Ave Dolor – Joy of the Damned

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!

Velvet Strife

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?”