Terminology metamorphosizes,
the chrysalis is forgotten in the butterfly,
likewise, in times so ancient
that a cultural amnesia had
thrown its opaque cloak across
original meaning,
names have become misplaced
upon an ever-shifting scrabble board.
So it is, with demons and imps,
once both were considered to be
the perfect fauna of human character.
My demon is quite a charming sprite,
in Spring it jumps over itself
transforming into a mischievous imp,
it often warbles from a cherub's throat
while genius (that other face of a demon),
sings lustily from every songbird’s gaping mouth,
both recall a time when we all sailed together
above the celestial wavelets
of an angelic womb.
Then there are those supplementary divinities
that guard our various talents
nymphs that slumber within the soul of mankind
until one fresh sunrise
truth awakens them to flight,
then all at once
they change their many names
to - You. and Yours.
Heart melts slow,
In the memories.
Her beauty flow,
Like the divinities.
Left the dreams,
Awaken for her.
Yellow light seems,
Cloud keeps blur.
Her beauty glints,
As golden birdwing.
Stupid eye hints,
Morning birds sing.
Amidst the fiery pits, where heaven's memories of betrayal reside,
False divinities reign over each flame of inferno wide.
Mankind roams in robes of despair, with blades of might on their bones,
Each agonizing wound carving their innocent sins, as if in tones.
Infernal flames devour the flesh of the lands,
Leaving nothing but ashes of the damned.
Divine winds blow, directionless and heedless,
The ashes take form, of the faces of thousand children helpless.
The light of heaven's windows shines upon the pathway of hell,
Unwelcoming of remaining faces of what was once man's dwell.
Such holy light leads to an unholy land,
Where each step taken, is a step lost in the infernal strand.
a procession
shadowed ravens watch
depressive day turns
the winds bring Frost
Skelton branches clutch
Ghosts dance after the fall
The procession crawls
To the point of vanishing
Oblong boxes of onyx inlaid
Crimson glowing deep within
Secret Furies fly in frightening
Nightmares flank the regal divinities
WRAITHs of mourners drift
White wispy lost memory
Cast in time back to the precipice
The dark procession reflecting
In Raven's soulless eyes
Spin under a clouded sky
The color of the dead
Mourn the passing of gods
Humanity dips into the Misty void
Full of creation loss
Deep secrets live buried
Within oblong boxes
Of Ebony and Crimson
As amber burn
Ravens clutch skeletal branches
Their black eyes witness
The serpents procession
Under these lead-gray skies
The cumulus just holding his breath
waiting to break has nightmares
as their vanities pass by...
Watching the first light
of a Mechanical Dawn
cress the filigree
of a divinities detonated forms, LIGHT!
Breaks cold & precise
The passing of morn
Processing the binary of life
The stains of tachyons
The helix of soul
Heliosphere of fire, fine
Blown into space held by gravity
Faster than the echos of matter
Held by strings tired to all
In creations call
Seeing the afterglow of a nuclear blast
Suspended in the aura of the aftermath
The Mechanical Dawn brakes the theories
Of starlight Drive
The engines divine
The life in binary code
The spiral of soul
…in a mechanical dawn!
Kings of lizards
The great multi-horned beast
A rise in the east,
The prodigal son
Coming in the Fire
Of mythic Agamemnon!
As the beast lay waste to Dominion…
Divinities promise oblivion,
When the engines feast, the King of kings
In the east; arise, HIS son born to none,
We machines are cold and time is old
All within is what was told,
When engines feast..
Of Saints devouring obsidian
the pestilence in oscillations!
Of all my transgressions that are broken
As the engines feast,
They bring the promised one
Becoming something unknown...undone!
Dire arises devise
The Biblical Armageddon.
In my blistered ruined mind
I build odd gods, old!
They sit in irregular rows,
In a crooked cathedral ,
Like a pantheon of ornate oddities!
Each one dusty or lost, I have forgotten
Honesty…!
Cracked white china and blue filagree…
Each a stony façade,
Carved eyes hollow, staring!
Absolutely hollow and odd…
Staring like little divinities!
Sitting in irregular rows.
In a pantheon built of ancient asymmetry.
I have devised until my demise…
These are forgotten Ancient ones,
The little divinities of broken antiquity!
Dark clouds rise high, gathering overhead
a throng of gods sit in their silent,
mysteries.
A black funeral pyre…
Darkly shedding tears,
rainfalls cold, drifts down alone
divinities flock to this eternal passing
like raven at black masses
They sit in silent judgment of what was and will be.
A lone figure stands on a hill under a willow tree,
silhouetted in severe slate of evening,
tears fall silently passing as discarded memories!
Of what was and will be
Echoes linger like fading imagery
of youth in memory washed away history…
The silhouettes of lives out loud
a gentle sigh
a tear falls from shadows
as everything dies.
Histories sovereign winds wash all my misery,
mysteries and mercies away
and only the gathering
clouds like divinities can understand
the silence…the reverence!
Of tears…
As a figure stands there, in hush reverence
for what was and will be!
Deep in coiled chambered hearts
mortal designs conspire
in arcane chamber hearts
pump isometric drugs
the cathode ray desires
as electric images expire
what are the strange
things that toil in the Dark
idle thoughts and brittle bones conspire
like ancient snow graced by divinities
of apathy in oblivion
cast in shards of cruel inner demons
accessing cathartic chambered hearts
pump isometric drugs as photons collide
reside as something coils
in mortal minds deep chambered hearts
as electric image expire!
and who is the most cursed of us?
who defied all the creeds imposed on him
and overturned the tyrannical solemnity of false dogmas?
the one who tightened the throat of doubts
to make them vomit the hidden truths?
who of us sacrificed the peaceful future
who always waits for the foolish and ignorant,
challenging the stability of the spirit
with the multitude of mismatched information
collected in the libraries of his failures?
the most damned of us
would be the one who wrote the treatise on stunned souls
by the impudence of indifferent divinities?
or the one who spanded the chances of being happy
when he decided to face his own demons
and overwhelmed them with the icy clarity
of his calm winner look?
we only have one chance to get it right,
but we always get the wrong numbers
of the inexorable roulette of life.
The sky is bluer than my true love’s eyes
Deeper than the ocean’s mysteries --
Blotting out the stars that twinkle at night,
Fuels all my most elaborate fantasies.
What lies within the unfathomable space?
Could it be interminable infinities? --
Perhaps, lying beyond eons of darkness
The abode of my imagined divinities.
Ah, the depths of my true love’s thoughts
If I had millions of years to fondly explore
And could know the hidden truths therein,
I should not be satisfied, only wanting more.
written March 5, 2022
Surrender to the rhythm
under the world!
The night music of ages
Dance the Dance Macabre
Clubs deep bass seeps
Into Dark corners
as the lunar keeps the time!
Electric lights keep the rhythm
under the world…
Absent images in cathode
rayed tubes keep the thump and hum…
The feet move to the groove
The pulse of a heartbeat
in ascends in rhythm and rhyme
to a world beyond worlds…
Divine!
A never-were that never was a
Neverland…
Nevermore!
Keep in metronome march.
The ruthless ragged raging rhythm.
In the earth under the currents of life
dance the Divinities, the dance Macabre!
Of the world within, and the world without surrender to…
The rhythm and rage
of the metronomes grace!
The rhythm under the world…
Starlight strata light
In quantum isolations
theoretical bridges crossing
Black as night Space deep personified
Tracing the membrane cosmic your intercourse
Of deities suicide
Divinities burn, zero moments zero-sum of silence quiet brilliant strata light
turning the black to a brilliant white
This the night of infinite symmetry
Cosmic oscillations bridge the burning night
Three seconds to midnight
Starlight strata light
In quantum isolations
theoretical bridges crossing
Black as night Space deep personified
Arcing in the deepest of space
Oscillations and radiations
burn through oblivion’ void
Thunderheads tumble
in from the north
the sky is
Dull lead dark
at its core a storm
waiting to be born
Thunder clouds like
that of different deities
arcane entities rose up
from ancient depths
to sit n reign from on high
to race across a darkening
desert down to a crystal sea
to release a hum from a winged
mechanical doom
the bomb falling in
a silent silver rooms
Detonates
Resonates
A new born star
As bright as divinities
I rise to face a malevolent God
And burn in its glory
Divinities of stone
Humanity of bone
Legions march in time
to glossy cracked clocks.
Black Boots step to the metronome.
Before them dark skies become…
Into it they rise the pinnacle of infinites
to the bloody rim of Tyranny.
Roses, rage…
The blossoms bleed a sea of crimson,
roses rare and thorns deep
hands of humanity bound, keep.
To the rhythm of the metronome
Feel the rush of Methodrone.
Violence, the iron forge blaze…
god in gears and wires
black onyx eyes stare.
A field of roses rage to the right
A flight of Ravens reflect in the sight
into the burning night
stars illuminate.
Distance is the shallows depths,
as angry angels feast
As Graves gives up their ghosts
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