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 Gate of Ganzir ][-
“Ninnghidzhidda aperi portam Ganzir!
Aperuerit portam, Ninnghizhidda, ego intrare!
Est Draco Imperat tibi!”
Somewhere south of all the courts of the gods on high,
Beneath the mountains where the waterfalls do pour…
Rots the ruins of a city in rubble bleak beneath the sky.
There will wait the siblings, the scorpion lady and lord!
Once golden spires and ziggurats did in splendor reign,
Before the fall of a planet when Marduk vented fury…
Upon the children of the Dragon Queen, prideful, vain.
Now all that endures, is this one-time sacred colony…
To think that once I held a court, amidst the opulence!
But hidden there by the ruins beneath those mountains,
The Cavern of the Gate waits silently in awful patience.
It leads to a land oft watered by netherworld fountains.
Kurnugia, Land of No Return, where the dead dwell…
Amidst shimmering sunken cities, eating dust as bread!
It is but one region of the places men think of as Hell…
And its’ queen, is androgynous Ganzir, Lady of Dread.
Bride of the Dragon of Kur, a dead but dreaming god,
High priest of star-born kin who served older powers!
She reigns alone, in her city beneath the soil and sod…
The bride of the dreamer: who waits for the final hours.
Behold the Gate, and the keeper who waits beyond…
The mistress of the key comes to bring forth the flame!
Go not into the depths darkly shimmering, if ever fond,
Of the azure skies above, which will ne’er be the same.
The Lady of the Wand is like unto a horned serpent…
Gatekeeper of the infernal gods’ own sovereign glories.
She holds dominion, over the seven-portal covenant…
Ninnghidzhidda holds the vigil as writ in the lost stories!
When the dead rise, to smell the incense of life again…
She will place her plumed crown aside, and do naught.
We are the lost ones, from a time before time did gain,
From lands beyond the stars, from ages old as thought.
In the company of bright angels and dark, I did survive,
When the powers of divinities waned and waxed loftily.
Now I pen this verse that the elder histories may thrive,
For the gods are forgetful, and they recall but absently!
They choose not to remember, what they have done…
Which the fallen of old cannot easily forgive: nor forget.
The songs of the ancients I know, for them I have sung,
When they were new, and caused archangels to regret.
When the time is come the Dragon of Kur will awaken,
And the queen who waits, will wait no longer to rise up.
The dead will put aside the dust of which was partaken,
To walk in living flesh again, and from new chalices sup.
The Gate of Ganzir will open and Hell shall be emptied,
As she goes forth to claim those who were ever hers…
Only the faithful of Ishtar would by her malice be pitied.
For those she cannot touch by blessing or by vile curse!
Beware the Gate, beware the seven seals that bind it…
For when the seals are broken, judgment shall soon fall.
On another world the line of the queen ruled fair and fit,
The old blood still lives on in mankind, and cannot stall!
The great old one who slumbers knows man’s thoughts,
And even the warlike Nergal could not seize his palace.
There, Ganzir upon a throne of skulls eternally haunts…
With Lilith, as her messenger: heir, to her infernal grace.
I have walked within their halls, sat upon a vacant seat,
Reserved for the Dragon of Kur alone, an honor grand.
There I was welcomed, so warmly the queen did greet,
One much older, than he who slumbers below her land!
Her short black hair and piercing eyes of mirthless dark,
So like Lilith’s, and pale is their skin like whitest ivory…
Beautiful and alien to behold, in that land strangely stark.
Yet the gardens of that place are unsurpassed in beauty!
Words cannot describe the delights of the Elysian Fields.
That there is paradise even in Hell is proof of some love,
Some compassion, that neither relents, nor ever yields…
Between who reigns below, and those who serve above.
The draconic title was mine of old, and with such bias…
Perhaps, I exalt that which others would soon condemn.
Yet I have stood even in Heaven, seen the seas of glass,
I beheld the source of creation whence all things stem…
And there I found no malice left, ‘twixt angels and devils.
Man alone defines with hatred, as did the deities of yore,
Who exiled we whom they understood not, seeing ills…
Where there was merely a desire, for liberty, once more.
The Gate of Ganzir waits to this day, in its’ hidden realm,
Unseen save by those with the sight, unhindered to flow,
Beyond the ken of mortals: who know not the true ways.
Only illumination can open the paths above and below…
Light beyond the moon and sun, with more blinding rays.
“Ninnghidzhidda aperi portam Ganzir!
Aperuerit portam, Ninnghizhidda, ego intrare!
Est Draco Imperat tibi!”
Somewhere south of all the courts of the gods on high,
Beneath the mountains where the waterfalls do pour…
Rots the ruins of a city in rubble bleak beneath the sky.
There will wait the siblings, the scorpion lady and lord!
Once golden spires and ziggurats did in splendor reign,
Before the fall of a planet when Marduk vented fury…
Upon the children of the Dragon Queen, prideful, vain.
Now all that endures, is this one-time sacred colony…
To think that once I held a court, amidst the opulence!
But hidden there by the ruins beneath those mountains,
The Cavern of the Gate waits silently in awful patience.
It leads to a land oft watered by netherworld fountains.
Kurnugia, Land of No Return, where the dead dwell…
Amidst shimmering sunken cities, eating dust as bread!
It is but one region of the places men think of as Hell…
And its’ queen, is androgynous Ganzir, Lady of Dread.
Bride of the Dragon of Kur, a dead but dreaming god,
High priest of star-born kin who served older powers!
She reigns alone, in her city beneath the soil and sod…
The bride of the dreamer: who waits for the final hours.
Behold the Gate, and the keeper who waits beyond…
The mistress of the key comes to bring forth the flame!
Go not into the depths darkly shimmering, if ever fond,
Of the azure skies above, which will ne’er be the same.
The Lady of the Wand is like unto a horned serpent…
Gatekeeper of the infernal gods’ own sovereign glories.
She holds dominion, over the seven-portal covenant…
Ninnghidzhidda holds the vigil as writ in the lost stories!
When the dead rise, to smell the incense of life again…
She will place her plumed crown aside, and do naught.
We are the lost ones, from a time before time did gain,
From lands beyond the stars, from ages old as thought.
In the company of bright angels and dark, I did survive,
When the powers of divinities waned and waxed loftily.
Now I pen this verse that the elder histories may thrive,
For the gods are forgetful, and they recall but absently!
They choose not to remember, what they have done…
Which the fallen of old cannot easily forgive: nor forget.
The songs of the ancients I know, for them I have sung,
When they were new, and caused archangels to regret.
When the time is come the Dragon of Kur will awaken,
And the queen who waits, will wait no longer to rise up.
The dead will put aside the dust of which was partaken,
To walk in living flesh again, and from new chalices sup.
The Gate of Ganzir will open and Hell shall be emptied,
As she goes forth to claim those who were ever hers…
Only the faithful of Ishtar would by her malice be pitied.
For those she cannot touch by blessing or by vile curse!
Beware the Gate, beware the seven seals that bind it…
For when the seals are broken, judgment shall soon fall.
On another world the line of the queen ruled fair and fit,
The old blood still lives on in mankind, and cannot stall!
The great old one who slumbers knows man’s thoughts,
And even the warlike Nergal could not seize his palace.
There, Ganzir upon a throne of skulls eternally haunts…
With Lilith, as her messenger: heir, to her infernal grace.
I have walked within their halls, sat upon a vacant seat,
Reserved for the Dragon of Kur alone, an honor grand.
There I was welcomed, so warmly the queen did greet,
One much older, than he who slumbers below her land!
Her short black hair and piercing eyes of mirthless dark,
So like Lilith’s, and pale is their skin like whitest ivory…
Beautiful and alien to behold, in that land strangely stark.
Yet the gardens of that place are unsurpassed in beauty!
Words cannot describe the delights of the Elysian Fields.
That there is paradise even in Hell is proof of some love,
Some compassion, that neither relents, nor ever yields…
Between who reigns below, and those who serve above.
The draconic title was mine of old, and with such bias…
Perhaps, I exalt that which others would soon condemn.
Yet I have stood even in Heaven, seen the seas of glass,
I beheld the source of creation whence all things stem…
And there I found no malice left, ‘twixt angels and devils.
Man alone defines with hatred, as did the deities of yore,
Who exiled we whom they understood not, seeing ills…
Where there was merely a desire, for liberty, once more.
The Gate of Ganzir waits to this day, in its’ hidden realm,
Unseen save by those with the sight, unhindered to flow,
Beyond the ken of mortals: who know not the true ways.
Only illumination can open the paths above and below…
Light beyond the moon and sun, with more blinding rays.
- Darkness Like Light -
Before the gate unfathomable I stand, to feel the thrill…
And so I pass beyond the ancient threshold so oft silent.
Into the heart of velvet darkness: grief and rage to kill…
No hourglass, to chart of a single mortal hour’s ascent.
I came to regions under the Abyss, to the endless water.
Then, into that shimmer I gazed, your eyes gazing back.
I saw therein my true self, my own spirit burning hotter,
Clad in silken gowns, garments of darkness, ebon black.
I know not what I ever could have sought in the old ruins…
Perhaps I was seeking of the reason, for man’s madness!
But long I tarried there in shadow, lost, and utterly lonely.
Perhaps I was, after a fashion, atoning for all my past sins,
Or, contemplating new ones yet untried, in silent sadness!
And that is when I saw standing near me a maid, comely.
Just a gentle young girl with clear eyes as blue as the sky,
And whose long, soft hair was golden, as the sun’s rays…
With her voice being too perfect in melody, to ever deny.
But, in such an innocent guise, the Devil hunts and preys!
Like a wraith made into form of flesh, out of perdition!
In that image so you had made me, in dark magic born,
Or reborn, into a fairer form of your maddest creation!
I descend further, blowing on the old summoning horn:
Known only to the lords and ladies with a darkest soul,
A soul: as to make the damned shed flesh, as clothing…
I shed the weakest part of my fears, with great control.
My will, allows me to withstand the pains of becoming!
It is said she lives in places so mysterious, even desolate,
As that ancient forgotten temple, which I was exploring…
But in this modern age of simple reason no one believes!
The girl walked towards me with a manner so desperate,
Whilst several harmonious blended voices came poring…
From that sweet, angelic face that with its’ ease deceives.
And, into those deepest blue eyes, I hypnotically gazed…
Made blindly at ease to any true peril by beautiful singing.
I felt such spiritual adoration, that it made me one dazed,
As I knelt before her, my profound piety thusly bringing!
One with the emerald fire was I: a truly great burden!
The souls of dead sorcerers beheld and so of old saw,
The way I so overcame, the holy flame’s great warden.
At my whisper, she left idle her sharply hidden claw!
Forbidden knowledge: that stuff, of long lost legends,
I have learned the truths of, in the black arcane lore.
And through that gate, where that terrible path ends,
I have gone bodily; and so shall venture, never more!
She was a spirit of the light so pure that must be divine,
But within that light was a much more refined darkness.
And within that dark, a second light of wanton rapture!
I embraced her unleashed power; I had made it mine…
Letting all her will, vanquish all of my mortal weakness.
For we were spirits as can be called kindred in nature!
Once, I feared the dark, but I fear the dark no longer.
Its’ secret reptilian mind, was not quite so alien to me,
But so familiar to my memory, it makes me stronger…
For the darkness, like light, helps us more clearly see.
Before the gate unfathomable I stand, to feel the thrill…
And so I pass beyond the ancient threshold so oft silent.
Into the heart of velvet darkness: grief and rage to kill…
No hourglass, to chart of a single mortal hour’s ascent.
I came to regions under the Abyss, to the endless water.
Then, into that shimmer I gazed, your eyes gazing back.
I saw therein my true self, my own spirit burning hotter,
Clad in silken gowns, garments of darkness, ebon black.
I know not what I ever could have sought in the old ruins…
Perhaps I was seeking of the reason, for man’s madness!
But long I tarried there in shadow, lost, and utterly lonely.
Perhaps I was, after a fashion, atoning for all my past sins,
Or, contemplating new ones yet untried, in silent sadness!
And that is when I saw standing near me a maid, comely.
Just a gentle young girl with clear eyes as blue as the sky,
And whose long, soft hair was golden, as the sun’s rays…
With her voice being too perfect in melody, to ever deny.
But, in such an innocent guise, the Devil hunts and preys!
Like a wraith made into form of flesh, out of perdition!
In that image so you had made me, in dark magic born,
Or reborn, into a fairer form of your maddest creation!
I descend further, blowing on the old summoning horn:
Known only to the lords and ladies with a darkest soul,
A soul: as to make the damned shed flesh, as clothing…
I shed the weakest part of my fears, with great control.
My will, allows me to withstand the pains of becoming!
It is said she lives in places so mysterious, even desolate,
As that ancient forgotten temple, which I was exploring…
But in this modern age of simple reason no one believes!
The girl walked towards me with a manner so desperate,
Whilst several harmonious blended voices came poring…
From that sweet, angelic face that with its’ ease deceives.
And, into those deepest blue eyes, I hypnotically gazed…
Made blindly at ease to any true peril by beautiful singing.
I felt such spiritual adoration, that it made me one dazed,
As I knelt before her, my profound piety thusly bringing!
One with the emerald fire was I: a truly great burden!
The souls of dead sorcerers beheld and so of old saw,
The way I so overcame, the holy flame’s great warden.
At my whisper, she left idle her sharply hidden claw!
Forbidden knowledge: that stuff, of long lost legends,
I have learned the truths of, in the black arcane lore.
And through that gate, where that terrible path ends,
I have gone bodily; and so shall venture, never more!
She was a spirit of the light so pure that must be divine,
But within that light was a much more refined darkness.
And within that dark, a second light of wanton rapture!
I embraced her unleashed power; I had made it mine…
Letting all her will, vanquish all of my mortal weakness.
For we were spirits as can be called kindred in nature!
Once, I feared the dark, but I fear the dark no longer.
Its’ secret reptilian mind, was not quite so alien to me,
But so familiar to my memory, it makes me stronger…
For the darkness, like light, helps us more clearly see.
The Hell of Who?
there once is a life twas just cant see
from the depths of hell came to be
forming of a dark hidden place
surround by fire in every space.
smooches and kisses will lead to hell
hidden in darkness no one could tell.
evil, hole, and hull come from the same root
to look apone satins hellion boot.
just that simple wish to sell your soul.
to play apone his evil role.
so theologians got into the act
were hell no longer became a myth of fact.
The Goddess of Hell from the Norse mythology
Became Satan, hero of most eschatology.
the darkness from his incendiary eyes.
told only a story to you full of lies.
the way his world is braud and wide.
evilness surrounds us no longer it hide
there once is a life twas just cant see
from the depths of hell came to be
so theologians got into the act
were hell no longer became a myth of fact.
The Goddess of Hell from the Norse mythology
Became Satan, hero of most eschatology
-Kumiko Yamamoto
there once is a life twas just cant see
from the depths of hell came to be
forming of a dark hidden place
surround by fire in every space.
smooches and kisses will lead to hell
hidden in darkness no one could tell.
evil, hole, and hull come from the same root
to look apone satins hellion boot.
just that simple wish to sell your soul.
to play apone his evil role.
so theologians got into the act
were hell no longer became a myth of fact.
The Goddess of Hell from the Norse mythology
Became Satan, hero of most eschatology.
the darkness from his incendiary eyes.
told only a story to you full of lies.
the way his world is braud and wide.
evilness surrounds us no longer it hide
there once is a life twas just cant see
from the depths of hell came to be
so theologians got into the act
were hell no longer became a myth of fact.
The Goddess of Hell from the Norse mythology
Became Satan, hero of most eschatology
-Kumiko Yamamoto
