Poetry competition CLOSED 25th February 2012 9:17pm
WINNER
Luca (Luca Della Casa)
Luca (Luca Della Casa)
RUNNER-UP:
Kou_Indigo
Let Evil Ring!
- Night of the Drowned -
By rugged paths through the woodlands green,
In younger years I walked often there between…
The yellow flowers that grew by the sad pond,
Which never stirred, save by breath of beyond…
And the darker forests where old spirits played,
Near ruins where once-lost folk piously prayed!
Complete was the lonely majesty of that domain,
So indifferent to human desires, dreams, or pain!
Alone I walked, like a spirit haunting a dwelling…
Familiar from some past days: oddly compelling.
What enchantment bore me hither I’ll not know!
Better to ask the wind why it was born to blow.
Ere night had fallen I beheld sights so uncanny,
Brought to this world by some ghostly company.
To speak of them is like to treat of some dream,
Wherein one may know delights but also scream.
Oh silent waters, what was reflected within you?
If only they could speak, the waters faded blue!
Perhaps terror keeps them silent, unable to tell…
The secrets they witnessed, of Heaven and Hell.
Mayhap sometimes fear is brought on by delight,
So profound, that it keeps one in an eternal night.
If you ask the waters, they shall not tell you this…
For they are lost, either in silence or infinite bliss!
Beneath the crescent moon, a goddess’s crown,
Yellow flowers become white, as winter’s gown.
As colorless as the faces looking up from under…
Whilst in the sky cracked a loud clap of thunder.
The drowned ones, who dwell down in the murk,
Saw me peering at the waters wherein they lurk!
I looked away unable to bear each bloated face,
Lost in the depths trapped far from God’s grace.
I felt the touch of someone behind me, just then…
Turning around to see a beautiful ghostly maiden.
She passed through me, wading out in the deep,
To drown herself: anew, where no fish will creep!
By rugged paths through the woodlands green,
In younger years I walked often there between…
The yellow flowers that grew by the sad pond,
Which never stirred, save by breath of beyond…
And the darker forests where old spirits played,
Near ruins where once-lost folk piously prayed!
Complete was the lonely majesty of that domain,
So indifferent to human desires, dreams, or pain!
Alone I walked, like a spirit haunting a dwelling…
Familiar from some past days: oddly compelling.
What enchantment bore me hither I’ll not know!
Better to ask the wind why it was born to blow.
Ere night had fallen I beheld sights so uncanny,
Brought to this world by some ghostly company.
To speak of them is like to treat of some dream,
Wherein one may know delights but also scream.
Oh silent waters, what was reflected within you?
If only they could speak, the waters faded blue!
Perhaps terror keeps them silent, unable to tell…
The secrets they witnessed, of Heaven and Hell.
Mayhap sometimes fear is brought on by delight,
So profound, that it keeps one in an eternal night.
If you ask the waters, they shall not tell you this…
For they are lost, either in silence or infinite bliss!
Beneath the crescent moon, a goddess’s crown,
Yellow flowers become white, as winter’s gown.
As colorless as the faces looking up from under…
Whilst in the sky cracked a loud clap of thunder.
The drowned ones, who dwell down in the murk,
Saw me peering at the waters wherein they lurk!
I looked away unable to bear each bloated face,
Lost in the depths trapped far from God’s grace.
I felt the touch of someone behind me, just then…
Turning around to see a beautiful ghostly maiden.
She passed through me, wading out in the deep,
To drown herself: anew, where no fish will creep!
- A Buccaneer’s Soul -
Being a Tale of the Flying Dutchman…
Prologue: The Coasts of Jamaica
Off the coasts of Jamaica, my ship sailed on,
Along Caribbean waves that rocked, in time.
The crew is singing, and drinking much rum,
Whilst I keep to myself, preferring red wine.
I pen, some poetry to a goddess I once loved,
When in other flesh I walked, in times past…
I look out a window, at the gray skies above,
And I turn the hourglass over, as time is fast.
I watch a solitary gull, and it seems so free…
Why do men make themselves prisoners, so?
Even these hearty lads who sail on with me…
We are slaves to the wind and if it will blow!
I sharpen my cutlass, preparing for our task…
As we near English waters, our long lost port.
We seek a safer harbor, where crabs do bask!
Our vessel dares not near the Redcoats’ fort…
No welcome would be ours, only cannon fire.
And so we sail on, seeking a secretive cove…
Where a treasure lies buried, which we desire,
Though not nearly as much as I long for love!
Part One: Bloody Spanish Gold
Captain, they call me, with fear in each voice.
Am I so terrible, or have stories traveled far?
We near the ancient cave; we come by choice,
Guided by the horizon, and many a noble star.
Less noble, indeed, are these greedy sailors…
Who call me a monster without knowing true!
The gold is Spanish, bloody from many wars,
Along with sapphires glowing fairly and blue.
Men died for us to claim it as such is the way,
The bones that guarded it knew the story full.
Telling not of their secrets until the final day,
For the dead are silent, and stubborn as a bull.
The booty is divided fairly, in accord to code,
And soon we set sail again, for French waters.
But on our way the skies darken, evil to bode!
We make fast the hatches on all the quarters…
But soon, we are caught up in a mighty storm,
Of which legends speak of, and seamen fear…
As ‘woe’ cries the gulls ‘you’ll see not morn!’
We saw not the morn, nor the one I held dear.
(Alone upon some windswept crag…
He gazed out long upon the cold sea.
A voice was calling from the depths,
Which kept on saying: “Look at me!”
Of his fortunes, he dared never brag,
For they brought him not: his victory.
So many men had met bloody deaths,
During his voyage of lawless piracy!
Hell dared not accept his own bones,
And so the sea one day called to him.
She craved his passion for her own…
Prepared to drown his every dark sin.
Though he was a legend on the main,
Blood was on his hands, a dark stain!)
Part Two: The Sea Goddess
The sea took the gold, in tribute to a goddess,
As I was cast adrift, the only survivor to live!
I was wrecked on a beach, and in my distress,
I resigned myself, my soul unto death to give.
That is where she found me, most royal lady!
I call her that, for her bearing was imperious.
Though her blood was not noble it beat hotly,
And her way, to speak truth, was mysterious.
‘A buccaneer’s soul, I sense in your breast…’
She said unto me, her eyes dark as the abyss.
‘But all such times are passing, going to rest!’
And she said no more, for lusty was our kiss.
She sang me a song that took me way back…
I was adrift on the melody, her eyes my light.
I forgot about my sins under the flag black…
And my soul was lost in a dance of the night.
Morn never came, and I knew I’d passed on,
Finding peace for a time with she I’d served.
But then I spied dawn’s rays, the warm sun…
And I could not die; for that, I was unnerved.
(The pirate had known all her charms,
That undying goddess, from below…
Not spoken of by men of true reason.
She swallowed his sin, took his soul!
He forgot his name, and his old scars,
Though he could not be pure as snow.
Her time was nigh in that wild season,
And the maddest wind began to blow!
He dove from the crag in dawn’s mist,
His crew beheld his fate from the ship.
By the sea goddess he was so kissed…
And his soul was lost, with a final slip.
But his ship had sunk so long before…
And her crew drew breath never more!)
Part Three: Voyage of the Dead
How long was I captain of the black galleon?
No hourglass was there to track time passing.
She stood at my side, after all that I’d done…
Beautiful as ever, her smile perhaps laughing!
The pale crew, all taken from a watery end…
Those same who had perished under my flag!
Many of whom once I had even called friend,
In search of treasure: of which we could brag.
Hands stained with blood from their lost loot,
Their voices chill as they sang almost merrily.
Damned men all, all from head down to boot,
Never caught, by the gallows or hanging tree.
But all things we do have a price to be paid…
And no gold can stave off the hands of death!
On the seas between worlds we sailed, afraid,
My only comfort, was my goddess’s breath…
Until at last, we sailed out of that life forever.
Each man to his fate, be it perdition or peace!
Death makes of each mortal, a true believer…
And there are some torments that never cease.
(They say he arose from his wet grave,
Unable to die till dire judgment day…
His crew shared his fate as heavy cost.
They sail the seas still, all debt to pay!
No matter how much love he so gave,
Unto his ancient mistress in his way…
His soul was fated to remain thus lost.
And so closest to the sea he must stay!
Ferrying the dead to the farthest shore,
Where he himself cannot disembark…
He seeks to redeem himself once more.
In the night, he sails, when all is dark!
Still plotting a course to the next life…
Hoping to escape his eternity of strife.)
Being a Tale of the Flying Dutchman…
Prologue: The Coasts of Jamaica
Off the coasts of Jamaica, my ship sailed on,
Along Caribbean waves that rocked, in time.
The crew is singing, and drinking much rum,
Whilst I keep to myself, preferring red wine.
I pen, some poetry to a goddess I once loved,
When in other flesh I walked, in times past…
I look out a window, at the gray skies above,
And I turn the hourglass over, as time is fast.
I watch a solitary gull, and it seems so free…
Why do men make themselves prisoners, so?
Even these hearty lads who sail on with me…
We are slaves to the wind and if it will blow!
I sharpen my cutlass, preparing for our task…
As we near English waters, our long lost port.
We seek a safer harbor, where crabs do bask!
Our vessel dares not near the Redcoats’ fort…
No welcome would be ours, only cannon fire.
And so we sail on, seeking a secretive cove…
Where a treasure lies buried, which we desire,
Though not nearly as much as I long for love!
Part One: Bloody Spanish Gold
Captain, they call me, with fear in each voice.
Am I so terrible, or have stories traveled far?
We near the ancient cave; we come by choice,
Guided by the horizon, and many a noble star.
Less noble, indeed, are these greedy sailors…
Who call me a monster without knowing true!
The gold is Spanish, bloody from many wars,
Along with sapphires glowing fairly and blue.
Men died for us to claim it as such is the way,
The bones that guarded it knew the story full.
Telling not of their secrets until the final day,
For the dead are silent, and stubborn as a bull.
The booty is divided fairly, in accord to code,
And soon we set sail again, for French waters.
But on our way the skies darken, evil to bode!
We make fast the hatches on all the quarters…
But soon, we are caught up in a mighty storm,
Of which legends speak of, and seamen fear…
As ‘woe’ cries the gulls ‘you’ll see not morn!’
We saw not the morn, nor the one I held dear.
(Alone upon some windswept crag…
He gazed out long upon the cold sea.
A voice was calling from the depths,
Which kept on saying: “Look at me!”
Of his fortunes, he dared never brag,
For they brought him not: his victory.
So many men had met bloody deaths,
During his voyage of lawless piracy!
Hell dared not accept his own bones,
And so the sea one day called to him.
She craved his passion for her own…
Prepared to drown his every dark sin.
Though he was a legend on the main,
Blood was on his hands, a dark stain!)
Part Two: The Sea Goddess
The sea took the gold, in tribute to a goddess,
As I was cast adrift, the only survivor to live!
I was wrecked on a beach, and in my distress,
I resigned myself, my soul unto death to give.
That is where she found me, most royal lady!
I call her that, for her bearing was imperious.
Though her blood was not noble it beat hotly,
And her way, to speak truth, was mysterious.
‘A buccaneer’s soul, I sense in your breast…’
She said unto me, her eyes dark as the abyss.
‘But all such times are passing, going to rest!’
And she said no more, for lusty was our kiss.
She sang me a song that took me way back…
I was adrift on the melody, her eyes my light.
I forgot about my sins under the flag black…
And my soul was lost in a dance of the night.
Morn never came, and I knew I’d passed on,
Finding peace for a time with she I’d served.
But then I spied dawn’s rays, the warm sun…
And I could not die; for that, I was unnerved.
(The pirate had known all her charms,
That undying goddess, from below…
Not spoken of by men of true reason.
She swallowed his sin, took his soul!
He forgot his name, and his old scars,
Though he could not be pure as snow.
Her time was nigh in that wild season,
And the maddest wind began to blow!
He dove from the crag in dawn’s mist,
His crew beheld his fate from the ship.
By the sea goddess he was so kissed…
And his soul was lost, with a final slip.
But his ship had sunk so long before…
And her crew drew breath never more!)
Part Three: Voyage of the Dead
How long was I captain of the black galleon?
No hourglass was there to track time passing.
She stood at my side, after all that I’d done…
Beautiful as ever, her smile perhaps laughing!
The pale crew, all taken from a watery end…
Those same who had perished under my flag!
Many of whom once I had even called friend,
In search of treasure: of which we could brag.
Hands stained with blood from their lost loot,
Their voices chill as they sang almost merrily.
Damned men all, all from head down to boot,
Never caught, by the gallows or hanging tree.
But all things we do have a price to be paid…
And no gold can stave off the hands of death!
On the seas between worlds we sailed, afraid,
My only comfort, was my goddess’s breath…
Until at last, we sailed out of that life forever.
Each man to his fate, be it perdition or peace!
Death makes of each mortal, a true believer…
And there are some torments that never cease.
(They say he arose from his wet grave,
Unable to die till dire judgment day…
His crew shared his fate as heavy cost.
They sail the seas still, all debt to pay!
No matter how much love he so gave,
Unto his ancient mistress in his way…
His soul was fated to remain thus lost.
And so closest to the sea he must stay!
Ferrying the dead to the farthest shore,
Where he himself cannot disembark…
He seeks to redeem himself once more.
In the night, he sails, when all is dark!
Still plotting a course to the next life…
Hoping to escape his eternity of strife.)
-~{ The Puritan and The Maiden }~-
A Puritan of Salem town, a swordsman of high renown,
Went riding out of the gates, of the ancient stockade…
Oh fare ye well to town, said the swordsman of renown,
For I have been a militiaman, and I shall not be afraid!
And so he spurred his horse along a trail little traveled…
Through Indian country and beyond, in places so dark,
That any lesser man would feel all his nerves unraveled…
But steely was that Puritan’s resolve, and so on a lark,
He journeyed beyond lands called civilized by mankind,
Saying fare ye well to the place of his birth and family.
He was always a man so different in spirit and in mind,
Unafraid: of the things that oft haunted the wild country.
But oft a snow-white owl watched him on his journeys,
Seeming to mock him, when he did only as he pleased.
Whilst riding along an autumn trail covered with leaves,
From high oak trees: of fiery orange and yellow colors…
Seeking after the kind of adventure: as nobody believes,
The Puritan saw a gray landscape, cold and dolorous…
Where the mists of a recent rain made wet those roads,
The few of which crossed marshes thick with old toads.
Dying were the woods that grew from out fouler bogs…
Than any the Puritan had seen before in all of his years.
Villages here and there: their fences all of rotting logs…
Empty of life, he passed through and heard loud tears.
Wept by ghosts unseen, and so assuming it the wind…
The Puritan left those villages behind and set out again.
But as evening came, his breath was cold and laboring,
His steed was pushed too far, and both were suffering.
Finally, he came unto a graveyard perched upon hills,
Surrounded by a low stone wall broken with neglect…
He passed the wall, as his horse shook with foul chills,
Dying beneath him, and so he had not time to reflect…
Only to leave the beast behind him: and journey along.
But all about him the sound of a violin playing a song…
Familiar and haunting: that called the dead from sleep!
And so, the dead of ages did from the evil soil creep…
To the tune of a white-dressed figure by some old oak,
Who sat upon a log playing the tune, but never spoke.
The Puritan saw the dead begin to join in a dire waltz,
As he thought he heard a voice recalling his old faults.
The pale one with the violin, a raven-haired maid she,
Stopped only to light candles all around, for all to see.
The dance of the dead continued long for it was night,
And long were the hours, before the break of dawn…
With those grim dancers: the Puritan’s long-dead wife;
Did plead for him to join her upon the graveyard lawn.
And thence, the dead encircled the Puritan all about…
He could not fight them, for his sword but only metal.
No silver had he to ward off death; only cruel doubt…
And that was not enough to postpone his death rattle.
He danced with his wife, and upon the break of morn,
When the pale one’s violin had played its’ final note…
The Puritan lay lifeless, his finery all tattered and torn,
And of his tragic tale: nothing more, the tellers wrote.
But on cold nights in autumn, a pale white maid plays,
A lonely violin: until the coming of the sun's gold rays.
A Puritan of Salem town, a swordsman of high renown,
Went riding out of the gates, of the ancient stockade…
Oh fare ye well to town, said the swordsman of renown,
For I have been a militiaman, and I shall not be afraid!
And so he spurred his horse along a trail little traveled…
Through Indian country and beyond, in places so dark,
That any lesser man would feel all his nerves unraveled…
But steely was that Puritan’s resolve, and so on a lark,
He journeyed beyond lands called civilized by mankind,
Saying fare ye well to the place of his birth and family.
He was always a man so different in spirit and in mind,
Unafraid: of the things that oft haunted the wild country.
But oft a snow-white owl watched him on his journeys,
Seeming to mock him, when he did only as he pleased.
Whilst riding along an autumn trail covered with leaves,
From high oak trees: of fiery orange and yellow colors…
Seeking after the kind of adventure: as nobody believes,
The Puritan saw a gray landscape, cold and dolorous…
Where the mists of a recent rain made wet those roads,
The few of which crossed marshes thick with old toads.
Dying were the woods that grew from out fouler bogs…
Than any the Puritan had seen before in all of his years.
Villages here and there: their fences all of rotting logs…
Empty of life, he passed through and heard loud tears.
Wept by ghosts unseen, and so assuming it the wind…
The Puritan left those villages behind and set out again.
But as evening came, his breath was cold and laboring,
His steed was pushed too far, and both were suffering.
Finally, he came unto a graveyard perched upon hills,
Surrounded by a low stone wall broken with neglect…
He passed the wall, as his horse shook with foul chills,
Dying beneath him, and so he had not time to reflect…
Only to leave the beast behind him: and journey along.
But all about him the sound of a violin playing a song…
Familiar and haunting: that called the dead from sleep!
And so, the dead of ages did from the evil soil creep…
To the tune of a white-dressed figure by some old oak,
Who sat upon a log playing the tune, but never spoke.
The Puritan saw the dead begin to join in a dire waltz,
As he thought he heard a voice recalling his old faults.
The pale one with the violin, a raven-haired maid she,
Stopped only to light candles all around, for all to see.
The dance of the dead continued long for it was night,
And long were the hours, before the break of dawn…
With those grim dancers: the Puritan’s long-dead wife;
Did plead for him to join her upon the graveyard lawn.
And thence, the dead encircled the Puritan all about…
He could not fight them, for his sword but only metal.
No silver had he to ward off death; only cruel doubt…
And that was not enough to postpone his death rattle.
He danced with his wife, and upon the break of morn,
When the pale one’s violin had played its’ final note…
The Puritan lay lifeless, his finery all tattered and torn,
And of his tragic tale: nothing more, the tellers wrote.
But on cold nights in autumn, a pale white maid plays,
A lonely violin: until the coming of the sun's gold rays.
- Sylvan Silence -
A Tale of The Supernatural...
There was silence in the sylvan realm, as clouds gathered on high,
And in the primordial seas below, the ancient things did stir anew.
For sorcery was at work in the land, which rational minds oft deny,
Although such powers exist in this world; I have seen them, true!
It was in October, when I set out along an old country road alone,
Not too great a distance from the house I have long called home...
On a night with fog so thick that it seemed of astral mists created,
I found myself drawn towards a nearby park and its' grassy fields.
Not a moment did that fog lift, nor had the chill in the air abated...
But rather it grew like unto a veil, covering the air like thin shields.
And on this otherworldly eve I heard a piercing cry, inhuman shrill…
Yet I could not walk away, for there was within me a primal thrill!
Of a sudden the fog rolled back and in the misty fields I so beheld,
Shadows human in their shapes, yet ethereal in sense and form...
Enacting some scenes from another time, walking where they fell,
Playing at life as children play at growing up in some future morn!
Above them all, a shrill cry like the Banshee of ancient tales told...
Oh, what horrors must have been in those fields in bygone days!
My grandmother told me once of a woman's murder, brutal, cold...
In those very fields it took place, hid from the sun's warmer rays!
The murderers long since gone, justice long since forgotten about,
Before my birth, before my generation, the evil became a legend...
As all who walked where the death was dealt could never doubt,
Were they to see what my eyes beheld, down that country bend!
Haunted fields and spirits in the woods, such is the unseen world;
That exists past the thinnest of veils, in quiet New England towns.
Ghostly ships off the cape, with tattered sails still grimly unfurled...
And animal spirits that enjoy their hunt near native burial mounds.
I have heard tales of demon bears, things that go bump at night...
And things that defy the logic we treasure, seen with other sight.
And so, when sorcery awakens in the land and spirits rise again...
Those like me, with the gift to see, must with such things contend.
When what gods there be use their power, to make us listen well,
In the silence of sylvan meadows sing dark angels fallen from Hell.
Beautiful yet terrible, as all things from the outer darkness can be,
All this and more can await, when you have the heavy gift to see!
A Tale of The Supernatural...
There was silence in the sylvan realm, as clouds gathered on high,
And in the primordial seas below, the ancient things did stir anew.
For sorcery was at work in the land, which rational minds oft deny,
Although such powers exist in this world; I have seen them, true!
It was in October, when I set out along an old country road alone,
Not too great a distance from the house I have long called home...
On a night with fog so thick that it seemed of astral mists created,
I found myself drawn towards a nearby park and its' grassy fields.
Not a moment did that fog lift, nor had the chill in the air abated...
But rather it grew like unto a veil, covering the air like thin shields.
And on this otherworldly eve I heard a piercing cry, inhuman shrill…
Yet I could not walk away, for there was within me a primal thrill!
Of a sudden the fog rolled back and in the misty fields I so beheld,
Shadows human in their shapes, yet ethereal in sense and form...
Enacting some scenes from another time, walking where they fell,
Playing at life as children play at growing up in some future morn!
Above them all, a shrill cry like the Banshee of ancient tales told...
Oh, what horrors must have been in those fields in bygone days!
My grandmother told me once of a woman's murder, brutal, cold...
In those very fields it took place, hid from the sun's warmer rays!
The murderers long since gone, justice long since forgotten about,
Before my birth, before my generation, the evil became a legend...
As all who walked where the death was dealt could never doubt,
Were they to see what my eyes beheld, down that country bend!
Haunted fields and spirits in the woods, such is the unseen world;
That exists past the thinnest of veils, in quiet New England towns.
Ghostly ships off the cape, with tattered sails still grimly unfurled...
And animal spirits that enjoy their hunt near native burial mounds.
I have heard tales of demon bears, things that go bump at night...
And things that defy the logic we treasure, seen with other sight.
And so, when sorcery awakens in the land and spirits rise again...
Those like me, with the gift to see, must with such things contend.
When what gods there be use their power, to make us listen well,
In the silence of sylvan meadows sing dark angels fallen from Hell.
Beautiful yet terrible, as all things from the outer darkness can be,
All this and more can await, when you have the heavy gift to see!
- Reaching Out -
A Song of Darkness
I reach out to the stars, and I am calling your name…
You answer me in the darkness, with passion’s flame.
I feel the wings of shadow emerge from my back,
As we soar through the night, in gowns silken black!
Pleasure unending, and passion unrestrained…
Madness so beautiful, it poisons your brain.
Don’t ask me to regret, for I cannot know shame!
I am one with the darkness, but cannot be blamed.
Do not remember; do not look to the past…
For there Hell is waiting, when Heaven can’t last!
Do you hear my voice, as it sings to the stars?
In the name of the fallen, of devils and whores!
Your hand, with black polish as dark as the Abyss…
I see it stretch forward, your lips hungry for my kiss.
I feel your every desire, and so I want to cry out,
But my voice has fallen silent, far too silent to shout!
Pleasure unending, and passions unspoken…
Madness is your reward for paying the token.
Don’t ask me to reason, for emotion has its’ bliss!
And chaos is a maiden, that most ancient goddess.
Do not forget me; do not cast me aside…
For I dwell in the darkness, and in fire abide!
Do you hear the music, the symphony I play?
In the name of the fallen, of souls gone astray!
I reach out to you now, and I see you are waiting…
There is no going back, to all their lying and hating.
The preachers deceived you; so now you know,
Some flames are rapture, and pleasant their glow!
Pleasure unending, and passion to be shared…
Madness with meaning: if you are not scared.
Don’t ask me to go back to taste Heaven’s sting!
I am one with the darkness, and old chaos I bring.
Do not look forward; the future is unknown…
Like me you are cast down and can never atone!
Do you hear my voice, as it whispers the way?
In the name of the fallen, I hear when you pray!
A Song of Darkness
I reach out to the stars, and I am calling your name…
You answer me in the darkness, with passion’s flame.
I feel the wings of shadow emerge from my back,
As we soar through the night, in gowns silken black!
Pleasure unending, and passion unrestrained…
Madness so beautiful, it poisons your brain.
Don’t ask me to regret, for I cannot know shame!
I am one with the darkness, but cannot be blamed.
Do not remember; do not look to the past…
For there Hell is waiting, when Heaven can’t last!
Do you hear my voice, as it sings to the stars?
In the name of the fallen, of devils and whores!
Your hand, with black polish as dark as the Abyss…
I see it stretch forward, your lips hungry for my kiss.
I feel your every desire, and so I want to cry out,
But my voice has fallen silent, far too silent to shout!
Pleasure unending, and passions unspoken…
Madness is your reward for paying the token.
Don’t ask me to reason, for emotion has its’ bliss!
And chaos is a maiden, that most ancient goddess.
Do not forget me; do not cast me aside…
For I dwell in the darkness, and in fire abide!
Do you hear the music, the symphony I play?
In the name of the fallen, of souls gone astray!
I reach out to you now, and I see you are waiting…
There is no going back, to all their lying and hating.
The preachers deceived you; so now you know,
Some flames are rapture, and pleasant their glow!
Pleasure unending, and passion to be shared…
Madness with meaning: if you are not scared.
Don’t ask me to go back to taste Heaven’s sting!
I am one with the darkness, and old chaos I bring.
Do not look forward; the future is unknown…
Like me you are cast down and can never atone!
Do you hear my voice, as it whispers the way?
In the name of the fallen, I hear when you pray!
- A Scarlet Beast -
Was it thy hand: that made of me, a scarlet beast,
Oh false divinity; who hath deceived all the masses?
When darkness falls, my time cometh to then feast!
And the hot fires in my heart sing like pretty lasses.
Hotter than Hell and redder than blood they blaze!
My hand shall cast a dark shadow upon desolations,
As: I cast upon all the land my most terrible gaze.
Red gown flowing, I join in infernal celebrations...
Running wildly in the night, I beheld the distant stars…
Back in a time less civilized, upon the world of Mars.
Two full moons hung in the sky, and thick the forests,
I came nigh to where a princess had laid down to rest.
Daughter of a goddess was she, so dear to my heart,
That I vowed to make her mine by every wicked art!
By the hair I took her and she awoke smiling broadly,
Her fanged teeth like a wolf’s, cunning and predatory.
So beautiful and yet terrible was she that I did gasp…
She wrapped her arms around me, an inhuman grasp!
Men called me vampire, consumed by lustful thirst.
Demons and angels I had walked with as companions!
In Eden of old, I was far, far older if not like the first.
But death had its' way with life, in a mad abandon...
Though beyond the cemeteries and tombstones today,
She whom men call Death reigns in splendors below.
With the souls of many kindred at her side and sway!
Those: whom Lilith and I sired, which the gods know.
Oh child of Lucifer, I knew thy mother with equal fire,
And on that evening I basked in the heat of thy desire!
Thy teeth upon my flesh, thy claws scratching wildly…
The woods that became a desert shook, ne’er mildly.
We were as wolves that night, as we howled so loud,
And did all that we pleased, all that is not oft allowed.
Forbidden lust and longing sated, madness so insane!
Pleasure so intense and wicked, that it must be pain…
Inhuman cries of ecstasy, and in thy green eyes bright,
I lost my very humanity, and I found release that night.
They cannot remain entombed, and so they arise all,
When Samhain cometh, once a year, its' chill rising.
Once men called me a god, before my prideful fall!
Though now their fear of me is hardly surprising...
For I was there when the sands of Mars grew hotter.
I was there, when the planet of the gods knew war!
My hands created wonders greater than any potter...
And I loved my goddess, who now is called a whore.
Only we gods of old, could love with such zealotry…
That I worshipped in thy arms, with apostate idolatry.
Like a silver bullet to my heart, the dawn came soon,
And I had to bid farewell to thee and to the moons…
For Lucifer awaited me in her home in the mountains,
A temple on a ziggurat: full of gardens, and fountains.
Whatever lupine spirit had possessed me mercilessly,
Thy passion sated, so that I could depart contentedly.
Some nights I remember our love, and I howl again…
For the wolf is still within me, as new journeys begin!
The Abyss welcomed me, when in exile I fled of old,
Pursued by the angels whom mankind adores as such!
Now I pursue a destiny written by a power more bold.
And when darkness falls, this beast will have much!
Of desire and wanton dreams, to drink of till sated.
Dost thou know my name; I have so many as are true?
I have seen past glory fall, and with succubi mated.
Look in the darkness, for there: where doth ensue...
The revels of the fallen, I shall ever be looking back!
Mine eyes see your own, and we shall be one in time.
Until the stars fade and die, leaving only voids black...
You shall remember my words as spoken in this rhyme.
Was it thy hand: that made of me, a scarlet beast,
Oh false divinity; who hath deceived all the masses?
When darkness falls, my time cometh to then feast!
And the hot fires in my heart sing like pretty lasses.
Hotter than Hell and redder than blood they blaze!
My hand shall cast a dark shadow upon desolations,
As: I cast upon all the land my most terrible gaze.
Red gown flowing, I join in infernal celebrations...
Running wildly in the night, I beheld the distant stars…
Back in a time less civilized, upon the world of Mars.
Two full moons hung in the sky, and thick the forests,
I came nigh to where a princess had laid down to rest.
Daughter of a goddess was she, so dear to my heart,
That I vowed to make her mine by every wicked art!
By the hair I took her and she awoke smiling broadly,
Her fanged teeth like a wolf’s, cunning and predatory.
So beautiful and yet terrible was she that I did gasp…
She wrapped her arms around me, an inhuman grasp!
Men called me vampire, consumed by lustful thirst.
Demons and angels I had walked with as companions!
In Eden of old, I was far, far older if not like the first.
But death had its' way with life, in a mad abandon...
Though beyond the cemeteries and tombstones today,
She whom men call Death reigns in splendors below.
With the souls of many kindred at her side and sway!
Those: whom Lilith and I sired, which the gods know.
Oh child of Lucifer, I knew thy mother with equal fire,
And on that evening I basked in the heat of thy desire!
Thy teeth upon my flesh, thy claws scratching wildly…
The woods that became a desert shook, ne’er mildly.
We were as wolves that night, as we howled so loud,
And did all that we pleased, all that is not oft allowed.
Forbidden lust and longing sated, madness so insane!
Pleasure so intense and wicked, that it must be pain…
Inhuman cries of ecstasy, and in thy green eyes bright,
I lost my very humanity, and I found release that night.
They cannot remain entombed, and so they arise all,
When Samhain cometh, once a year, its' chill rising.
Once men called me a god, before my prideful fall!
Though now their fear of me is hardly surprising...
For I was there when the sands of Mars grew hotter.
I was there, when the planet of the gods knew war!
My hands created wonders greater than any potter...
And I loved my goddess, who now is called a whore.
Only we gods of old, could love with such zealotry…
That I worshipped in thy arms, with apostate idolatry.
Like a silver bullet to my heart, the dawn came soon,
And I had to bid farewell to thee and to the moons…
For Lucifer awaited me in her home in the mountains,
A temple on a ziggurat: full of gardens, and fountains.
Whatever lupine spirit had possessed me mercilessly,
Thy passion sated, so that I could depart contentedly.
Some nights I remember our love, and I howl again…
For the wolf is still within me, as new journeys begin!
The Abyss welcomed me, when in exile I fled of old,
Pursued by the angels whom mankind adores as such!
Now I pursue a destiny written by a power more bold.
And when darkness falls, this beast will have much!
Of desire and wanton dreams, to drink of till sated.
Dost thou know my name; I have so many as are true?
I have seen past glory fall, and with succubi mated.
Look in the darkness, for there: where doth ensue...
The revels of the fallen, I shall ever be looking back!
Mine eyes see your own, and we shall be one in time.
Until the stars fade and die, leaving only voids black...
You shall remember my words as spoken in this rhyme.
well i have to express a certain disappointment. I was hoping for a more ....something than bizarreness.
I thought you might have all the clocks in your home turned backwards for whatever reason.
still, thanks for the clarification.
I thought you might have all the clocks in your home turned backwards for whatever reason.
still, thanks for the clarification.
- Sanguine Seduction: Blood of the Damned -
The goddess of the damned drank of red, hot blood,
And her secret smile, she could not by means erase!
Before the doom of Atlantis in the waters of a flood,
When the children of fallen angels from out of space...
Strayed far from the causes of their unleashed chaos.
Before that fall of cold doom, I walked with demons,
When most beautiful of all they were, ere being lost.
I ignored the signs, the portents, and the fell omens...
“Red Queen, It was not the night that caught my eye,
But your eyes sparkling so delightfully in the firelight…
As you poured the wine most unholy for us to drink!
Whilst we talked of the stars that sparkle in the sky,
Enjoying the gentle music of that vast, majestic night.
So intent was all my desire that I do in honesty think:
You, were the one seducing my will; so craftily well,
That your charm played like a cat with my very own…
I sipped from your offered cup, a cruel thirst to quell.
And when we kissed, it warmed up the castle stone!”
When should I have asked the nobler gods on high?
Why all their anger drove them unto black genocide.
For even the children of the highest angels, can die...
And for them, there was no haven, no place to hide.
This goddess I sing of, was not yet called damned...
When she drank from her holy cup in Eden, of old!
But by a grand divine decree, and cruel command...
She and I, together, knew the touch of doom cold.
“I drank the wine you gave, from your full red lips,
And it tasted to my mind, like the sweetest honey…
Though it was most uncommon, for northern mead.
My arms wrapped so tightly around your full hips…
Our embrace was as a burning fire, so hot and free.
Each of us sensing in the soul, of the other’s need!
The kiss ended ere long, and you did smile serene,
Your pale white teeth glinting in the fireplace glow.
How noble is the smile from a fair, celestial queen!
I was far too innocent back then; now I do know.”
And doom I became ere long, for Atlantis too fell,
When hell-born necromancer, they called my title...
Before I was stripped of my noble divinity so well.
The goddess drinks her wine still, but passing little!
Changed entire were we, as was this entire planet.
But ne'er in the noblest spirit, for it remains strong,
More divine than they who thusly in wrath so bent,
Wrought mad death: in the name of righting wrong.
“As we dared make our love, on the black fur rug,
Your twin green eyes were blazing with mad mirth.
And once more we kissed like wantons in passion,
Whilst locked together as one, in a hot carnal hug!
I learned of the nature of the infernal wine’s worth.
When you told me, in the most sadistic of fashion…
That it was your own angelic blood, we so drank!
Now that wine flowed like flame in my own veins,
As into my flesh, your fallen angel teeth you sank…
Transforming me forever in full, with blissful pains.”
The goddess of the damned drank of red, hot blood,
And her secret smile, she could not by means erase!
Before the doom of Atlantis in the waters of a flood,
When the children of fallen angels from out of space...
Strayed far from the causes of their unleashed chaos.
Before that fall of cold doom, I walked with demons,
When most beautiful of all they were, ere being lost.
I ignored the signs, the portents, and the fell omens...
“Red Queen, It was not the night that caught my eye,
But your eyes sparkling so delightfully in the firelight…
As you poured the wine most unholy for us to drink!
Whilst we talked of the stars that sparkle in the sky,
Enjoying the gentle music of that vast, majestic night.
So intent was all my desire that I do in honesty think:
You, were the one seducing my will; so craftily well,
That your charm played like a cat with my very own…
I sipped from your offered cup, a cruel thirst to quell.
And when we kissed, it warmed up the castle stone!”
When should I have asked the nobler gods on high?
Why all their anger drove them unto black genocide.
For even the children of the highest angels, can die...
And for them, there was no haven, no place to hide.
This goddess I sing of, was not yet called damned...
When she drank from her holy cup in Eden, of old!
But by a grand divine decree, and cruel command...
She and I, together, knew the touch of doom cold.
“I drank the wine you gave, from your full red lips,
And it tasted to my mind, like the sweetest honey…
Though it was most uncommon, for northern mead.
My arms wrapped so tightly around your full hips…
Our embrace was as a burning fire, so hot and free.
Each of us sensing in the soul, of the other’s need!
The kiss ended ere long, and you did smile serene,
Your pale white teeth glinting in the fireplace glow.
How noble is the smile from a fair, celestial queen!
I was far too innocent back then; now I do know.”
And doom I became ere long, for Atlantis too fell,
When hell-born necromancer, they called my title...
Before I was stripped of my noble divinity so well.
The goddess drinks her wine still, but passing little!
Changed entire were we, as was this entire planet.
But ne'er in the noblest spirit, for it remains strong,
More divine than they who thusly in wrath so bent,
Wrought mad death: in the name of righting wrong.
“As we dared make our love, on the black fur rug,
Your twin green eyes were blazing with mad mirth.
And once more we kissed like wantons in passion,
Whilst locked together as one, in a hot carnal hug!
I learned of the nature of the infernal wine’s worth.
When you told me, in the most sadistic of fashion…
That it was your own angelic blood, we so drank!
Now that wine flowed like flame in my own veins,
As into my flesh, your fallen angel teeth you sank…
Transforming me forever in full, with blissful pains.”
lepperochan said:well i have to express a certain disappointment. I was hoping for a more ....something than bizarreness.
I thought you might have all the clocks in your home turned backwards for whatever reason.
still, thanks for the clarification.
Lol! No problem, my friend. It was an interesting conversation in the end.
I thought you might have all the clocks in your home turned backwards for whatever reason.
still, thanks for the clarification.
Lol! No problem, my friend. It was an interesting conversation in the end.
Anonymous
Viral Soup
Enter the blackest dismay
it slices the silence in two
and reaps malicious visions
Slithering about
it mingles with hate
concocting a terminal wrath
It burns and singes
the finest, most debonair
morsels of shadow
Metastasizing, scheming
and victimizing my mind
into believing that death is the only way out
Cuffed are my hands
my vision is whited out
while thought explores unhindered
Poison seeps into my veins
and reality chimes verbose
as guttural sounds drown out my logic
I am not human anymore
but composed of unbidden impulse
coiled to strike at the demon that haunts
To escape this cell of woe
buried beneath the recesses of my mortality
I must risk myself
I bathe in his blood
and feed on his remnants
so that I may die in order to live
He is the antithesis of grace
his name is vengeance
and he is my nemesis
Enter the blackest dismay
it slices the silence in two
and reaps malicious visions
Slithering about
it mingles with hate
concocting a terminal wrath
It burns and singes
the finest, most debonair
morsels of shadow
Metastasizing, scheming
and victimizing my mind
into believing that death is the only way out
Cuffed are my hands
my vision is whited out
while thought explores unhindered
Poison seeps into my veins
and reality chimes verbose
as guttural sounds drown out my logic
I am not human anymore
but composed of unbidden impulse
coiled to strike at the demon that haunts
To escape this cell of woe
buried beneath the recesses of my mortality
I must risk myself
I bathe in his blood
and feed on his remnants
so that I may die in order to live
He is the antithesis of grace
his name is vengeance
and he is my nemesis
Goodnight World
The ferris wheel
is in black and white
I can feel
the air is tight
as it turns
under a solar eclipse
that still burns
now the day is night .
Slow motion sounds
echoes of a fist
that pounds
lips gently kiss
goodnight to a done sound
were all dead
hello hell hounds
hydrated heads
implode to a new found
earthen beds uproot the
soil of black
as bones walk around
into shape they crack
judgement day
is abound
there is no way
of ever going back
The ferris wheel
is in black and white
I can feel
the air is tight
as it turns
under a solar eclipse
that still burns
now the day is night .
Slow motion sounds
echoes of a fist
that pounds
lips gently kiss
goodnight to a done sound
were all dead
hello hell hounds
hydrated heads
implode to a new found
earthen beds uproot the
soil of black
as bones walk around
into shape they crack
judgement day
is abound
there is no way
of ever going back
Red Rigor
Here they come
they stagger in their scum
dragging their limbs
where all feeling has gone
slipping in their skin
with a lipless grin
intestinal drooling
from the rot of within .
Menacing and moaning
a grimacing of groaning
red rigor death showing
the dead figures
are approaching .
Twisted body beetle
black fisted
dripping treacle
dead carcus
powered evil
here they come
in shells of people .
Cadavers , animate
through death
they live to take
the hours you wont awake
you cower , capitulate
the hour
is getting late
they scour ,
cerebal intake
you know it's all over
as they eat your skin cover.
Here they come
they stagger in their scum
dragging their limbs
where all feeling has gone
slipping in their skin
with a lipless grin
intestinal drooling
from the rot of within .
Menacing and moaning
a grimacing of groaning
red rigor death showing
the dead figures
are approaching .
Twisted body beetle
black fisted
dripping treacle
dead carcus
powered evil
here they come
in shells of people .
Cadavers , animate
through death
they live to take
the hours you wont awake
you cower , capitulate
the hour
is getting late
they scour ,
cerebal intake
you know it's all over
as they eat your skin cover.
Replaying Tragedies in Hell
Found in hell and forgotten in heaven
I put forth my two feet;
Only to be consumed by the deadly seven
People of all sins move to the same beat
Castle crashes around and about
The devil himself pats me on the shoulder
Beckoning me to find a way out
As I play his game I solemnly encouter
A world of pain and terrified screams
Help me is what they yell
As I walk past their chambers that bleeds
The devil simply says, "This is your hell"
My eyes burn as I remember their faces
Panting as I become the one to control their domestic torture
Whips and fire burns around them and erases
Their every being; gone and the devil pushes more and more
Blood leaks from the wrath that captivates it's victim
Greed swallows his inmate as he drowns on the gold coins
The hell hounds are told to "sick em"
Upon the sloth that lay lazy; untold suffering rejoins
The pride after his arms are taken apart
Now as I begin to become sick
The lustful nymph gets stabbed in the heart
Repeatedly and unwound; Same for the envious groom
Upon lay his dead bride whom he calls for but she does not answer
His tears become dry as the green fire does consume
Last chamber is coming up and one decision is a disaster
This gluttony man sits with a demon force feeding him to his death
His stomach is bulging out as it burst
Passing by this chamber I take a breath -
My final challenge is to drive my family's hearst.
My hands shake as I begin to finally devour the truth
A gun is in my hand and my family lay upon in order
I sink down and become the proof
I'm on the edge of the border
Inbetween sanity and confusion
Now I have blood on my hands from my family
"Please no, I did not. This is just an illusion"
But it's not as my arm replays the motion of my insanity
One by one, brothers to mothers and finally father
All drop to the ground -
The devil tells me to finish but I don't bother
His words are just a sound
I bring up the gun and finally pull the trigger
Falling; I wake up to a sudden fire
Again I go through the sins of another
The devil says this is my true desire
To replay the same day over and over again
Until I can finally become sane.
Tears fall in this hell but evaporate as my true colors shine;
I killed my family and the devil rewinds my torture through my mind.
Found in hell and forgotten in heaven
I put forth my two feet;
Only to be consumed by the deadly seven
People of all sins move to the same beat
Castle crashes around and about
The devil himself pats me on the shoulder
Beckoning me to find a way out
As I play his game I solemnly encouter
A world of pain and terrified screams
Help me is what they yell
As I walk past their chambers that bleeds
The devil simply says, "This is your hell"
My eyes burn as I remember their faces
Panting as I become the one to control their domestic torture
Whips and fire burns around them and erases
Their every being; gone and the devil pushes more and more
Blood leaks from the wrath that captivates it's victim
Greed swallows his inmate as he drowns on the gold coins
The hell hounds are told to "sick em"
Upon the sloth that lay lazy; untold suffering rejoins
The pride after his arms are taken apart
Now as I begin to become sick
The lustful nymph gets stabbed in the heart
Repeatedly and unwound; Same for the envious groom
Upon lay his dead bride whom he calls for but she does not answer
His tears become dry as the green fire does consume
Last chamber is coming up and one decision is a disaster
This gluttony man sits with a demon force feeding him to his death
His stomach is bulging out as it burst
Passing by this chamber I take a breath -
My final challenge is to drive my family's hearst.
My hands shake as I begin to finally devour the truth
A gun is in my hand and my family lay upon in order
I sink down and become the proof
I'm on the edge of the border
Inbetween sanity and confusion
Now I have blood on my hands from my family
"Please no, I did not. This is just an illusion"
But it's not as my arm replays the motion of my insanity
One by one, brothers to mothers and finally father
All drop to the ground -
The devil tells me to finish but I don't bother
His words are just a sound
I bring up the gun and finally pull the trigger
Falling; I wake up to a sudden fire
Again I go through the sins of another
The devil says this is my true desire
To replay the same day over and over again
Until I can finally become sane.
Tears fall in this hell but evaporate as my true colors shine;
I killed my family and the devil rewinds my torture through my mind.
A overflowing rain of blood!
I wonder how a human being
can hold so much red sludge?
splashes of plasma everywhere,
even on the ceiling.
The victim was lying on his back
on the soaked bed,
he pissed himself, relaxing in death.
He is naked, the hands cuffed behind his back,
cold porcelain dead flesh, purple dark lips.
Dark bruises, as blacks snakes,
wrapped around his neck.
The ripped open chest,
slaughtered by scalpel wounds.
"They've snatched his heart." Says the CIS,
with an astonished expression on face.
In a roll of bloodied transparent plastic,
the remains of a heart bites torned,
obscene teeth marks on the leaden meat.
The dead man's eyes are wide open,
absent and shadowy empty gaze.
Glossy-gray corneas watch at the ceiling,
and a twisted expression of pain on face.
The blood-drenched hands of the murderer,
throuwn copious brown liquid on the walls.
The ripped open chest used as inkwell,
from which to draw with both hands.
The blood adds a odd note of contrast
on the matt black paint of the room.
Esoteric marks on a rough pentagram,
traced by fingers drenced in blood.
The red liquid is the only color of a scene
where the dark wood of decor and furniture,
fades into pitch black.
Disturbing pictures of Giger, Bacon, Betzinsky
and cemetery landscape with afflicted angels,
accentuate the feeling of oppression and pain.
All this surround the lonely body on the dirty sheets,
soiled with body fluids and horror desperate.
The smell and vision of dead flesh cause discomfort,
and drips on me with a moribund-like cold sweat.
The victim liked to read, a little of everything
esotericism and philosophy, fiction and genre Noir,
classical French Romantic, and contemporary American.
Worn and yellowed pages of old and used books,
lie scattered on the floor of ebony wood.
The newest editions where for poetry,
Obscure authors, as Boudelaire, Ungaretti and Poe,
but also Neruda, Alberti, Prévert and Rimbaud
so famous for their poems of love.
The homicide squad's cop liked poetry, inusual indeed.
That case seemed so different from others ...
Over the trafficking, prostitution and fraud,
there was a dead handcuffed, strangled and tortured,
and those unknown symbols drawn in blood on the wall.
They were trying to put the carcass in a PVC bag,
the color and the material agreed with the house.
Employees of morgue were struggling in their work,
against Rigor Mortis in a grotesque quarrel,
for endless moments the rigid limbs refuse to get in.
Finally with the deft experienced gestures,
the corpse slipped into the shiny black bag.
Tulled the zipper, the snaps where closed,
jus say goodbye to the gray melancholyc official.
We stood motionless for a moment in eerie silence,
looking at the envelope bulging on the cart.
The older employee was out of breath,
more than thirty years handling corpses
"It's a job like any other!"
How many times had he repeated that phrase,
a work like sanitation and junkyard,
a secure job that crisis will never knows.
Retirement, would soon freed him from squalor,
He shouldn't have do nothing, but wait his turn
to be slipped into a plastic bag through.
Yessir, that was not a case like the others:
a muffled lament resounded in the silence of the room,
a wheezing gasp of pain, originating from the dead's bag.
How could there still be traces of life in the victim?
Impossible!
Strangled, ripped open chest, torned heart...
Impossible!
The rattle grew louder, but no one paid any attention
"Don't you hear: he's still alive!" I murmured.
"What does all this mean?" I asked.
But no one took heed to my laments,
my rattling, wheezing and painful, got no response.
Slowly one by one they got out of the door
and without saying a word took my corpse away
leaving me in the place where murdered I had been
alone and trapped, forever,
in the dark silent room.
