorifying the dead, yes
Love the sin but hate the sinner, love the sinner but hating sin
I fear God only, not everybody, a motto that glues deep inside of me

Going Home

Thus, blooming flower deadened in the midst of a night
Winter’s coming to me when the summer has fallen
Pounding heart lured to a new song of thunder
Fear and trembling when the day passes another
When will the daylight comes for the garden?
When will the leaves revived to their colors?
Should I lament enough until I see them flourished?
Should I pray harder and make my body’s nourished?

Though I walk through the valley, God is carrying me
God really loves me even when death is pushing
I see myself burning but He told me there’s a room
Made by the scarred hands and many parts of wounds
Hanged in Golgotha, don’t leave me alone
I made the Akeldema a place for betrayal
Help me, Lord, I’m just a sinner in need of grace
To suffice to this life again

So, I will stand alone in the midst of darkest nights
I will bleed by the spears that stabbed deep in my heart
Let me die alone in the shabby thoughts that run
Under the depraved soul that won’t last
Cremated in the fire, to dust, I’ll rise
Jesus, wounded by the sin, will come
Where I would go when I bend the otherwise
Heaven’s wide open when hell is flaming bright

For a sinner, justified, walked the path of God
Woe is my afterlife, just take me now, God
What a cycle to endure, I have to pay the price
Just another route agonizing through my words
Just the matter of time to count my own actions
I’ve fallen from the grace so many times
Fingers are pointing, never lived my life right
Bereft from being righteous, consumed by the tide

Far from being a saint, such is this bitterness
It has never been the same, such is this idleness
White flags, flying half mast, in the name of legacy
Remembering the dead underrated man like me
Shofar blows like Jericho, a sign of victory
Against the devil like me, they’re triumphant indeed
Let me go to hell and suffer burns for eternity
Let me die in agony and judged by the King of Kings

Elected to perdition, thus, my soul in composition
I’ll celebrate to leave behind such manipulation
So, I will stand alone in the midst of darkest nights
I will bleed by the spears that stabbed deep in my heart
Let me die alone in the shabby thoughts that run
Under the depraved soul that won’t last
Cremated in the fire, to dust, I’ll rise
Jesus, wounded by the sins, will come

I Lift Up My Eyes

I lift up my eyes
Above the hills under the sky
Where does my help
Come from…

When I need a shelter
To shove me under the heavens
Where I could hide in God’s presence
To witness the might and wonder
Of God the Creator

Father, Son, Holy Spirit
The Holy Trinity
That we’ve spoken for centuries
What do we see, out of this?


Our mouths shout “holy, holy, holy”
For the Lamb has given victory
But our hearts are far away from it

How long do we have to be astray?
Before the Shepherd comes to take
Our souls to home from the dungeon
The prison that we’ve brought ourselves in

Our help comes from the Lord
Where we thought He only listens
When our hearts were jolly
But we’re wrong to believe it
That’s heresy to begin with

What is hidden from God?
Before His eyes
There is nothing hidden
From all His sight
Underneath the sun
Where the universe
Is centered under the light

The fire, it overcomes the darkness 
Nothing can undermine it
For there is no shadow
Beneath it…

Where it all comes under one galaxy
This is God’s wisdom, part of the mystery
Before we were born in it
The earth rotates, round shaped

For the glory of God is men fully alive
And men fully alive, it means us
To not just to survive but to thrive
In the glory, and for the glory of God
For the Almighty God uses man
Not to survive but to give us the liberty
To glorify His Name as one

But above all, that the cross
Was given to remind us
Of how He came and died for us
To set us free from our dusts
That we know where would the light shines

Behold, Jesus is the Light
The Bright Morning Star
Prophesied by Joel and Isaiah
And we can have this fire ignite
Deep inside within us…

So, when you lift up
Your eyes to see the sky
To breathe your words out
From your lungs
Ask yourself:
Where does your help
Come from…
For there is none other 
Than the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth