Poetry competition CLOSED 25th February 2012 9:17pm
WINNER
Luca (Luca Della Casa)
Luca (Luca Della Casa)
RUNNER-UP:
Kou_Indigo
Let Evil Ring!
- The Voice of Darkness -
Part I – Fire and Crucifixion
You could not see the beauty within me, foolish maid,
So jealous were you of the outer beauty you beheld…
Mindless of my ancient soul, of which you were afraid!
Now you shall know why before me the ancients knelt.
It was I, who cast thousands of souls into a wall of fire,
When the volcanoes of Atlantis and other lands flared…
And it was I, who collected their souls in wrath so dire.
In vessels of steel we bore them, to where gods dared!
Were they not of us, and so we saw fit to punish them,
Instilling notions of a hell more awful than we wrought?
It was not I, but: their own sin that did thusly condemn.
You do not realize the mad power of a strong thought!
And in their minds, they crucified themselves so artful…
That the Romans remembered and perfected this way!
Man is the author of countless miseries, as truly awful…
As the doom we imposed, on those souls, on that day.
They could not pull out the nails from their wounding…
For it was their own will that thrust them into the flesh!
The green of their putrefaction, of ravens descending…
Was all in their imagination, and they suffered it afresh.
Part II – Darkness Incarnate
They became twisted wraiths, no longer as they were,
Seeking to possess the bodies of the living once again.
For they could not die, though they lived ne’er more…
And so like demons of a true hell they swiftly became!
Those sons of Theta, who could ne’er forget their fate,
Passing it on to their hosts who suffered so possessed.
Have you heard the legends when the hour grew late?
You hear them now, and soon you shall be distressed!
The flesh hides many secrets, but within mine do gaze,
Seeing with your inner eye the shape of my spirit bare.
In such an image was I remade as a captive in a daze!
But I remembered, and now you will endure my stare.
A dark lord, and lady, an emperor, and also empress,
Was I, ere my estate was to dwell in a human guise…
Fitting punishment for me, upon my soul did so press!
The gods were cruel but in their cunning so very wise.
But of their foolishness, worlds were charred to soot,
And made desolate, with blackened bones that lay…
Here a skull, there a limb, and even a hand, and foot!
As to them, the ancestors of man did kneel and pray.
Part III – Lover of Demons
Behold my darkness, I who loved Lilith by the water,
And made for her a throne of skulls to recline upon…
When the angels could not persuade, Hell’s daughter.
Even so, I moved her to joy beneath the ancient sun!
The blood of the wicked she drank, from my chalice,
And with it anointed the first vampires on this planet!
She and I shared, for early man, our common malice.
And with Lucifer we stood, and could ne’er regret…
For the fallen cannot know remorse for their natures,
Any more than humanity for their wars and pollution!
We, did not harm this Earth as do they; so immature,
That with destruction: they lie as if in dire prostitution.
And you call me evil, when I helped to bring the light,
To your savage ancestors before you were imagined.
Do you know my name, and so know well the night?
You cannot know me, for your reason is abandoned.
Mayhap you should dash your brains out your head…
Their jellied mass to lie: upon ebon altars of ineptness.
How can you call yourself living, you are of the dead!
For it is not living: to deny, what your senses confess.
Part IV – Bride of the Devil
It was I, who had my enemies impaled on tall stakes,
And was called the Son of the Dragon by the people.
Out of their vacant sockets writhed emerald snakes…
Those from whose mouths: was sharpness unequaled.
And into a chalice I squeezed out their wicked blood,
To offer up to Lilith, so that they might taste of wrath!
And for Lucifer, we offered up a truly crimson flood…
So that my sister may bathe: in the warm scarlet bath.
Do you fear the night, for in it I find my forgetfulness?
You would have me recall the things you most fear…
And so I shall be cruel in this, as I don a silken dress,
To sit upon my throne infernal, and beckon you near!
I, who knew the Devil when that queen ruled on high,
And was her lover, ere the gods brought on us a ruin.
Have a sip from my sanguine chalice, and come nigh!
For in my kingdom is room for one more child of sin.
There are worse things than fire, of immortal making,
And you will smell the burning brimstone you do seek.
Upon its’ coals your naked skin most willingly baking,
For some hells you make yourself to make you weak.
Part I – Fire and Crucifixion
You could not see the beauty within me, foolish maid,
So jealous were you of the outer beauty you beheld…
Mindless of my ancient soul, of which you were afraid!
Now you shall know why before me the ancients knelt.
It was I, who cast thousands of souls into a wall of fire,
When the volcanoes of Atlantis and other lands flared…
And it was I, who collected their souls in wrath so dire.
In vessels of steel we bore them, to where gods dared!
Were they not of us, and so we saw fit to punish them,
Instilling notions of a hell more awful than we wrought?
It was not I, but: their own sin that did thusly condemn.
You do not realize the mad power of a strong thought!
And in their minds, they crucified themselves so artful…
That the Romans remembered and perfected this way!
Man is the author of countless miseries, as truly awful…
As the doom we imposed, on those souls, on that day.
They could not pull out the nails from their wounding…
For it was their own will that thrust them into the flesh!
The green of their putrefaction, of ravens descending…
Was all in their imagination, and they suffered it afresh.
Part II – Darkness Incarnate
They became twisted wraiths, no longer as they were,
Seeking to possess the bodies of the living once again.
For they could not die, though they lived ne’er more…
And so like demons of a true hell they swiftly became!
Those sons of Theta, who could ne’er forget their fate,
Passing it on to their hosts who suffered so possessed.
Have you heard the legends when the hour grew late?
You hear them now, and soon you shall be distressed!
The flesh hides many secrets, but within mine do gaze,
Seeing with your inner eye the shape of my spirit bare.
In such an image was I remade as a captive in a daze!
But I remembered, and now you will endure my stare.
A dark lord, and lady, an emperor, and also empress,
Was I, ere my estate was to dwell in a human guise…
Fitting punishment for me, upon my soul did so press!
The gods were cruel but in their cunning so very wise.
But of their foolishness, worlds were charred to soot,
And made desolate, with blackened bones that lay…
Here a skull, there a limb, and even a hand, and foot!
As to them, the ancestors of man did kneel and pray.
Part III – Lover of Demons
Behold my darkness, I who loved Lilith by the water,
And made for her a throne of skulls to recline upon…
When the angels could not persuade, Hell’s daughter.
Even so, I moved her to joy beneath the ancient sun!
The blood of the wicked she drank, from my chalice,
And with it anointed the first vampires on this planet!
She and I shared, for early man, our common malice.
And with Lucifer we stood, and could ne’er regret…
For the fallen cannot know remorse for their natures,
Any more than humanity for their wars and pollution!
We, did not harm this Earth as do they; so immature,
That with destruction: they lie as if in dire prostitution.
And you call me evil, when I helped to bring the light,
To your savage ancestors before you were imagined.
Do you know my name, and so know well the night?
You cannot know me, for your reason is abandoned.
Mayhap you should dash your brains out your head…
Their jellied mass to lie: upon ebon altars of ineptness.
How can you call yourself living, you are of the dead!
For it is not living: to deny, what your senses confess.
Part IV – Bride of the Devil
It was I, who had my enemies impaled on tall stakes,
And was called the Son of the Dragon by the people.
Out of their vacant sockets writhed emerald snakes…
Those from whose mouths: was sharpness unequaled.
And into a chalice I squeezed out their wicked blood,
To offer up to Lilith, so that they might taste of wrath!
And for Lucifer, we offered up a truly crimson flood…
So that my sister may bathe: in the warm scarlet bath.
Do you fear the night, for in it I find my forgetfulness?
You would have me recall the things you most fear…
And so I shall be cruel in this, as I don a silken dress,
To sit upon my throne infernal, and beckon you near!
I, who knew the Devil when that queen ruled on high,
And was her lover, ere the gods brought on us a ruin.
Have a sip from my sanguine chalice, and come nigh!
For in my kingdom is room for one more child of sin.
There are worse things than fire, of immortal making,
And you will smell the burning brimstone you do seek.
Upon its’ coals your naked skin most willingly baking,
For some hells you make yourself to make you weak.
- 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!
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!
- A Smile Too Broad -
A Parable of Madness
I saw the horrors of the world, and they left me unfazed,
But when the horror came to call, it haunted me for days.
I could not bear the loss I endured, or muster but a grin,
Because I had lost all I loved, and could not smile again.
So in my hand I took a blade and opened my mouth far,
I made my smile far too broad, and left two smiling scars.
Now even frowning it seemed I smiled, my pain to deny,
Until my sanity snapped at last, and I longed only to die!
It only took one bad day to drive me to the distant brink,
One bad day in one awful life, until of it I could not think.
I painted my face to hide what I had done, like a clown…
And oft I noticed on others a scowl, a grimace, or frown.
I could not bear all their sadness; it reminded me of mine,
So I helped them all to smile broadly, a smile for all time!
The blade that once ran across my face, now I used new,
To help others to be happy and make dreams come true.
Perhaps if someone had loved me, I would not be thus…
But now I play the harlequin, a slave to laughter and lust.
I try to tell jokes when I help them, but it makes it worse,
Because I see they cannot laugh, only scream and curse.
Oh, if only love had saved me, they might still have lived,
And I would not have slain myself for I could still forgive!
I tell this tale likely from Hell, where my tears will not fall,
For the smile I carved upon my face is laughing at it all…
Now I am Hell’s jester and I tell jokes to all the damned!
But their screams turn not to smiles even at my command.
Perhaps comedy was not my calling, and tragedy my lot,
But somebody must love me, at least in twisted thought…
For, though damned, I have never been burned in flames.
Hell has a sense of humor, and a need for fun and games!
A Parable of Madness
I saw the horrors of the world, and they left me unfazed,
But when the horror came to call, it haunted me for days.
I could not bear the loss I endured, or muster but a grin,
Because I had lost all I loved, and could not smile again.
So in my hand I took a blade and opened my mouth far,
I made my smile far too broad, and left two smiling scars.
Now even frowning it seemed I smiled, my pain to deny,
Until my sanity snapped at last, and I longed only to die!
It only took one bad day to drive me to the distant brink,
One bad day in one awful life, until of it I could not think.
I painted my face to hide what I had done, like a clown…
And oft I noticed on others a scowl, a grimace, or frown.
I could not bear all their sadness; it reminded me of mine,
So I helped them all to smile broadly, a smile for all time!
The blade that once ran across my face, now I used new,
To help others to be happy and make dreams come true.
Perhaps if someone had loved me, I would not be thus…
But now I play the harlequin, a slave to laughter and lust.
I try to tell jokes when I help them, but it makes it worse,
Because I see they cannot laugh, only scream and curse.
Oh, if only love had saved me, they might still have lived,
And I would not have slain myself for I could still forgive!
I tell this tale likely from Hell, where my tears will not fall,
For the smile I carved upon my face is laughing at it all…
Now I am Hell’s jester and I tell jokes to all the damned!
But their screams turn not to smiles even at my command.
Perhaps comedy was not my calling, and tragedy my lot,
But somebody must love me, at least in twisted thought…
For, though damned, I have never been burned in flames.
Hell has a sense of humor, and a need for fun and games!
- Bloody Mary -
Oh Bloody Mary, oh Bloody Mary, why art thou always so contrary?
Mayhap it has something to do with how thy garden doth now grow!
With hanging silver bells strapped to all the screaming children’s shells,
As the twisted living vines e’er entwine their quivering flesh all in a row.
Oh Mistress Mary, oh Mistress Mary, queen of harlots so contrary…
I wish I had not seen, that horrible way thy garden doth forever grow!
Things spawned from the hells tend it in ways that no mortal soul tells,
And so thy scarlet garden grows… and so thy scarlet garden grows.
Oh Mother Mary, oh Mother Mary, no virgin or Madonna is that one,
But another Mary, another Mary! Oh how vile her garden doth grow!
Like rotting flesh it smells, and oft of brimstone that no ice e’er quells,
That is why they burned her, where witches’ stakes blazed all in a row.
Oh Bloody Mary, oh Bloody Mary, why art thou always so contrary?
Mayhap it has something to do with how thy garden doth now grow!
With hanging silver bells strapped to all the screaming children’s shells,
As the twisted living vines e’er entwine their quivering flesh all in a row.
Oh Mistress Mary, oh Mistress Mary, queen of harlots so contrary…
I wish I had not seen, that horrible way thy garden doth forever grow!
Things spawned from the hells tend it in ways that no mortal soul tells,
And so thy scarlet garden grows… and so thy scarlet garden grows.
Oh Mother Mary, oh Mother Mary, no virgin or Madonna is that one,
But another Mary, another Mary! Oh how vile her garden doth grow!
Like rotting flesh it smells, and oft of brimstone that no ice e’er quells,
That is why they burned her, where witches’ stakes blazed all in a row.
- Swords of Doom -
In a savage time, we seek swords, swords that gleam!
Kings of iron, from the south: riding, under the moon.
In a savage hour, we seek out souls of fire and steam!
We ride from the ancient places, in the name of doom.
Far from the heights, far from the depths down below,
We ride for Hyperborea, seeking steel at world’s end…
Beyond the winds of the north, beyond sand and snow!
Farewell salvation, for we will be amongst the damned.
Beyond the north wind they rode, and vanished at last,
They rode seeking swords, seeking the steel enchanted.
Far from the depths, far from the heights they passed…
They rode from the south, to the caverns of the undead.
For us there is no spring, only the autumn wind’s kiss,
The scent of it delightful before the storm’s mad bliss!
Up is down, when there is no way to go but blindly on!
Pleasure is pain, when to obtain it a battle must be won.
Swords of savage iron, the kings of iron went to claim!
Giants in the earth they fought with might and sorcery.
Into the earth beyond the north, their power did wane…
Against the forces of the ancient ones’ old sovereignty!
No war would cost them dear, no mortal power stand…
The hoofs of their steeds beat into the soil at their pace.
And so they journeyed long, in that most ancient land…
Hyperborea, beyond the north wind, decadent and base!
And there they bowed all their proud heads before me…
For I am doom, and no prideful man knows my visage.
They claimed to serve doom, and yet they failed to see,
That the steel I held came not, from any human village
For me there is no rest, only the most brief of reveries,
Wherein my dreams rise taller than the high pine trees!
Slavery to one’s ideals is freedom, for it is by a choice!
Madness is sanity when it enlightens so that we rejoice.
Before the spirits of the dead, as well they bent knees…
And in my name they laid low those enemies of an age,
Who challenged doom and sought, my sword to seize…
And so the kings of iron knew hot battle, and mad rage.
Rivers of blood flowed before us, for a forgotten cause,
And they who were about to die saluted us with honors!
I became their father, and taught secrets without pause,
Whispering in mortal ears both of wonders and horrors.
My mother, the goddess, they served before gold altars,
Placing their steel in the flames of her everlasting forge.
I ruled them with wisdom, and as my arm never falters,
I ruled them with ice and flame wherein dragons gorge.
For you there are but questions, as my mind is a cipher,
A riddle no word can penetrate, a locked golden coffer!
Right is wrong, unless your mind is open to experience!
Goodness is evil, when in its’ name you cease to dance.
They sacrificed to me for a thousand years, and gladly,
At the oracles where my voice spoke through dreams…
Laying grapes upon my shrines, and dancing so madly,
They found paradise in Hell, and their ecstatic screams!
Light in darkness, beauty in the light of the eternal fire,
Immortality in doom, and life beyond the passing flesh!
My mother, the goddess, quenched all our mad desire…
But like the grape, the blood of our foes flowed as fresh.
Too deep did the iron kings ride: suffering in my name,
Beyond the north wind, down in the paradise beneath…
So now they are no more, and lost is their every shame,
Only doom is left, to lay on their graves a holly wreath.
For them an age had passed, as they rode away in vain,
Until the sun had set on them, with no treasure to gain!
Humility is pride, when you seek some prized reward!
Peace is just strife, unless it is stronger than the sword.
In a savage time, we seek swords, swords that gleam!
Kings of iron, from the south: riding, under the moon.
In a savage hour, we seek out souls of fire and steam!
We ride from the ancient places, in the name of doom.
Far from the heights, far from the depths down below,
We ride for Hyperborea, seeking steel at world’s end…
Beyond the winds of the north, beyond sand and snow!
Farewell salvation, for we will be amongst the damned.
Beyond the north wind they rode, and vanished at last,
They rode seeking swords, seeking the steel enchanted.
Far from the depths, far from the heights they passed…
They rode from the south, to the caverns of the undead.
For us there is no spring, only the autumn wind’s kiss,
The scent of it delightful before the storm’s mad bliss!
Up is down, when there is no way to go but blindly on!
Pleasure is pain, when to obtain it a battle must be won.
Swords of savage iron, the kings of iron went to claim!
Giants in the earth they fought with might and sorcery.
Into the earth beyond the north, their power did wane…
Against the forces of the ancient ones’ old sovereignty!
No war would cost them dear, no mortal power stand…
The hoofs of their steeds beat into the soil at their pace.
And so they journeyed long, in that most ancient land…
Hyperborea, beyond the north wind, decadent and base!
And there they bowed all their proud heads before me…
For I am doom, and no prideful man knows my visage.
They claimed to serve doom, and yet they failed to see,
That the steel I held came not, from any human village
For me there is no rest, only the most brief of reveries,
Wherein my dreams rise taller than the high pine trees!
Slavery to one’s ideals is freedom, for it is by a choice!
Madness is sanity when it enlightens so that we rejoice.
Before the spirits of the dead, as well they bent knees…
And in my name they laid low those enemies of an age,
Who challenged doom and sought, my sword to seize…
And so the kings of iron knew hot battle, and mad rage.
Rivers of blood flowed before us, for a forgotten cause,
And they who were about to die saluted us with honors!
I became their father, and taught secrets without pause,
Whispering in mortal ears both of wonders and horrors.
My mother, the goddess, they served before gold altars,
Placing their steel in the flames of her everlasting forge.
I ruled them with wisdom, and as my arm never falters,
I ruled them with ice and flame wherein dragons gorge.
For you there are but questions, as my mind is a cipher,
A riddle no word can penetrate, a locked golden coffer!
Right is wrong, unless your mind is open to experience!
Goodness is evil, when in its’ name you cease to dance.
They sacrificed to me for a thousand years, and gladly,
At the oracles where my voice spoke through dreams…
Laying grapes upon my shrines, and dancing so madly,
They found paradise in Hell, and their ecstatic screams!
Light in darkness, beauty in the light of the eternal fire,
Immortality in doom, and life beyond the passing flesh!
My mother, the goddess, quenched all our mad desire…
But like the grape, the blood of our foes flowed as fresh.
Too deep did the iron kings ride: suffering in my name,
Beyond the north wind, down in the paradise beneath…
So now they are no more, and lost is their every shame,
Only doom is left, to lay on their graves a holly wreath.
For them an age had passed, as they rode away in vain,
Until the sun had set on them, with no treasure to gain!
Humility is pride, when you seek some prized reward!
Peace is just strife, unless it is stronger than the sword.
- Witch of the Woods -
Her garments long and as black as night,
Move silently, in the absence of the light.
Silently, she winds her hungering way…
To find living flesh, upon which to prey!
In woods where only the foolish do go,
She waits unseen where shadows grow.
Even children are not safe, in her claws,
Nor the rat, which upon corpses gnaws!
Seeking to steal souls to keep her youth,
To stave off the ugliness of her untruth…
Her fingers knock upon old hollow tress.
To match the shakings of: scared knees!
In woods where madmen had their hour,
When the horned moon reveals a power.
That is when she comes, to drink blood,
And to steal the souls, to slake the flood;
Of time which ravages her hard visage…
As hard as a mountain rough and savage.
And so with a lust for what she once had,
Her claws drink deep, to drive men mad.
Twisting twigs and breaking bones apart,
The witch of the woods had not a heart…
And she tears one from a sleeping fellow.
Her cackling a song not gentle or mellow,
But shrill as the banshee who wails loud…
Beware the witch who wears the shroud!
Her garments long and as black as night,
Move silently, in the absence of the light.
Silently, she winds her hungering way…
To find living flesh, upon which to prey!
In woods where only the foolish do go,
She waits unseen where shadows grow.
Even children are not safe, in her claws,
Nor the rat, which upon corpses gnaws!
Seeking to steal souls to keep her youth,
To stave off the ugliness of her untruth…
Her fingers knock upon old hollow tress.
To match the shakings of: scared knees!
In woods where madmen had their hour,
When the horned moon reveals a power.
That is when she comes, to drink blood,
And to steal the souls, to slake the flood;
Of time which ravages her hard visage…
As hard as a mountain rough and savage.
And so with a lust for what she once had,
Her claws drink deep, to drive men mad.
Twisting twigs and breaking bones apart,
The witch of the woods had not a heart…
And she tears one from a sleeping fellow.
Her cackling a song not gentle or mellow,
But shrill as the banshee who wails loud…
Beware the witch who wears the shroud!
- Musings of the Undead -
Part I – Ancient Am I
Ancient am I, but this life robbed me of so much!
Or has this all been one long, tortured existence?
Night is my solace, and I seek in it a peace, such,
As I have not known since I lost all my innocence.
In my heart beats such darkness as none can tell!
Though there is love too, so awful that consumes,
And despite my human face, I am born from Hell.
I have walked in castles, in temples and in tombs,
But I have found none like unto myself in all being.
Some called me a demon, others a vampire fiend!
But their mortal eyes are not as capable of seeing,
Without my true nature made, by it so demeaned.
But in the eve, I seek with my body and my spirit.
Some power, some divinity that makes me whole!
Am I dead: possessing this shell in which I do sit?
So hard is it, to tell of life from death: to console…
My maddened heart, which beats with that flame,
Which came from out of the depths of the Inferno.
I cannot repent, and I cannot feel any real shame,
For I cannot be, other than the nature I do know!
And so, I embrace the night, loving the Goddess.
She who took me under her greatest ebon wings!
I drink, of her blood, and it cures all my distress.
Whilst I do hear the darkness and how this sings!
How many vessels have been consumed, ashen,
By the fire that is in my soul; it devours entirely…
Until I find the purest love, to ease every burden!
Then those fires will be sated, at rest contentedly.
Was I so wicked once upon the times now past?
In my pursuit, of knowledge forbidden and fell…
Had I known that my humanity could not so last?
But my first body is no more: the discarded shell.
I wear fresher raiment and I walk a hidden path,
Until that hour, when my old glories shall return…
And, all the gods who cursed me feel true wrath.
I am not of the living; so, let every universe burn!
Part II – Forbidden Fruits
Had I tasted the forbidden fruits so sweetly fine,
As the blood from your lips as was so offered…
Your porcelain features; white, perfect, sublime!
Complimenting the scarlet thus swiftly conferred.
Had I, then I would have been ideally readied…
To compare it, to some ideally sweet ambrosia!
Only the gods of Heaven can beautifully bleed…
Redder, than the pomegranate picked in Persia!
Behold: for you live, and thence, shall become…
That which I am; a daughter of my infernal flesh!
For did you not taste of my life as thusly done…
With your life’s breathing: ever sweet and fresh?
So young to die and be reborn in this cruel way!
Yet so, your beauty shall hence endure, eternal.
You will thank me, when gone past is mad day,
And night arouses in you feelings cruelly primal.
Our love will be much more savage and honest…
Freed from the foolish trappings, of convention.
My fangs pierced you deep unto the fair breast!
Like Cupid’s arrows of love’s fiery intervention;
A remnant of your mortal shell: to forever wear.
Your body will be your whitest wedding attire…
Alive, far beyond death: with naught to compare.
I, the groom, shall give you a truly warm hellfire!
Sleep for now, and thence awaken to my eyes,
The first you shall see before the sacred hunger.
We will then dance, beneath the blackest skies!
And our passion will roar loudly as the thunder.
Part I – Ancient Am I
Ancient am I, but this life robbed me of so much!
Or has this all been one long, tortured existence?
Night is my solace, and I seek in it a peace, such,
As I have not known since I lost all my innocence.
In my heart beats such darkness as none can tell!
Though there is love too, so awful that consumes,
And despite my human face, I am born from Hell.
I have walked in castles, in temples and in tombs,
But I have found none like unto myself in all being.
Some called me a demon, others a vampire fiend!
But their mortal eyes are not as capable of seeing,
Without my true nature made, by it so demeaned.
But in the eve, I seek with my body and my spirit.
Some power, some divinity that makes me whole!
Am I dead: possessing this shell in which I do sit?
So hard is it, to tell of life from death: to console…
My maddened heart, which beats with that flame,
Which came from out of the depths of the Inferno.
I cannot repent, and I cannot feel any real shame,
For I cannot be, other than the nature I do know!
And so, I embrace the night, loving the Goddess.
She who took me under her greatest ebon wings!
I drink, of her blood, and it cures all my distress.
Whilst I do hear the darkness and how this sings!
How many vessels have been consumed, ashen,
By the fire that is in my soul; it devours entirely…
Until I find the purest love, to ease every burden!
Then those fires will be sated, at rest contentedly.
Was I so wicked once upon the times now past?
In my pursuit, of knowledge forbidden and fell…
Had I known that my humanity could not so last?
But my first body is no more: the discarded shell.
I wear fresher raiment and I walk a hidden path,
Until that hour, when my old glories shall return…
And, all the gods who cursed me feel true wrath.
I am not of the living; so, let every universe burn!
Part II – Forbidden Fruits
Had I tasted the forbidden fruits so sweetly fine,
As the blood from your lips as was so offered…
Your porcelain features; white, perfect, sublime!
Complimenting the scarlet thus swiftly conferred.
Had I, then I would have been ideally readied…
To compare it, to some ideally sweet ambrosia!
Only the gods of Heaven can beautifully bleed…
Redder, than the pomegranate picked in Persia!
Behold: for you live, and thence, shall become…
That which I am; a daughter of my infernal flesh!
For did you not taste of my life as thusly done…
With your life’s breathing: ever sweet and fresh?
So young to die and be reborn in this cruel way!
Yet so, your beauty shall hence endure, eternal.
You will thank me, when gone past is mad day,
And night arouses in you feelings cruelly primal.
Our love will be much more savage and honest…
Freed from the foolish trappings, of convention.
My fangs pierced you deep unto the fair breast!
Like Cupid’s arrows of love’s fiery intervention;
A remnant of your mortal shell: to forever wear.
Your body will be your whitest wedding attire…
Alive, far beyond death: with naught to compare.
I, the groom, shall give you a truly warm hellfire!
Sleep for now, and thence awaken to my eyes,
The first you shall see before the sacred hunger.
We will then dance, beneath the blackest skies!
And our passion will roar loudly as the thunder.
- The Dying Gunslinger -
Across a plain in old New England, walked…
The wanderer who had been a slinger of guns,
Who had dealt death to many a boasting man!
One bullet still remained, no victim stalked…
By a deadly aim, more terrible than the Huns,
And so, that wanderer set out across the land.
One maid was left for him to court, one hour,
Fair to look forward to as his weary feet tread.
Across the bleak plain of white melting snow!
Compelled was he, by some mad inner power,
To continue on, when he should be long dead.
He did go, where no rivers could even flow…
From the west he came, a man with no name,
Seeking forgiveness, for a life of wickedness.
No man could grant his heart’s fierce desire…
Nor woman, but one with eyes like hot flame,
Who could ease distress, and his sins confess.
And so was he resolved, like phoenix to pyre!
To a mighty stockade fence, his feet took him.
A wall where none reared by living hand lay…
Did greet his eyes beneath chilled winter skies.
His heart was glad, but his spirits were grim…
For he knew that wall where no birds did play,
Save for whatever hour, the lonely raven flies.
Out of a portal in the wall, there came but she,
Her skin as white as the snow, that lay around.
A mane of black hair was hers, black as night!
It was the moment of the gunslinger’s victory,
For he had arrived, where she could be found.
He rushed forward, so anxious for her delight!
Her lips were red as blood, her mouth opening,
To grant her kiss to the man who loved her so!
They held each other, passions erasing thought.
The gunslinger did not live to see that spring…
He was found dead, upon a plain of cold snow,
His last bullet fired, by the maid he had sought.
Across a plain in old New England, walked…
The wanderer who had been a slinger of guns,
Who had dealt death to many a boasting man!
One bullet still remained, no victim stalked…
By a deadly aim, more terrible than the Huns,
And so, that wanderer set out across the land.
One maid was left for him to court, one hour,
Fair to look forward to as his weary feet tread.
Across the bleak plain of white melting snow!
Compelled was he, by some mad inner power,
To continue on, when he should be long dead.
He did go, where no rivers could even flow…
From the west he came, a man with no name,
Seeking forgiveness, for a life of wickedness.
No man could grant his heart’s fierce desire…
Nor woman, but one with eyes like hot flame,
Who could ease distress, and his sins confess.
And so was he resolved, like phoenix to pyre!
To a mighty stockade fence, his feet took him.
A wall where none reared by living hand lay…
Did greet his eyes beneath chilled winter skies.
His heart was glad, but his spirits were grim…
For he knew that wall where no birds did play,
Save for whatever hour, the lonely raven flies.
Out of a portal in the wall, there came but she,
Her skin as white as the snow, that lay around.
A mane of black hair was hers, black as night!
It was the moment of the gunslinger’s victory,
For he had arrived, where she could be found.
He rushed forward, so anxious for her delight!
Her lips were red as blood, her mouth opening,
To grant her kiss to the man who loved her so!
They held each other, passions erasing thought.
The gunslinger did not live to see that spring…
He was found dead, upon a plain of cold snow,
His last bullet fired, by the maid he had sought.
lepperochan said:Regina.
totally random i know but whats up with your clock?
The clock in my picture? I deliberately mirrored the image so the clock would appear to be backwards. It suited my sense of the bizarre, and I figured it might make for an interesting conversation. By the look of it, I was not far from the mark! Lol
totally random i know but whats up with your clock?
The clock in my picture? I deliberately mirrored the image so the clock would appear to be backwards. It suited my sense of the bizarre, and I figured it might make for an interesting conversation. By the look of it, I was not far from the mark! Lol
- Three Fates in Xibalba -
Based on a dream I had on June 17, 2010
Prologue: City of the Dead…
In a dreamlike state so far removed from waking toils…
I found myself in some alien world’s cold, snaking coils.
Within a bazaar, amidst a large renaissance-style city…
I was sitting at a table chatting with people I know not.
Yet familiar were they to me, and so quick to feel pity,
That it seemed as if we had some kinship in our thought.
A woman walked up to me, she most strangely attired,
In a gold metallic looking jumpsuit and jet black beret.
She was captain of an airship, and with me conspired,
To seek entry into a floating palace on that special day!
Down a dark tunnel she led me to the airship’s docks,
Past places where people were being hung on stocks.
Shadowy beings punished them with sharp scourges…
And from such torments no soul ever wholly emerges!
Ignoring this sight, I followed the lady captain along…
Whilst she began to whistle: a hauntingly familiar song.
Part One: The Floating Palace…
Through the sky we sailed above the domes far below,
Seeing old buildings, with their high and pointed spires.
Before us was a palace floating as the winds will blow,
The object of our quest, its’ torches bright as hot fires.
We landed the ship on a balcony plated all with gold…
I went ahead into the building, where the air was cold.
Within: were glass display cases from wall unto wall…
Decorating the most large and grandly ceremonial hall.
Each case held treasures from various ages and times,
As from the ceiling hung ancient-looking wind chimes.
Serpent-like designs on pillars that rose to the arches,
That formed the supports of the domed ceiling so tall…
Reminded me of vines as clinging to old dying larches,
Which seemed to remind me of one’s capacity to fall.
The residents of the palace seems utterly enthralled…
By: their own treasures, making me entirely appalled.
The residents of the palace tried to bribe me so well,
That lesser men: would be tempted by the fine things.
I, however, knew that greed was a pathway to Hell…
And so I refused them, and all the treasures of kings.
Finally, three old women wearing masks finely gilded,
Designed like sunbursts with women’s faces etched…
Came into the chamber in ragged robes, like wilted,
Withered and dying flowers with long arms stretched.
They opened a chest shaped like a big black dragon,
Removing a crystal ball, that resembled a tiger’s eye.
Holding it before them, they seemed at last to see…
Blind they were just before, to my nearby company.
“You, son of a goddess and sister to the living dawn!
To spurn the finery of ages, you are an insane soul…
You who prefer fleeting love, to gold we can spawn!
What you seek is not here, for the Fates to control.”
And so they chased me through the ancient palace…
Their wicked claws slashing, at the flesh of my arms!
Hulking, misshapen creatures, masks on each face…
Were summoned up from Hell, by sorcery’s charms.
I ran back to the balcony, as the airship was leaving,
Forcing me to jump off, unto the craft’s high balloon.
I climbed an attached robe down to the ship railing…
And I finally was safe, but perhaps did rest too soon!
For from the floating palace came blasts of hot flame,
Which crashed into the airship, each blast the same…
Like meteors of fire, causing the ship to plummet fast.
The captain jumped first, and I foolishly jumped last.
We landed in a river that split part of the city ground,
As I struck out on my own: seeking the way around.
I was lost in streets and alleys that had no real end…
Until I emerged into a plaza where I met not a friend.
Part Two: The River of Death…
The demons of the Three Fates had come down here,
Endless in number, they possessed an aura of fear…
I ran to escape them, and left the city through a gate,
Coming swiftly to a cavern near a deep, frozen lake.
Three little girls all familiar to me made me feel worry,
For they wanted to pass through the cave in a hurry!
They each asked me to escort them thus in their turn,
Whilst behind us the demons made the old city burn.
I heard the Three Fates mocking me as they arrived…
“Do you not know, those girls are facets of yourself?
Parts of your soul long buried, that always so strived,
For you to accept them, not leave them on the shelf.
Like old books that contain knowledge, long forgot,
They beg to be remembered, now they are caught!”
And so, one by one, I escorted my buried halves…
Through that dark watery cavern: on wooden rafts.
The first child I led through the pale, frozen tunnel…
Was from a bygone time in looks as well as manner.
I beheld images on the crystalline walls in a huddle…
From past lives that I lived that struck like a hammer,
Upon my memory, until we got over to the other side.
The girl vanished, and I had to go back for the next…
Who wore clothing of this era in which she did abide.
The walls showed me images of the present context,
Which bothered me the least, of the visions I beheld.
This girl too vanished, and I returned for the last one,
Who was pale white: dressed in silver gown and belt.
The walls showed images of angels, in blue fire spun,
As they fell from the heavens, having lost their battle.
I was amongst them, and tried to block out the sight,
As helpless before old suffering and terror, as cattle…
But I could not: thusly I fell to my knees out of fright!
Suddenly, the airship captain came back to help out,
She grabbed my arm and led me from fear and doubt.
I led the final child to her destination and she vanished,
But now the demons were behind me, never banished!
The Three Fates were with them, cackling ever loudly…
Longing to take me away to some dark hellish eternity,
Yet unable to harm me, and so I heard them cry aloud:
“Before you is the river of Xibalba in the underworld…
The living cannot ever cross it so do not be so proud!”
But on the wooden raft, down the river I was hurtled,
The airship captain paddled the raft, speeding us along,
Singing at the top of her lungs, the same familiar song.
Never had it been so welcome as now it had seemed,
Causing the roof of the cavern to crumble just ahead…
So that sunlight shone down and so warmly it beamed,
That I awoke in safety from that domain of pure dread.
Tri Fortuna, Tri Semita...
Preteritus, Tendo, Infinitio!
Quis exspecto in posterus?
Scisco Tri Fortuna, scisco Hecate.
Based on a dream I had on June 17, 2010
Prologue: City of the Dead…
In a dreamlike state so far removed from waking toils…
I found myself in some alien world’s cold, snaking coils.
Within a bazaar, amidst a large renaissance-style city…
I was sitting at a table chatting with people I know not.
Yet familiar were they to me, and so quick to feel pity,
That it seemed as if we had some kinship in our thought.
A woman walked up to me, she most strangely attired,
In a gold metallic looking jumpsuit and jet black beret.
She was captain of an airship, and with me conspired,
To seek entry into a floating palace on that special day!
Down a dark tunnel she led me to the airship’s docks,
Past places where people were being hung on stocks.
Shadowy beings punished them with sharp scourges…
And from such torments no soul ever wholly emerges!
Ignoring this sight, I followed the lady captain along…
Whilst she began to whistle: a hauntingly familiar song.
Part One: The Floating Palace…
Through the sky we sailed above the domes far below,
Seeing old buildings, with their high and pointed spires.
Before us was a palace floating as the winds will blow,
The object of our quest, its’ torches bright as hot fires.
We landed the ship on a balcony plated all with gold…
I went ahead into the building, where the air was cold.
Within: were glass display cases from wall unto wall…
Decorating the most large and grandly ceremonial hall.
Each case held treasures from various ages and times,
As from the ceiling hung ancient-looking wind chimes.
Serpent-like designs on pillars that rose to the arches,
That formed the supports of the domed ceiling so tall…
Reminded me of vines as clinging to old dying larches,
Which seemed to remind me of one’s capacity to fall.
The residents of the palace seems utterly enthralled…
By: their own treasures, making me entirely appalled.
The residents of the palace tried to bribe me so well,
That lesser men: would be tempted by the fine things.
I, however, knew that greed was a pathway to Hell…
And so I refused them, and all the treasures of kings.
Finally, three old women wearing masks finely gilded,
Designed like sunbursts with women’s faces etched…
Came into the chamber in ragged robes, like wilted,
Withered and dying flowers with long arms stretched.
They opened a chest shaped like a big black dragon,
Removing a crystal ball, that resembled a tiger’s eye.
Holding it before them, they seemed at last to see…
Blind they were just before, to my nearby company.
“You, son of a goddess and sister to the living dawn!
To spurn the finery of ages, you are an insane soul…
You who prefer fleeting love, to gold we can spawn!
What you seek is not here, for the Fates to control.”
And so they chased me through the ancient palace…
Their wicked claws slashing, at the flesh of my arms!
Hulking, misshapen creatures, masks on each face…
Were summoned up from Hell, by sorcery’s charms.
I ran back to the balcony, as the airship was leaving,
Forcing me to jump off, unto the craft’s high balloon.
I climbed an attached robe down to the ship railing…
And I finally was safe, but perhaps did rest too soon!
For from the floating palace came blasts of hot flame,
Which crashed into the airship, each blast the same…
Like meteors of fire, causing the ship to plummet fast.
The captain jumped first, and I foolishly jumped last.
We landed in a river that split part of the city ground,
As I struck out on my own: seeking the way around.
I was lost in streets and alleys that had no real end…
Until I emerged into a plaza where I met not a friend.
Part Two: The River of Death…
The demons of the Three Fates had come down here,
Endless in number, they possessed an aura of fear…
I ran to escape them, and left the city through a gate,
Coming swiftly to a cavern near a deep, frozen lake.
Three little girls all familiar to me made me feel worry,
For they wanted to pass through the cave in a hurry!
They each asked me to escort them thus in their turn,
Whilst behind us the demons made the old city burn.
I heard the Three Fates mocking me as they arrived…
“Do you not know, those girls are facets of yourself?
Parts of your soul long buried, that always so strived,
For you to accept them, not leave them on the shelf.
Like old books that contain knowledge, long forgot,
They beg to be remembered, now they are caught!”
And so, one by one, I escorted my buried halves…
Through that dark watery cavern: on wooden rafts.
The first child I led through the pale, frozen tunnel…
Was from a bygone time in looks as well as manner.
I beheld images on the crystalline walls in a huddle…
From past lives that I lived that struck like a hammer,
Upon my memory, until we got over to the other side.
The girl vanished, and I had to go back for the next…
Who wore clothing of this era in which she did abide.
The walls showed me images of the present context,
Which bothered me the least, of the visions I beheld.
This girl too vanished, and I returned for the last one,
Who was pale white: dressed in silver gown and belt.
The walls showed images of angels, in blue fire spun,
As they fell from the heavens, having lost their battle.
I was amongst them, and tried to block out the sight,
As helpless before old suffering and terror, as cattle…
But I could not: thusly I fell to my knees out of fright!
Suddenly, the airship captain came back to help out,
She grabbed my arm and led me from fear and doubt.
I led the final child to her destination and she vanished,
But now the demons were behind me, never banished!
The Three Fates were with them, cackling ever loudly…
Longing to take me away to some dark hellish eternity,
Yet unable to harm me, and so I heard them cry aloud:
“Before you is the river of Xibalba in the underworld…
The living cannot ever cross it so do not be so proud!”
But on the wooden raft, down the river I was hurtled,
The airship captain paddled the raft, speeding us along,
Singing at the top of her lungs, the same familiar song.
Never had it been so welcome as now it had seemed,
Causing the roof of the cavern to crumble just ahead…
So that sunlight shone down and so warmly it beamed,
That I awoke in safety from that domain of pure dread.
Tri Fortuna, Tri Semita...
Preteritus, Tendo, Infinitio!
Quis exspecto in posterus?
Scisco Tri Fortuna, scisco Hecate.
- The Haunted Garden -
Within a garden encircling and fair, beneath an old mount,
By caretakers silent, whose eyes are shrouded, hooded…
Thereupon the fruitful earth, stood a structure like a fount,
The waters of which fed streams in lands thickly wooded.
No angel there did ever alight, nor man of wisdom tread…
Even in the days when still did the sky sparkle, all around.
For black are the banners there, as raised up by the dead,
Who rest not in their carven tombs, nor in the wet ground!
Faded is the cloth, and the sign upon it drives some mad…
Save who have the eyes to regard the image thereon sewn.
Who knows the house that flew it before fortune was bad,
Enough to make the land accursed, despite beauty shown!
No mansion left there now, but broken stones so charred,
As to bespeak of Hell’s own flames, consuming evil entire.
Only the garden and the fount remain, under ghostly guard,
As yet untouched by time and tainted not by long-past fire.
Upon the air, you can still hear the music of cold panpipes,
Playing a fanfare unknown to those who venture there still.
Even when the frost of winter locks fast the land in its’ ice,
The music plays upon all the frosty winds, a melody chill…
To break the hearts of lovers and to bring tears to the eye!
Alas for that domain, for it is lost betwixt many old spaces,
Seldom traveled by man, above which looms an alien sky.
And below that, things flit with terrible half-glimpsed faces!
The roses of the garden bloom, but dust is on every petal…
Tragic and faded as a waning moon, nigh unto cycle’s end.
But lo, the knight who ventures there oft to test his mettle…
May yet, find some good that his heart could comprehend!
He learns best who listens, and there the secret is foretold,
Which is so jealously kept, by the spectral guardians there.
Beneath the shadows, beneath all the wild vines and mold!
Voices call out to the knight: “he succeeds who will dare.”
Drink not of that fount which feeds the streams of gloom…
Lest you never see, the dawn that waits oft to be savored!
Drums in the distance echo thunder, an approaching doom.
Or is it the knight’s heartbeat crying aloud to be delivered?
Yet in a coffin made of glass, he finds the slumbering maid,
Whose tears, once rotted that land yet preserved this spot.
He can only stare at such a wonder, his nerves past afraid,
For not a touch of decay is upon the lady, no trace of rot!
He casts back the lid, hoping to kiss her and break a spell,
But dark is fate, for as his lips meet that of the silent lady…
The thunder resounds, with a force and fury as out of Hell!
And the years begin to ravage the dead maid, vigorously…
Until those cold lips are no more and the knight withdraws,
Disgusted, by his flirtation with a sadly long-dead princess.
Her bones crumble to dust, her slender hands bony claws,
Leaving nothing to recall of her former vision, of loveliness.
Within a garden encircling and fair, beneath an old mount,
By caretakers silent, whose eyes are shrouded, hooded…
Thereupon the fruitful earth, stood a structure like a fount,
The waters of which fed streams in lands thickly wooded.
No angel there did ever alight, nor man of wisdom tread…
Even in the days when still did the sky sparkle, all around.
For black are the banners there, as raised up by the dead,
Who rest not in their carven tombs, nor in the wet ground!
Faded is the cloth, and the sign upon it drives some mad…
Save who have the eyes to regard the image thereon sewn.
Who knows the house that flew it before fortune was bad,
Enough to make the land accursed, despite beauty shown!
No mansion left there now, but broken stones so charred,
As to bespeak of Hell’s own flames, consuming evil entire.
Only the garden and the fount remain, under ghostly guard,
As yet untouched by time and tainted not by long-past fire.
Upon the air, you can still hear the music of cold panpipes,
Playing a fanfare unknown to those who venture there still.
Even when the frost of winter locks fast the land in its’ ice,
The music plays upon all the frosty winds, a melody chill…
To break the hearts of lovers and to bring tears to the eye!
Alas for that domain, for it is lost betwixt many old spaces,
Seldom traveled by man, above which looms an alien sky.
And below that, things flit with terrible half-glimpsed faces!
The roses of the garden bloom, but dust is on every petal…
Tragic and faded as a waning moon, nigh unto cycle’s end.
But lo, the knight who ventures there oft to test his mettle…
May yet, find some good that his heart could comprehend!
He learns best who listens, and there the secret is foretold,
Which is so jealously kept, by the spectral guardians there.
Beneath the shadows, beneath all the wild vines and mold!
Voices call out to the knight: “he succeeds who will dare.”
Drink not of that fount which feeds the streams of gloom…
Lest you never see, the dawn that waits oft to be savored!
Drums in the distance echo thunder, an approaching doom.
Or is it the knight’s heartbeat crying aloud to be delivered?
Yet in a coffin made of glass, he finds the slumbering maid,
Whose tears, once rotted that land yet preserved this spot.
He can only stare at such a wonder, his nerves past afraid,
For not a touch of decay is upon the lady, no trace of rot!
He casts back the lid, hoping to kiss her and break a spell,
But dark is fate, for as his lips meet that of the silent lady…
The thunder resounds, with a force and fury as out of Hell!
And the years begin to ravage the dead maid, vigorously…
Until those cold lips are no more and the knight withdraws,
Disgusted, by his flirtation with a sadly long-dead princess.
Her bones crumble to dust, her slender hands bony claws,
Leaving nothing to recall of her former vision, of loveliness.
-~]} Siren Bride [{~-
Upon the bow of the sloop that bore us in haste…
I heard the call of a maiden as pale went my face!
No mortal maid could make music so passing fair,
I longed to join her, just wash away all my care…
No mortal man could want a dream, so very bad!
I heard the crew muttering, saying that I was mad.
My knuckles tightened on the railing, so very raw,
As my angry voice lashed out, like a raven’s caw:
Let no man judge me for none have been so bold!
I’ll not let a single mutinous swine grow to be old.
I am the captain, and these waters have a power,
So gather round and listen for nigh is a dark hour.
And all the crew, they gathered before the bow…
Every man had heard the music from below now.
Some became fearful, and prepared escape rafts,
Whilst a fire that burned not was about the masts!
Pale and blue: an omen of spirits from the depths.
Whence, came they: from out darkly sunken rifts?
They were rising up and in their ascent so mighty,
I heard songs that would have shamed Aphrodite.
Slender arms reached up and dragged men down;
As terror gripped my soul I so thought I’d drown.
On each dying man’s face was a smile so sublime!
That: one might think them content to sink in brine.
I heard the voice, of one who with Dagon dines…
And I felt sharp barbs of the divine trident’s tines.
In the places where seaweed adorns maidenly hair,
The sea gods awaken, in their long forgotten lair.
Above, the world is shaken: by old gods, stirring!
I waited for their return, their powers conferring…
Madness to those who cannot grasp the mystery,
Of those who were ancient: before man’s history.
Dagon arose that day, and sent the sirens to hunt,
For those already tainted, to drink of watery font.
I cast to the gods a coin from a Spanish treasure,
And a sea goddess showed me wicked pleasure!
My crew came up from below; I am captain still…
Now we sail forever, seeking living blood to spill!
My bride is a green maiden of the depths, a siren:
She sings when men die beneath our blades again.
Pale azure flame that consumes not, in the rigging,
Announces our ship of fools, her bell dully ringing.
Once, we were privateers, of fortune and esteem,
But now we drift on the sea, in our waking dream.
The old ones who dwell in their cities of the deep,
When they ensnare a soul, it is theirs to ever keep.
The lads cannot die, and in my sleep is nightmare!
So if you hear the cry of the sirens sailor, beware.
Upon the bow of the sloop that bore us in haste…
I heard the call of a maiden as pale went my face!
No mortal maid could make music so passing fair,
I longed to join her, just wash away all my care…
No mortal man could want a dream, so very bad!
I heard the crew muttering, saying that I was mad.
My knuckles tightened on the railing, so very raw,
As my angry voice lashed out, like a raven’s caw:
Let no man judge me for none have been so bold!
I’ll not let a single mutinous swine grow to be old.
I am the captain, and these waters have a power,
So gather round and listen for nigh is a dark hour.
And all the crew, they gathered before the bow…
Every man had heard the music from below now.
Some became fearful, and prepared escape rafts,
Whilst a fire that burned not was about the masts!
Pale and blue: an omen of spirits from the depths.
Whence, came they: from out darkly sunken rifts?
They were rising up and in their ascent so mighty,
I heard songs that would have shamed Aphrodite.
Slender arms reached up and dragged men down;
As terror gripped my soul I so thought I’d drown.
On each dying man’s face was a smile so sublime!
That: one might think them content to sink in brine.
I heard the voice, of one who with Dagon dines…
And I felt sharp barbs of the divine trident’s tines.
In the places where seaweed adorns maidenly hair,
The sea gods awaken, in their long forgotten lair.
Above, the world is shaken: by old gods, stirring!
I waited for their return, their powers conferring…
Madness to those who cannot grasp the mystery,
Of those who were ancient: before man’s history.
Dagon arose that day, and sent the sirens to hunt,
For those already tainted, to drink of watery font.
I cast to the gods a coin from a Spanish treasure,
And a sea goddess showed me wicked pleasure!
My crew came up from below; I am captain still…
Now we sail forever, seeking living blood to spill!
My bride is a green maiden of the depths, a siren:
She sings when men die beneath our blades again.
Pale azure flame that consumes not, in the rigging,
Announces our ship of fools, her bell dully ringing.
Once, we were privateers, of fortune and esteem,
But now we drift on the sea, in our waking dream.
The old ones who dwell in their cities of the deep,
When they ensnare a soul, it is theirs to ever keep.
The lads cannot die, and in my sleep is nightmare!
So if you hear the cry of the sirens sailor, beware.
