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First Poetry Prize Winner - Summer 2013

is Nan Beeson

of Granada Hills, California





(Ode to Satan)


Oh, Satan, Mighty King of Tyrus, sitting so haughtily upon thy

crumbling rock of Tyre. Dost thou not know there art someone

mightier than thou?


Hast thou forgotten the majestic Queen of Babylon; the mighty

whore who consumed babies while waning in their mothers’ wombs?


Hast thou forgotten she wert falsely sanctified before thy

sperm cocooned in her womb?


Dos’t thou not comprehend this immoral dastardly Queen was both

the filthy conceiver and conceived?


Birthed from her egg from which thou emerged, thou shalt

boomerang into her contaminated womb, slithering filthily back

into it like a quivering, sniveling earthworm.


A fertile egg once falsely glorified with thy vile and venomous

fangs will lie dead and buried in the ground with its burnished

and shattered shell reviewing the illusion thou cast upon this

world for centuries.


Dost thou not know t’was from her womb thou wert cast for

wanting to share her crown; her imbecilic son who thought he

could overtake her majestic rule and sit on her thrown?


Thou need not snivel any longer, oh, mighty king of the thunder world,

for thou shalt get thy just reward cowering in the pit,

watching her hovering above the consuming flames like a fledgling

just hatched from its shell and drowning in its own yolk as are you.


Upon thy demise, the world shall know why the reek of thee

was so intense, for there is nothing more putrid than the stench of

a rotten egg! 
About the author:
Nan Beeson was born of Armenian Immigrants in East Los Angeles in 1926. The name on her certificate of birth was "Berchanouth." Her mother said it was not her name and did not know how it got there. To this day she does not know the etymology of the name and decided to call herself Nan.
They were very poor. Her father was a rubbish man and collected rubbish during the middle of the night while most people were sleeping. That is the only kind of job he could find because of illiteracy. Consequently, Nan grew up with holes in her socks and rundown heals. Her mother made her dresses made out of ruffles from the better fabrics she salvaged from rubbish. 
Her mother was a much younger bride than her husband and was forced to marry him as a child bride after the Turkish Holocaust when her entire family was exterminated and she fortunately escaped because her parents were wealthy and had enough gold to pay for her passage to the United States.
In 1956, she lost her beloved infant child and almost had a nervous breakdown. She went into hibernation for decades and studied the writings of the world religions hoping to find the answers. 
One day, in 1959 she found herself out of her body gazing down at herself. She did not know how it happened, but it was a frequent experience after that.
She saw in her inner vision writings descending from heaven on scrolls. She copied them as fast as she could in shorthand. She has over a hundred such writings as well as scripts. The attached poem (above) "Ode to Satan" is one of them.
At 87, she continues to see these scrolls when she closes her eyes as well as having experiences while out of her physical body in other dimensions and other time periods on this planet Earth.
Her quest since 1990 is to be a writer of controversial Bible stories and poetry.