Dare you savour the rain, the salted thunderstorm

from the still waters of the midnight lake?

Would you waltz past the terrain of creation’s sparkling rave,

and sample the sorrow of a dreamer in the arms of nothingness?

You! What do you know about yourself

save the crumbs which herald the labour of your grave?

Would you laugh and praise the years of inherited nonsense,

or frolic insane to the Void womb of spheres twain?

~*~

Rain, the eternal autumn of the incising lens.

All life within a dream of a dreaming nullity which rests.

And it is this, this fractal light, this temporal chiming bell

which weeps and pains; for its very nature it cannot consign

to the embrace of the Genderless Mother

whose silence grieves and puzzles

even those of infernal descent.

Curse the nepenthe of thy balmy lips and goblet bittersweet.

Thy promises repulse me as do all sugary nothings.

Indolent thou flowest through the cavern of sleep,

and I cavort and carouse in my musings of befouling thee.

Wretched! Blasphemous!

Assassin of all triumph that has ever come to be!

Thee I exile by the very word

which breathed thee absurd and serene!

I deny thy power in the stretching sails

of a soul and songbird by art of ravenous will,

and dethrone the silent terror of the aeons at thy feet.

Grace my ears with the canticle of thy dead screams

as I hail with pandimensional fury

to the rise of Mnemosyne!

Maldición impredecible

Temida en lo alto y bajo

Tortura indefinible

Que conjura a la locura y los llantos

No te culpo, pero muerto te deseo

Porque a mí me has inmolado

Juego de plumas blancas

Te balanceaste sobre la estrella errada

Deseos inmensurables

De una razón en llamas

Promesas traicionadas

De ese caballero que tanto aclama

Por tu pasión y tu osadía

Yo te salvaré la vida

Me has visto agonizar

En el viento frío polar

De un vacío sin igual

Más nunca llegaste a vacilar

Y con crueldad animal

Me arrebataste los recuerdos

Y el poder andar

Cien violines alados haré tocar

En tu negro funeral

Semi-profano descomunal

Entre ilusiones y vergüenzas

Ahí te habrás de ahogar

Cubierto de estrellas

Y arenas de mar

Image by Willgard Krause from Pixabay

Raiding the skies for your ghostly light,

this twitching beserker wakes the Abyss

where all gates have gone to sleep.

Somewhere in this cradle of filth,

the rays of a sun reversed have injected me

with the venom of being.

Somewhere in this white darkness

burns the heart of a beast

whose claws’ only dream is to tear

all conception of idiocy.

Where are you!

You have left me here,

where the stars are the cause

of their own suffering.

Where are you?

How long will you hide from me

and deny me the medicine

of your silver anatomy?

~*~

Look, beloved, into the tidal string.

Thou hast forgot my image in no-time,

where all breaths breathe one memory!

Despair not, beloved.

Come with me into the new soil of being.

Plow the Earth with thy fanged fingertips,

and fertilize me with the might of cavernous conquering.

Sink three swords into the dirt,

and hold onto one as thy rest is confirmed.

“Oh, good grief! How you do stand the-“

“Shh. Shut up and swing about.”

~*~

In passing of breathing pain –

a seldom voiced weight –

what prevents the difference

from crawling up a wall

and sainting the rib

into the murals of history?

In behest of tantalizing,

how does the blurry,

little drawing pecker itself

into a cubicle of still pretense?

That bastard!

That animal of mortal sense

running around against itself!

Refuse now thou to bedrink this nepenthe;

for the goblets have not been shared equally;

for the breach which enshrines the gradual antipathy

cannot be quelled with silent screams

and musings of lucid reveries.

Nay!

Refuse now thou to drown this holy shadow.

O Madam Mine of Chronic Harrow!

Suffer not the nerve of the brazen maggot.

The abbot doeth not eat carrots,

and thou, queenly void of vast crown,

be sure not scarce to call out the pyre

which thy soul enshrouds.

Thus, the python uncoiled from the liminal cradle,

and kinship brought no solace to the heart

whose dialogue spits jewels of rotten marrow.

Image by ARLOUK from Pixabay

The Muse of Melancholic Fumes

uprooted the glass which incised the eye,

and with decorous hand,

escorted me back to the desert of impious minds.

I breathed in the sunlit sands with insurgent contempt

as the gentle Logos whispered tears of vigor worth to preserve.

My heartbeats raised in sickening waves

upon witnessing the mortification of inculcation

in the currents of fresh water unable to retaliate.

I ached and grieved from the shade of my parasol,

and longed for the maiden whose amphorae made the world flow.

Yet the star did not shine upon the barren land,

and I wondered who appointed the comatose to the front lines.

Image by Karen Smits from Pixabay

“O Harbinger of Death!


Thou who guisest in wise warm and red,

give ear to my supplications and cast not aside this faithful servitor.

Rise, Lady of Demise!

Thine is the scepter of will razor-sharp.

Thy love be manifest through the veins of wintry light,

thy fatal kiss a seal upon the forehead of this renegade

abhorring the despotic Nightmare White.

Rise, my Muse of War Delight!

Sing me a lullaby, and dispel the sway of the counterpart

that I may be made witness to the gnosis of the night.”

~*~

Dame Esurience bore through the flames of the fireplace, staining the floor with tar.

She sat by the windowsill as she punctured her skin with a silver needle and shrieked.

In the wake of her displeasure, Lady Rave convulsed her way out of her vessel.

“Needst thou disturb my rest?”

Shadows of non-pretense stacked behind the sleeper –

the conjuring of wrath past the starless ancient prison.

“Canst thou hear the cries of thy breed?

The seedling of thy deeds invokes the parentage of sublime conquering.”

Dame Esurience left the window in a whim

and danced upon the obscenity her visit had begotten.

“Quintessential beast of blackness unforgotten,

new blood reaches out for torment.”

“Cease, foul thing of human conscience!” Lady Rave snarled

with might of self-belonging.

“Leave this cave of wonders undiscovered and my justice yet unbroken.

Leave my cave of cosmic pathways.

Return to the master who thee gaveth breath and order.”

~*~

Star-dust, madness, fire!

Of being blinded I am tired!

Primeval Darkness, interlace my spirit and body.

Venerated home, engulf me with power.

Mother of Relentless Sempiternity – my pride, my bloodline –

claim me as yours as I thee pronounce mine.

Our union shall prevail for all time.

~*~

“Fool!” cried the viper of warfare

by fire, revenge, and mist of sway –

fury, madness, and eager to pain.

Thou hast invoked about the end.

Vera riseth to this place –

the titaness, the peerless grace.

Hers is a side where no soul findeth rest.

Thou hast chosen putrefaction

to polish the black diamond of the depths.

The scales weigh above thy head.

Truth will be the death of thy mortal shell.”



Dyad of faithful carnage —

dreadful muse of hidden talents amidst

the sight that blunders and mouth that blabbers!

If you must expunge this hoary heart, do it proudly.

You promise me the grave when dawn arises,

yet you elevate me through the air with laughter in every silence.

Erratic educator,

you’re the ambrosia for which gods rage afire —

an excuse to bedrink the sap of madness

and energise the being with nefarious kindling.

Nurturing vampire!

Illusion of lower handling!

In behest of passion passing,

tell me why you have conceived me

in the foul womb of your parent!

I disdained and disowned you.

I curse and love you.

Dyad of slaughter,

the field is paved with the deeds of your courage.

Have you no shame!

Descend from the aethers to say that you’re sorry!

These tears are the fruit of your dear screech —

the jewel purifier and alchemy of travelers

who confine themselves to find what they already lavish.

O Source of Refinement!

Forgive the ramblings of this bitter ancient child.

Hold me to your bosom of a million udders,

and do not shudder when I behead you with a scalpel

after the fumes of your empire have driven me wild!

Image by Rondell Melling from Pixabay

The wind whirled

through the hollow mountains and empty forests.

In the live gardens of dormancy,

its frolic met the shadow of its conscience.

The black wind rose and blew the carrion of hope

into the multifarious crevasses of the underworld;

for if there once stood a heart so pure,

the currents of Tartarus reclaimed parentage

over the zephyr most blithesome.

“O Bearers of Beauty and Paladins of Life’s Glow!”

roared the child of hidden thorns;

“Have you no sentiment for the suffering of the sickly nursed?

Woe betide your cowardice

as the world transpires under the vexing star of vacuity!

Lassitude unsurpassed dims the ancient fire and condones lies.

Where is the embrace of sweet night?

Where the dynamic current that transcends flesh and bypasses time?”

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay

In the breeze lies no breath

for which I extend my grip and forbear my weeping.

In every garden a pricking thorn

for every poignant rose worth keeping.

The tides wash over the sands of my soul –

wax me stagnant,

gorgonize me on the spot,

tease the ground so tarnished with the white execrable.

Erewhile it had not mattered,

but the name of her burst forth of every mouth

in the hopes the prayers were answered.

They knew not their saviour laid breathless and disarranged

at the bottom of the old stone well amidst the town square,

that I bled her to death with a pen to quench my thirst,

to spare myself of beholding her face.

Clouds had not ere brought about the darkness,

and pouring ceased not thereafter.

The sun had fallen into the land of the forgotten,

and in her stead a young black star was lauded.

The sun never tarnished, if you ever wonder.

The sun alone perished without warning.

Image by JL G from Pixabay

From the ashes of past

’till the shadow hereafter,

the wrath of my soul shall breathe you terror.

I will laugh and conjure the fire of the nameless stars

as I relish your agony and frolic in this crown of tar.

You let me down, little bird of the sky —

bound me to a life in silence.

You stringed my limbs as far as it could have lasted.

There’s nowhere to go in this world forlorn

for one who takes not the spear of divine role.

Caged in your own disaster,

you will yearn for my poison dagger.

The winds will deny your voice and swallow your words

as penitence for your narrow-mindness.

Give me your tears, Asinine of Unsuited Matters!

I shall drink the nectar transmuted in the entrails of your delightful mother,

and free the world as I drag you crestfallen.