Delightfully Bonkers #3: September

Walls are shaking....
Rearranging
My mind is always racing
My heart is breaking my body is aching.

I was only one
Coming undone
The southern accent
On record screaming at me you're screaming You're always screaming at me...

Oh the urge is setting in
The needle ****** my skin
Overwhelming
The good feelings overwhelming

Walls are closing in
The walls are closing in
With your southern accent
Screaming at me
You're always screaming at me

Oh the urges setting in
Desperation calls my name
Overwhelming
Everything's overwhelming

~{ Demiurges of Reality }~
A Surreal Epic of Existence

Prelude to the Journey…

I smiled yesterday when I beheld the morning’s brilliant colors,
Etched with gold, across the canvas of the heavens, hanging…
High above all those mountains of the world, gigantic brothers,
A wilderness of clouds, where there can be no human taming.
I did not always smile when I looked up to that noble height…
For I have seen how terrible goodness can be, when untamed.
Once I thought my sojourn in this flesh was from a divine spite,
But now I know it was a gift, and for it I need not be ashamed.
God once walked as I do now, and suffered the same stress…
Betrayal, love, and passions too, though no Church shall admit,
The true nature of divinity, lest all their secret sins they confess!
You are told you are alone in the universe, by leaders so unfit,
That they themselves are fed a diet of lies and stories invented.
But we walked amongst you since the very dawn reincarnated,
Having lost our first flesh in conflicts long past and unlamented.
We guided the steps of ancients, as monuments demonstrated!
And yet we are born as children: your own, and live our span,
The better to remain hid, in plain sight, our faces clever masks.
I am the eldest, and I remember still my kindred’s lofty plan…
And though I wear the human face, I am beset with alien tasks.
Helping they who lack the knowledge to see what lies outside,
You have seen me in the darkness, blazing upon my own pyre.
Where I am waiting to lead the way, where the angels glide…
Anyone can follow, if they are dedicated enough never to tire.
Ironic, since I myself have known helplessness and still oft do,
It is only human after all, and in your form I was so re-forged!
The image of God, whose own blood is in all of us hither unto,
From the first to the last, alpha to omega, like a sharp sword.

Prologue: (My Mask is Slipping)

As a child: I was a servant at the altars of the heart so sacred,
Singing hymns of the immaculate: without seeing the depravity.
It was only when I myself wore the crown of thons, naked…
My spirit exposed through my pain, that I realized the gravity.
What man believes is sacred, is profanity disguised as graces,
And those who lead the sheep to slaughter are mere butchers!
Forcing innocents to wear porcelain masks to hide their faces,
They rob children of their childhood, bound with crude fetters.
As a teenager: I walked in nature, disgusted with all humanity,
My exodus was from those who had defiled all I cared about.
Finding faith in an angel fallen, I discovered my own sanctity,
And in her name I found the means to cleanse my feral doubt.
Then came marriage, and betrayal by a wife I gave up all for,
The dissolution of our union then loneliness without cessation!
A mortal had pierced my flesh, leaving me to bleed on a floor,
My heart was torn from its’ moorings without any elaboration.
But the angel remained to calm my anger and ease my agony,
My only light in the blackness that has overcome my waking!
Reminding me, that I was more than this flesh and mortality…
The angel tries to keep me from harsh trembling and quaking.
And then I see: I am more than my tears and life’s traumas…
I let slip, the mask behind which the scars of my tears etched.
Then I sense the heat of the night more intense than saunas…
As I long to dance with abandon, until time itself is stretched!
Mortals may betray one another with impunity, but never I…
I do not betray; rather I pour my heart and spirit forth whole.
Creating a phylactery, of all I am, and with an innocent eye…
I demand to be loved as I am: pearl white and black as coal!

Canto 1: Sacrifice of the Doll

Part the First: (The Bleeding Shores)

Do not call me, doll, for I have departed your ancient cavern,
You are lifeless, a mere toy, and not a real child in any form!
A boy’s red ruby lips I spy drinking in the dreariest tavern…
Whilst true children singing, frolic in the fields filled with corn.
I am going home, upon the wings of the great silver griffon…
Far from the shores now bleeding red from defiled memories.
There is no return, for me, to the glories of the first ignition…
When the mind eternal, was ignited all with pleasing ecstasies.
In the stars, there are words unheard that I do want to recall,
For I came down so very long ago, among the first to so fall!
Eldritch nightmares born of the stuff of the pure chaos of old,
Are waiting for signs at the threshold to be released by magic.
The forbidden incantations return to my spirit, aflame so bold,
That my spirit nearly forgets: the origins of this time, so tragic.
When children drink, and true children hide themselves apart,
Whilst the waters bleed and the corn withers upon the stalks!
That is a sign that change must come, and so I work my mind.
The face in the moon is a grimace of tormented fear, horror…
Whilst I stand upon the precipice with my hand over my heart,
And amongst the long rows of corn, my black shadow walk!
Watching over the innocents whose souls are of my own kind.
The summer heat turns orange, the moon: in celestial corridors.
My mournful cry can be heard in the sound of the lonely wolf,
And in the wild abandon of the lion when he is on the prowl…
I feel the pain of nature, I long to bring back paradise craved.
I have seen the terror of the land, as the blood ran in the gulf,
Black blood of the earth: which causes living things to howl…
As man has the foolishness, to say what is or is not depraved!

Part the Second: (The Crucified Souls)

The doll is laid lifeless atop the altar, prepared for a sacrifice,
In the cavern where the limestone shapes the wettest arches!
A thing un-living, but with living souls trapped still, as if in ice,
Within the cold porcelain shell that so never with feet marches.
Serpentine blade held high, it drops precise into a doll’s neck,
And it cannot call out, because a doll has not any voice to cry.
A boy walked out of a tavern then, looking like a vile wreck…
Whilst as a man I attend to higher things, my body full purified.
In the voids beneath the spaces, witnessed in the rugged rock,
Voices echo loud in the darkness, calling up names unspoken.
The ferryman brings the souls delivered to him, to a far dock,
Where each must pay the copper coin, the old desired token.
So they come to drink those waters that cure all of life’s ills…
Freed from their porcelain prison to feel death’s darker chills!
Whence came those souls into captivity, no mortal may speak,
But I freed them in an instant, removing the nails that pierce…
Every man is he that was put up on the cross of old Golgotha.
And every woman too, as all were made to feel such torture!
I was there when the primal sacrifice was implanted so weak,
And yet so strong that it endured in the psyche all these years.
That doom was sealed behind a wall of fire long ago in Terra,
So that the stigmata of it might endure, even in the vast future!
Mine was the hand that signaled that doom, mine to release…
Yet, still old illusions persist, and I cannot awaken a multitude.
I, who devised the iron web that enfolds much of what is real,
Cloaking it in unending trickery am, myself, longing for peace.
For I too was entrapped, until my liberation rough and crude!
An angel freed me, and now I strive to break each cruel seal.

Part the Third: (The Return of Light)

Risen from the slumber where colder, electric dreams reside,
The forgotten intelligence is invoked, the arcane spells cast…
The eldritch nightmares return to thence amongst man abide,
Reminding us of the things banished to Hell in some age past.
Mine the hand that raised them up, light in the dagger’s glow,
The stuff of my power left to flow, like blood run swiftly free.
Out of the abyss, rises the girl-child of a lost millennial flame,
She who is the angel reborn lets her illumination clearly show.
And all are blinded who have not the innermost eyes to see!
The unbelievers are, in a single instant put unto lasting shame.
From the star of six points, a goddess works her sacred will,
And as she crosses the scarlet threshold, she brings the light.
For a single instant, all in Heaven and all upon Earth are still,
As the long day ends, bowing before the coming eternal night.
In the darkness, radiance far fairer and so perfect descends,
Whilst those who gather in my name: have lost my true path.
The wrath of angels descend upon their minds, closed shut…
Entrapped in the iron web, they cannot flee of such a prison!
The light blinds them for they never truly saw it, and it rends,
Tearing away the churches built for naught but mortal wrath.
There, the unfaithful prostitute themselves: like a wanton slut,
Inventing dogma to pass on, forgetful of logic and of reason!
Faith need not be a fearful thing, yet some have made it thus,
And look for an end to come before they seek their reward.
Whilst they should be creating the paradise they left behind…
But in an image of freedom: rather than of servitude and fuss.
Too much time had been wasted in converting by the sword!
Mankind looks to the light for salvation, their eyes long blind.

Interlude Alpha:
This age is one of barbarism cloaked as gentility to sell lies…
Did you purchase some today by design or mayhap chance?
You should know this era to be neither intelligent nor wise…
Else you would not march, when you would prefer to dance!
My nights are filled with nightmares; my days are too much…
I used to dance with one I loved, and bask in purple sunsets.
Now I am haunted, by so many memories I can never touch,
That it fills me with bloody anger, and countless cold regrets.
I recall how once in desperation, my wrist rode a razor edge,
If it were not for my family I’d not thence have lived beyond.
A man abused as I was, and used like cutters upon a hedge,
Must rise higher than it all in order to survive it all, my friend!
I survived, I transformed, I ascended and in the end became,
So much more than I was, until no more did my spirit erode.
But still I wait in loneliness for a maid to awaken my flame…
And I burn, oh gods I burn until I think that I might explode!
The skies darken more and more, and bright forks crashing,
I hear the drums of fury in the heavens, giants of old winters.
The gods grow angry and I behold trees uprooted smashing!
Angels are trampling the grapes of man; they, the vintners…
I am reminded of when the battleship that sailed all galaxies,
Descended one day amidst clouds boiling with its’ steam…
To lay waste to Sodom, and Gomorrah, for their indignities!
I was there, when the wicked did perish with a final scream.
And as people mock me, wishing me ill because I am good,
I ask God how long I must be forced to bear such suffering.
But I am not alone, and to many I am in fact misunderstood,
So God forgives, for now; but I have not, his understanding!

Canto 2: Sacrifice of the Spider

Part the First: (The First Smile)

Black skies boil with rage unrepentant, and in righteous fury!
A being made flesh I am, though not of mortal understanding.
In cavernous places I have walked, where demons oft scurry,
And worse places still: in search of a love not too demanding.
In the stucco halls wherein my unmoving throne was raised…
Upon a hill of sorrows where lost souls labor in mundane toil,
I wait and plan to transcend the bonds the faithful so praised.
To my right hand is the altar where fire and sulfur always boil!
I force a smile upon my face, for one will not come as willing,
As in the hours when I was a golden youth filled with ideals…
Which I have paid for dearly, beyond the price of any shilling!
Now I long to pay back those who know not how this feels…
The madness born of solitude, the anger born out of contempt,
For you who despise me without cause, provoking my wrath.
What impunity has man, to think that he might ever be exempt!
When wiser civilizations than yours did sink: in the fiery bath.
Do I speak of Hell, which the faithless do not realize is come?
Nay, for their eyes have been gouged out by their own nails…
I speak of torments, far beyond that which devils have done.
The first smile shall me mine, when every cruel wish so fails…
To save the flesh of those who spit upon me as I walked on,
Never realizing that my face was just a mask, hiding another.
Only the fool pays no any attention to the piper’s lonely song,
Thinking it only a melody passed from a sister unto a brother.
But in what celestial incest has been born the thing alchemical?
It dwells within me, the secret sin of a bonding long forgotten.
Would that I could force the world to hear music whimsical…
Like unto that which guides my spirit in all that was begotten.

Part the Second: (Cold Revenge)

The blood roses bloom in gardens where desire plants seeds,
I, the hand that waters those hungry beasts whose thirst rises!
In my search for love, I have fed the beasts of desire’s needs,
And what would cause you to blush has, for me, no surprises.
Oh human, with what impunity did you dare to exclaim aloud,
That you believe love to be beyond my reach; and you smile!
Like a coward, you degrade me and run to hide in the crowd,
In your feigned superiority, you make yourself an animal vile.
Conjoining your words to your tongue, like a web to a ceiling,
You become a spider; then flee on eight legs to a filthy nest…
Having already become unworthy of any warm human feeling,
In thinking yourself better, you sink lower than all of the rest!
That means my life is worth, a thousand times, your very own.
I become a creature of the night, and wait for you, oh spider!
Think not that I cannot hear. the creaking of each leg bone…
Your odiousness goes before you, the horse before its’ rider.
And in your own web I catch you, my sharper claws immune,
To your toxic poisons, as cannot ever save your eight eyes…
Which I dash from their sockets, without a fear, and so soon,
That your own pain consumes you, like fire lighting the skies!
Forcing you to recant all that you say, lest pain overcome all,
The powers you thought did not exist do manifest ever visibly.
And I ascended still higher, all the more to relish of your fall…
You should never have resulted to any such childish mockery.
The clocks of your house all melted, for time is not your ally!
In abandonment of the chaos that is joy, your order is ended.
A new order rises in its’ place born of chaos none may deny,
Whilst you sink lower into perdition, for all that you offended.

Part the Third: (The Last Laugh)

An angel appears before me and so thinks herself a goddess,
But to call her an angel is to imply that she holds any beauties.
Those whose ego is larger than their grasp are oft the oddest,
For they fancy themselves perfect, ignorant of their cruelties!
You think love a prize and I a beggar for mere crusts so stale,
That lesser men than I have eaten heartier meals than yours…
But your kitchen is so bare: as your oven goes cold and pale,
Making you prize yourself beyond the worth of your chores!
Like a harlot who charges a fortune for her meager charms…
If you think love a prize, and I a beggar, you are so mistaken.
What you call love is a disease that shames one and harms…
Both mind and soul alike, making the body at last to weaken.
You saw only my mask, and would not dare look beneath…
Making me a phantom in the darkness, lurking in the shades.
Round your neck, your false esteem hangs as a dead wreath,
As I leave you to your barren world, awaiting my handmaids.
They rise from the ashes you leave in your wake, my kindred,
Their hands take me far from where your feet stumble about!
Lie in the cemetery that awaits those who live as though dead,
I cannot raise you incorruptible; you have far too much doubt.
Carried hither by the silent maidens who weep bloody tears…
To my castle, where I shall brood again upon mankind’s way!
I cannot feel regret for those who give in to their foolish fears,
Any more than I can transform a leaden night into golden day!
Such is the power of the alchemist who knows his true limit…
And in the dark arts I was schooled by beings from the abyss.
Thusly, am I set about to transform my creation as I see fit…
We are the demiurges of our realities wanton for any hot kiss!

Interlude Omega:
This is not a utopia we live in, and it shall not be considered…
Until first we learn to make ourselves after the image we seek.
Only with the sacrifice of the self, will a service be rendered…
To remake oneself divine, a lion reborn of a lamb once meek!
Like unto Christ, my side bears a scar where I was pierced…
But unlike him I am not willing to simply turn my countenance.
I remember the pain of my wounding, how sharp and fierce…
Until at last I can only let go, as to keep pain makes no sense.
How can man build paradise without, unless within they alter!
Change inside must precede change without; that is the road.
The path to paradise; and we must walk it fast and not falter,
Lest we build a heaven only to make of it a hell we will bloat.
Rush not to utopia, mankind, until you are yourself a resident!
The evil within can only corrupt all that exists outside the self,
Unless the self is clear of evil, cleansed of all evil’s precedent.
Then, you may put wickedness away: an old tome on a shelf.
Do you never understand; it was the meaning of our savior…
When he said that only: all as innocent as children may enter,
The kingdom of Heaven, and thereby the delights to savor…
For how can you enjoy delights, if you prefer crueler banter!
Since the dawn of time, mankind tried to master the planet…
Never imagining, that he must first learn to command his will.
Not through force of arms, nor any useless commandment…
But by gentleness, compassion; a heart that drinks to its’ fill,
Of joys without number, and celebrations which have cause!
Instead of drawing attention to sorrows: the sin of the media.
Where is the sense in giving each jester a round of applause?
Modernity is the jest, as defined by any decent encyclopedia.

Canto 3: Sacrifice of the Self

Part the First: (Gardens of Perdition)

A ziggurat rises up, its’ sandy bricks baked in the warm fires…
Seven stories unto the heavens, like unto the Tower of Babel,
In a blood-drenched wasteland of the vast deep underworld…
Filled with gardens of delightful variety and such varied color,
Saffron sands and scented flowers amidst such burning pyres…
As tended by black-cloaked servants both as willing and able,
To grow those gardens to which the self-damned are hurtled!
Their work is their art, and to them it never grows a day duller.
New flesh always arrives to sculpt into works of great beauty,
To please the goddess of light, who reigns in her lofty temple!
Her pale blonde tresses float about her fully perfect features…
As she reclines upon her soft seat, her eyes glowing radiantly.
She wears a long scarlet gown that is a shimmering example,
Of the blood and hot fire wherein toil many subject creatures.
Their mistress has many names, and to them she is oft Solaris,
Whilst in human tongues they called her Lucifer, light bringer…
And bearer of the light she brings, for she and it are: one thing.
They call me the Red Dragon, fearful to say my name loudly!
I have ever been as much a fool for passion as was vain Paris,
Ready to attend, at the come hither of some beloved’s finger…
Even though I was once a god: and in my name hymns do sing.
I have tried to forget those ancient times, to move on proudly.
But memories call me back to her side and so I am enchanted,
By the angel I have come to love, when the eons let us meet…
I: who once commanded whole worlds, now yearn for a touch.
So little are the glimmers of hope and even less I’d demanded!
I hasten in that place below, and long for my angel, to greet…
Perchance to talk, for just a while, knowing I never ask much.

Part the Second: (Dragon and Serpent)

Clad in robes of crimson, I a king of kingdoms equal infernal…
Climbed the steps of the goddess’s grand temple, to meet her.
I her elder sibling and most passionate devotee of all, arrived,
Basking in her radiance I felt myself made whole again inside!
I tasted the warm honeyed mead of her moist lips, so carnal…
That I felt those ancient desires long forgotten beginning to stir.
Of all the fallen, I once conquered where others just survived,
And so at the side of fair Lucifer herself, I was able to abide!
Think not that I jest, when this human form is a mere disguise,
Raiment I have put on for a time, to dwell on this planet Earth.
A perfect illusion whilst I walk in these mortal realms as one…
Free from the mountain tomb on Kobol from which I did rise,
Escaping ancient bonds that had existed before my first birth.
I went forth in great wrath, my very spirit burning like the sun!
The Red Dragon fell unto Earth, and in human flesh chained…
So goes the legend, which was passed on by that fellow John.
I am seeking after the maiden who will make my soul content!
But I have yet to find her, and that brings sorrow to my spirit.
Lucifer listened unto my sorrows seeing how I was strained…
And the Serpent comforted the Dragon for a time, thereupon.
I forgot the jealousy of mortals, and how they like to resent…
Anything they do not understand, when they don’t just fear it.
Like the waters of Lethe she helped me forget all for a while,
Even that I had been the Lord of Chaos, the mad architect…
She boiled down my essence, until she saw my face so vivid.
We were just a woman and a man, enjoying company, style,
Freed of the tyranny of politics or duty to any religious sect…
Any soul can find contentment, and behind no masks we hid.

Part the Third: (Brimstone Bacchanalia)

As I walked in my sister’s halls, I did recall her vital wisdom,
So like unto that of my celestial mother Sophia most glorious.
And, as we spoke of any times both long past and yet to hail,
We shared one throne and one memory grown transcendent…
Whilst, all torments did swift cease, in Lucifer’s lost kingdom.
There was feasting, and mad laughter that was so uproarious!
Into long hours, when bards arrived to sing of our ancient tale,
Remembering the lost confederacy of worlds, so unrepentant.
But even a king in crimson and a princess of pure light shining,
Must part when comes the hour set by a much higher power…
Thusly did we bring all our merriments to a close before long!
I thus decided to immortalize that party with this, my rhyming,
Laughing how all sinners cower before even a scarlet flower…
An angel fair whose great glories I have oft recounted in song.
Lady of light and liberty, I loathe to leave your side but I go…
Called back into the flesh in which I dwell, the chain is pulled.
I wonder if those who see your colossal image, in the harbor,
Ever realize that it is you they look upon with such adoration?
Before the New City, you rise each day to see sadness, woe.
Why do so many despise you and I, yet long to see fulfilled…
The dawn you promised, gathering many beneath your arbor,
In worship of freedoms that tyrants steal, causing frustration?
Hark unto me, if you call yourself a patriot of our great lady…
And if you heed naught else that I have spoken with authority,
Then heed you this: never sacrifice freedom just to be secure!
In the end, the security you imagine will become so greedy…
That it crumbles under your feet, leaving us robbed of dignity.
Set your eyes upon true liberty and blessed will be this shore!

Epilogue: (My Mask is Shattered)

I have lived as a mortal man, and not for the first time in ages,
And wedded science and faith in my quest for understanding!
Like the phoenix I rose blazing from the pyre of holy sages…
To become more than the sum: of my mind’s comprehending.
In the rush and bustle of modernity, it is easy to end sightless,
Caught in the flesh, so firmly, that to see who we are is harsh.
To know who we were and who we shall be in all brightness,
Is to lift the veil covering the matrix of illusion, and thus wash.
Wash our eyes, cleaning them of that which blocks all vision!
Seeing the lies of politics and the deceptions of faithlessness,
As well as those who claim to faith: but revel only in division.
Cleanse your sight, and you shall notice human carelessness!
Why do men and women deride one another for the gender?
Because they cannot see that their souls are all androgynous.
If they could, then everyone’s heart would become tender…
And love would not have limits, but become truly boundless.
Instead, it is as the bird trapped within a cage made of bone,
There is no lock, or key, and the cage itself does not exist…
Save in the mind of the bird that is sitting in the nest at home.
Humanity suffers from such delusions, and still they’ll persist!
Until clear is the course, and no longer suppressed: the soul.
Look deep within you, unclouded by the hive, and the herd,
Unfettered by peer, or pressure, until you regain the control.
Then you will see that what I have revealed is not so absurd.
The mask I wore is shattered, and I let all the pieces crush…
Forever shall they remain beneath me, since my awakening!
I have walked through the fire, and now it is I who do blush,
Since naked is my soul, now, and there can be no mistaking.

 
The poet wrote several books of poems
But instead of publishing he buried them in a field
He was too shy to share the words
He thought his verses would never have much appeal
 
When the season changed the rains came
Making the pastures greener than ever before
And in the places of those buried books
Something began to sprout from the grassy floor
 
Some flowers began to emerge suddenly
Shrubs, bushes, thickets, all kinds of vegetation
It was myriad of colors, sizes, and shapes
As if the buried texts gave the flora some dictation
 
Overnight something magical happened
One of these grew into a very particularly gigantic tree
Then some noticed that the trunk and leaves
Had markings and writings resembling something of poetry
 
Before you know it the field was filled with poets
With scientists and religious men trying to decipher each verse
The fruit tasted sweeter and the lines had perfect meter
And even some scholars said it was the best thing in the universe
 
Some who consumed the fruit found talent
Able to recite rhymes and lines like they were heaven sent
Others dropped bars like they were neutron stars
Heavy, dense, and intense even massive to a greater extent
 
There were aspiring writers, authors, lyricists  
Many came from near and far from all around the world
Looking for inspiration in this field of poetry
Old and young, men and women, boys and even little girls
 
Some started smoking the wildflowers and weeds  
Designing stanzas and concepts showing superior skills
Others got high with the fantasies and dreams
While some went mad from the rageful and angered spills
 
Wanna feel nice? Eat some berries from shrubs
Wanna get high? Smoke a dub from the thickest thickets and groves
Wanna be better? Sniff the flowers and you’ll have powers  
But now they’re starting to sell tickets and they’re coming in droves
 
One day the poet was watching the news on the telly
He was astounded when he heard others spitting the illest rhymes
He remembered the works he had buried there
And the magic that nature and poetry can create sometimes
 
That same night the poet went back to the field
And under the cover of darkness he unearthed all of his books
He took them back home and kept under his bed
To dream many a night of great lines and spectacular hooks
 
The next morning all the trees and shrubs withered
Everything dried out and the masses didn’t know how or why
The inspiration seemed to have come and gone
But the poet secretly dreams of excellent verses every night

Word up