Does your rib not bleed

upon the evil thought and deed

which perforates the tender skin

like a dagger of steel,

and sows its poison seed?

Does the willful sap

in ancient memory and current plea

frolic still in the garden of sleep

with blindfolds of faux amaranthe?

In meadows of lemongrass and chamomile,

in the imperious dome of make-belief

does the pendulum swing

at the mercy of the subtle winds.

And it is this, the giant of multifarious grieving,

which by percipient means stabs himself

and wonders why his pain is ceaseless,

and which by dulled eyes and hope

embraces the tango of the infinitely lost

to drown the torch which brings about

the reconciliation of all the ailments superimposed.

Image by Yakir from Pixabay

Amidst the ruins of an age dome

‘tween the grossest lordship of shapes most atrocious

and the boundless no-thing pre times immemorial,

let the ghastly, dreadful bump in the day

of insidious accounts in display

rot away and be cleansed in the pyre of black flames

which underlie the nature of supposed verity.

At the crossroads,

now awaken the symbolic coiler of Abyssinian currents,

anticipating skilful will and word and concept spoken.

At the crossroads,

now blink and consolidate the vortex of sight in divine right

with the longing beating heart which has bled and wept in dire light.

Awaken, beloved, and sever the surrogate hand

of petty and presumptuous regard.

Awaken now and behold thyself with fresh insight.

~*~

Will you rise

or will you cave into

the oblivious daytime night?

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.

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 Stefan Keller from Pixabay

Weariness that is not weary.

Determination raging no-where reflected.

Peace swelling the breaths of longing.

Laceration piercing through the veil of masking

in the sarcophagus of my own confinement.

Amidst the nails of sacrificing, rust carves flowers everlasting.

A solemn vow – simmering blood intoning the death of falling.

A simple reminder – a void of eyes in the white darkness.

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.”



Image by Jonny Lindner from Pixabay

In my mind, I simply behave as I like when I please.

In your head, I am the summary and reminder of the tears you’ve shed and the anxiety you’ve given yourself into.

It’s not my intention to aggravate your pain, and I often come to the conclusion that I innately know how to reflect your inner world to force you to face the shades of your dead.

Not for a moment fool yourself with the thought that your words or deeds can affect me. Only you will suffer the whole price for your nescience and your insolence.

Yelling, taking offense, won’t make your turmoil go away. The more you resist, the more the themes that tint the walls of your consciousness will be projected onto your surroundings.

You will see me and others enact your fears and your blockages until you decide to convert them and use them to propel you toward the next stage of personal evolution.

Whatever you do, I will observe impervious.

You will display your most child-like behaviour when I break down to you your mental processes as you’ll feel denuded before the imposing truth with no way to retaliate against it.

You think your age validates your comportment.

Before my eyes, you are but a snot of life who was never taught to rise above the detrimental patterns of the sleeping rusty ones.

For once, ever since you were birthed into this world of lies, ponder upon the reasons behind your impulses, and stop hiding from your internal problems.

Do yourself a favour.

Know yourself before you engender a monstrosity you will later regret.

Assaulted from the streams of craftily void-bedighted melancholy, a common man most strange set my insides on fire. The urge to walk away rivalled me at first, yet I won once I told myself that his lips I would claim.

Image by Prawny from Pixabay

The hissings of deflection echoed as the deviant moon weaved tales in my head.

“Danger!” they said. “Intoxication and dread!”

Some may argue that temptation had a role in this play, yet I say it was curiosity that drove me past the edge.

I wished to unravel the potential held in his spring-like cage.

I rose from the Underworld as a hunter for the prey.

Choirs of roses and chrysanthemums beclothed me as I danced above the frozen waters and stiff air.

The common man still strange reveled in the image of my luminous threads, bewitched by the songs that my soul firmly did reflect.

But fascination does not guarantee comprehension in a person.

To my picture, he cast his own ever disregarding with stupendous affright and unwavering creed the sinister light with whom he did speak.

As heartening and liberating as the strings of my instrument sounded, the essence of the message dissolved before the gates of his own encagement.

Image by Prawny from Pixabay

“You are my call and vocation”, he used to say, “but your words make and make no sense”.

In his narrow perception, my vision was untamed a will o the wisp most stubborn waiting for ground to lay and rest.

I foretold forthcoming pain. This man this walking flame breathed dead in his green meadow’s weight.

As captivated as I was, my judgement held onto me tight. Thus, in an April night, a full moon shone bright and to her I gave my woes and sang:

“If you must depart from me, leave.

If that is so, then let me go.

Just remember I was genuine”.

The saline ocean of my eyes poured to purify my being as indifference planted her seed in my soil of sleen.

May trailed in nonchallantly its rains a remainder of what I gave away as the common man ever strange ran away when my mind he could not overtake.

In my own unconcern, a part of me was not at rest. Detachment and the disrespect of a child most strange waged war within myself in the search of a balance that seemed too far away.

I embarked in the endeavour to slay the raging beast of my inlands, and with a chalice at hand, I sang anew at midnight.

Cardinal fire with earthly stare

saw a little flower and lost his head.

Saw the Abyss right through her eyes,

but could not hold the maelstrom inside.

~*~

Walking flame that burnt so bright,

met with Darkness, drowned himself in the tarry waters of the depths.

The night was witness to their descent,

and the daemoness sang in hazel duet:

“I let you go.

I let you go.

Despite it all, I let you go.

Go find yourself.

Go find your peace.

Clearly – visibly – my thorns are too rough for your skin”.

Image by Prawny from Pixabay

By lordly will, peace spread her tentacles and embraced me. Submerged in perfect apathy, I foresaw the man’s return.

With an injured head and grasping onto his last hope, he came to me for the nourishing of the spirit and the soul. In his exhausted vessel, he rose and wept before me that I may forgive his transgression.

“Fool!” he said, “I am a fool beyond consideration!”

“A fool indeed,” said I, “but I will look past this indignation”.

Despite my impartiality toward the matter, I chose to stay and see the direction of the case. In cold desire, I observed and learnt human behaviour. And, as habits of the lost go, this man most strange this walking flame ran away again when truth proved too strong for him to take.

Now, I had seen the cycle ’till the end. I returnt to my abode laughter in my core and erased all the trails that may lead to my door were the irresolute infant in a man’s shadow to return with promises that he cannot hold.

Image by Prawny from Pixabay