Nocturne Shimmering

Image by Ina Hoekstra from Pixabay

Crystal diamonds in cello night by piano notes.

Kaleidoscopes of hidden sweetness dancing

On the blackened walls of turmoil.

Here I see you, brilliant ballerina.

Spell of poison kiss,

Your lips and myrrh weave tales

In this shadow trance procured

By shield from daylight wrath.

And here you dance in my arms,

Fruitful lover who by sinuous tongue

Parts the gates of bliss with longing.

Feel me here,

The breathing memory

Of ageless cognizance –

Trails of love mid-air swirling

Under pale moonlight and wordless lyrics.

Feel me here,

In nocturne reflections

By the fish-pond

Hunting after visions of soul:

Eternal home.

No More

Image by Prawny from Pixabay

Sky-lit serene

This eve doth sweep

My bosom clean.

In the alcove antique

Betwixt seen and unuttered,

Obsolesce the face of longing;

For the driving principle of becoming

The world teareth asunder –

In unmerciful carnage,

In unhinged disowning.

Sky-lit serene

Here toll the bells

Of truthful clawing.

Dark pit and primal donning

Ritualize the ways of knowing,

And the enslavement of the dove’s feet

Doth cry in rightful crowing

For the aberrant undaunted.

Sky-lit serene

This eve doth sweep

My bosom clean.

Sky-lit awoken

The nightmare steed

Wildly runneth –

Its mane is the flag

of crowning,

Its eyes are of

Daemon

growling.

Tortuous Clockwork – 02/06/2021

Image by Prettysleepy from Pixabay

Nightfall bells

in silken sinuous trail

coil ’round the zephyr,

which by queer,

fragmental scream

roams as nothing

in ardent thought to be.

The chiming whispers

seething from the subtlety

announce the arrival

of clanging chains most antique.

And in this garden

of black metallic bliss,

denied their existence is.

In this garden

of black metallic will,

wild wicked

does the gaping jaw

commences the rite of blighting

with memories of instinctive dances

by poison fire and blue lotus medicine.

Encanto Agridulce

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay 

Los párpados embriagados

de elixir noctívago y sueño territorial

entretienen el vals del agridulce violonchelo

en el funeral de la noche que profesa

sus últimos momentos en susurros viperinos,

desvelando así con certeza los enigmas

que el corazón no confiesa con sobriedad.

Y en el terso mirar

de las sombras en el umbral,

místicas siluetas prometen regresar

y bailar y cantar celebrando la derrota

del orbe áureo celestial

en su carruaje mutable de amanecer

y luz de diurno manantial.

En el tierno parpadear,

el respiro se hace tenue en romance liminal.

Las mágicas siluetas prometen regresar,

y en su partida los labios musitan,

“Abrazadme una vez más”.

Arrullos de la Noche Pensativa

Del regazo encumbrecido

por las llamas del desafío

brotan rostros de fantasmas:

adumbraciones de la frente cándida

y la promesa larvada de un trino transcendental,

evocativas de la pasión inaugural

de un trayecto elemental

que anhelan la libertad de trenzar

pulsaciones de sangre vívida y éctasis lunar.

Labios de seda componen poemas

sobre las olas turbulentas de la oscuridad,

y el amante teje entre suspiros las esferas de su realidad.

Lulling Tickles in Liminality

Image by DarkmoonArt_de from Pixabay

As Darkness sways her regal skirt

to the dead’s drumming heartbeats,

I sit still entranced in silence until Being is

and all surroundings disappear.

Sea foam bubbles and kisses itself away in my ears –

the last remnants of the multitude storm

have no sway over the rock of protean lore.

The weathervane slightly oscillates

by the systole and diastole of breath,

reconciling lover and beloved

with the primal scent of lively opiates

in sightless search. 

And to commensurate the sweetness

of honeydew, roses, and rosemary blends,

all dreams entorched wed the shadows

in the tireless dance of visceral cantus

and hedgehog air.

Amidst Old Tomes, in Subtle Heartbeats

Listen to the imperious whisper forlorn,

crawling out the caskets of human ways age-worn.

Green lanthorns and ghost night

breathe out the briny breeze of archaic shores.

And in this Yuletide of watchful note,

curious feet walk in between

with itch, with love,

for the longing idyllic horror

of secrets most immemorial

and brilliant hope.

The Other Eye and the Silent Scream

The crepuscular light daily sets the stage for a new pilgrimage past the mouth of Abyss into the throne of a Black Sun, which abrasive sublime rays sear away the confusion of the day; although it may as well strip the heart off desire bent after object and natural course and edge. Here in the darkness does reason bathe in purity, and conviction’s resolve illuminates the beclouded use of breath and focused target.

Donning the crown of the depths, there is no escape from the timeless folly. The frolic of pretence enrobes and weds the conscious insanity, and the tarred alchemical tears are, each one, a perforating spear from the pilgrim’s reflective pool of inanity.

Dawn is the archetypal succour for the children of the golden orb, whilst in its embrace the offspring of chimerical antics run erratic, in pain writhing, under the blistering light of consensual literacy.

Blood-Month Hypnosis

Crystal mirror and moonlight dim.

Aetherial arms of rusty metal

draped in delicate fantasy.

Like nebulous blades of strings,

its concert casts the will of the puppeteer.

The beasts roam between sleep and lucidity,

yet the colossus still chases the mirage of unreality.

You will hear his screams echo in the wind,

but his ravings are speared in the wall of subtlety.

The eyes that see stare entranced at the infinite,

and thoughts flee from the chamber of wordly lunacy.

“I once was human”, a voice rustles in

from the backdrop of the scenery,

“yet I died in the pyre of my own scavenging”.

“Does it hurt?”, the undines peep out their heads

from the night pond curiously; “Do you weep?”

The voice retreats.

Silence falls on autumn’s lips,

yet the sentient architect knows

the possible impossibility.

Sandalwood, myrrh, and peppermint

outline the edges of myriad realms –

so apart, yet scarcely distant.

Above two poles of shipwrecked mariners

broken against the rocks of lawful quietness,

sits enthroned the lord of madness.

His eyes burn lapis lazulized,

and his domain is the reflection

of his inventive sacredness

still rubified.

Plutonian: Entrance and Vanquish

Rosy bird,
shaking its wings off the autumn rain.
Rosy bird,
chirping gleefully through the sunset vale.
Saved now, saved again
by the Cthonian pyre of truthful gaze.
Oh, how did the flaming tongues
scald the sentry's fortress of eyeless self!
In the night of day,
in the devoted ballroom of conscious pretence -
moonstruck and moon-strained 
from unearthed terrors of solar haze - 
birdy bird did cantillate, with blood tears,
the shackles away. 
The black devourer crawled 
from the dungeon cells:
Stygian, starless madness -
a wailing ghost, a mindful lover 
in the haunted corridors 
behind the masks we wear.

~*~

Rosy bird,
incinerated by art of self
to crown itself sovereign
again and again. 
Rosy bird,
the infernal shadows
wrought about the end
of luminaries' benighted lanterns.
Watchful bird,
the world is the empire 
of dreams in reverse.
Phoenix bird,
saved now, saved again
from winter's premature embrace.
Titan bird,
reborn in the reflection
of theatre's grace.
Saved now, saved again
by the sentient might
of consciousness.

This year has proved itself quite engaging, has it not? This is a note for you, dear reader. In the fathomless pools of your sorrow and despair, remember! Remember to keep inquiring yourself. Your liberation lies with the courageous action to seek and comprehend yourself. Unveil your shadows; for that which makes you uneasy is the key to your escape. Even in hopelessness, there is hope still to find your path to a life you would deem worth living. Know yourself and master yourself, else some other force will take command. Know yourself, because only you can accept or deny how to live in any shape or form.

With Conviction,

Alyona

Seas of Leviathan

In the tenebrous good-bye of lass gold lights

In the sombre bosom of the afternoon cap

In the crib of night-time greyed mist

Does life blossom through

The heart-beats of Dame Melancholy

In the sultry breath of summer

In the ball of corpses coming

In winter rings of loneness

Does my spirit lift and flutter

Like aethereal butterflies

In a garden of delight

Beknownst to amore sepulchral

Serpentine opus furrows

Through the sensuous heedful romance clad

In undercurrents of Plutonian dance

And in this, my paradise,

The forgot mysteries of the diamond lithe

Trickle down with the cascading sky

The cool zephyr yearns for my skin warm

And I remember beauty

In the arms of the thunderstorm

Cuando Llueve de Antaño (Spanish Collection)

Image by Anja🤗#helpinghands #solidarity#stays healthy🙏 from Pixabay

¡Simiente del oscuro tutelaje, abogante transcendente;

tú, que inadvertida izas sombras en los pantanos de la gente; tú!

Simiente del exilio intransigente del olvido y la inconsciencia,

desciende del trono negro de la verdad plena

y consagra mi presencia con tu mano guerrera.

Hoguera del sagrado árbol nocturno, ubicua numinosa,

despoja los rasgos de la esclavitud recóndita

para que el cadáver viviente en los jardines del fulgor inverso

se arranque los huesos y reclame su imperio

más allá del péndulo mordaz de los dioses durmientes.

(III) Centelleo Implacable (Spanish Collection)

La eternidad no puede matar

El estigma en el alma cortante

Dos rubíes, dos llagas escarlata

Portadoras de rabia y desastre

¡Ay Noche!

¿Quién diría que el destello que palpita

no es más que un pozo de agonía?

¡Ay Noche!

¡Qué mentira la danza propicia!

¡Qué fácil la salida!

Pon a un lado la amargura

Ahoga el haz de la cordura

¡Levántate!

Vístete de sangre inmunda

Mancilla con dicha al rompe sonrisas

Canta una canción de luz y día

Grita la verdad, ¡muerte en vida!