The Sounding Memory

Image by jplenio from Pixabay

Seven tears doeth the maiden weep

down into the sea.

Harp in hand,

gentle strokes carry her will

through the waveless deep

and to the sky starlit.

Seven pleas doeth her heart seep,

fading into the scenery.

Seven years since her beloved

donned his skin and disappeared

to be with the fish.

XIII (Crimson Reversed)

Image by Prawny from Pixabay

Eyes of sorrow, sweetest lips.

They bring the truth to the crevices asleep.

Oh, come to embrace them –

the arms of death.

Come in pleasure to the gravest of fates.

~*~

This love, born of past and star-gaze, brimmed with life as alive was the ulcer of the sealed gate. I could have spent an eternity from peering into his ancient eyes to crafting ways to keep him warm to fancying about many a way to beclothe him with caresses upon losing myself in the outlines of his vessel.

~*~

Melancholy’s inexorable tides washed over the sands of my soul. I drifted and kept on drifting. In sanctified sorrow, I writhed and yearned for that which I could not summon into mind. I brooded over by the dark corners and silent spots, and hid the storm from the common eye until my flaming heart, too, wilted into the covetous mouth of the void.

~*~

And you still wonder why I sleep with skeletons.

And he still grieves the sword you sent before the earth closed.

Dark I of Light Graveyard

Hollow eyes –

caves of wonder and mournful secrets –

speak through the lips of lament.

Lay thy corpse before me,

that I bestow unto thee relief

and crown thee unearthed and acknowledged.

Gypsy, Queen of the Salt Realm of Melancholy,

come through the glass and don thy smile.

Sway in my arms, my beauty oriental,

be that wild mane of thine

the promise of love instrumental.

Take off the mask,

that our heartbeats echo as one,

and let thy mist invigorate me

upon this hour of self-induced demise .

Primal being,

give thyself to me in thy upmost glory.

Muse of my desires, my ghoulish sweet!

Stand by me,

and let us heed

the ancient calling of the Abyss.

For Whom the Shadows Sing

Image by Karen Smits from Pixabay

The skeleton is scattered upon the old carpet.

The closet’s door is blown to shards,

and blood is splashed on the wall.

It trickles down to the spinning floor.

‘Twas I who dragged out the bones –

for retribution, for pain, for a love much higher than the taught self.

And I look at myself,

“Who shall hoist thee better than thyself?

Nay.

Break thyself.

Return to the earth

through the sacred fire of willful vision and rise, dear Phoenix!

Rinse the ashes off thy vibrant plumage,

and continue where the fight challenged thee last”.

Womb Liturgy

Image by Bruno /Germany from Pixabay

Come to feel my heavy heart

as I bleed for you tonight.

Come to soothe my laments

as I stand for you in Light.

I run to you to die,

for there is mercy in your arms.

No love compares to yours, Forgotten Mother of the World!

Come to me, my shrine — my haven, my heart!

Sing me a lullaby,

and guard me with your mind.

Embosom me, Endless Dark!

Kiss me into your essence sublime.

Release me from the chains that keep away the Night.

Of Hollowed & Hallowed

If by virtue of love

I come to hold thee close,

my darling rose,

let thy petals guide the way

back to the master of hope.

Make the wind

the charioteer of my spleen –

the silken and sweet wish

of an eternal alchemist.

If by virtue of love

we abide within the all,

my precious soul,

the forest lore

indigenous to the core

shall unveil the jewels between worlds.

Whispers and echoing tones

shall join the carnival of glamour

in its seductive call of sandalwood and dragon’s blood.

Elegy for the Eidolon Heart

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.”

Primal Call

Image by ArtTower from Pixabay

I walk the warmth-lit meadows of life at a time

just to abide under the ghostly shine of your charm.

Darkened clouds robbed you from me tonight

as I curled up in the arms of winter unabashed.

I shall bathe in the January rain of your wake

and purify my being from the illusion of the light.

You shall still enact the verity of the stars

and lull the thorn in sight,

that beauty be manifest through the veins of soul delight.

Embrace me and intone the rite of sprite

in spite of the graveyard upon which your face is cast.

I’ll dance amidst the rings of silvery might

if you face and remind me of that which came to pass.

Venture into the hidden paths, my distant confidant.

Your opposite child grins upon the solar crown of midnight.

Romance of Thorns

Image by SvetlanaKv from Pixabay

Noble violin, take me on your strings

and gallop beyond the wind

of the tall grass and wheat fields.

In mornings like these,

your tears are honey drops

from the eaves of heartache.

Noble violin,

dance with me the waltz of sadness.

In shadows like these,

your manuscript bittersweet

announces the funeral of vision dazzled.

Take me home,

where the Castle of Night holds the crown of soul.

Take me home,

where I know I’m the silence between my thoughts.

Impressions of Dust and Smokeless Fire

Pinnacles hold the stage for the bright moon as the rocks cast a shadow upon the shore. The salty waves caress the sand —warm still— on which I sit. The invisible flute rattles the fiend in me who dares to feel, bidding me to relive a romance buried in the dunes of a far away land. But what fate does this love hold for one such as I? The snake charmer portends the essence suppressed by ages of dense life. The sleeping sorrow dreams reveries of blood and daylight, yet the observer holds no memory of that which came to pass.

Cross of the Counter-Swan

Softly, you creep into my skin.

The euphoria of an abandoned wish

is the scent you torment me with

as I look into your eyes and see myself

staring back through the mass of tar and intimate regard.

I see you dance upon the carcass of time with merry remarks

ere you whisper in my ears that you’re mine by decree of bloodline.

My spirit hums at the presence of your touch;

still, as I let myself descend through your tunneling caress,

I flee from your embrace whilst my shell tears apart;

for the start of a feverish wont sunrise licks my wounds

to have me bleed and quench the subtle brute athirst

with the passion of a hound.

You yell out my name frenzied and crowned.

I turn my back and feel my tears abound.

With every step I take, away from your domain, I pray for your forgiveness

as I daydream of a time

when you and I will walk side by side.

For now, suffer me to depart.

I will return to you

when the primeval spring meets the secular in art.

The union of scorching hands will be the bridge

for our longing hearts.

You and I will be one

by decree of bloodline and ardor sublime.

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!

The Strange Case of the Orthodox Charm

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