Of Glue & Sweetblood Wine - Part Three

Soft Sweet Love Divine

Forever be mine, soft sweet love divine,
I can still taste your lips, like red blood red wine,
Close my eyes, I can smell your soft sweet soft hair,
Envision your face, so fair love so fair.

Though I am not with you, away far away,
You are here in my heart, where you will always stay,
And no thief can steal that, my treasure – pure gold,
Moments so precious, to have and to hold.

Love when you feel hollow, all cold and alone,
The whole world’s a wasteland, and each heart is stone,
Have faith and believe, that I am with you,
Just close those eyes, and your dream shall come true.

For my soul is all yours, and your soul is mine,
Now and forever, soft sweet love divine.










Song of the New Reich

Mother, lover, brother, daughter,
Come, join us, dancing in the sun,
Earth and air and fire and water,
A taste of all for everyone.

Free yourself; take a stranger’s hand,
Step inside the circle of peace,
Become a part of this great band,
Sing with joy – know sweet release.

Beside you might be friend or foe,
That is past; we are equal, here,
As round and round and round we go,
Forget your hatred, have no fear.

It does not matter what you were,
Old deeds are done, we look ahead,
For what is yet to come, we care,
With us, all you have been is dead.

Our numbers grow each night and day,
Upon the world, a time for change,
Love’s power is coming into play,
No longer shall we hate the strange.



We learned the truth from up on high,
The Shining Ones showed us their light,
We saw their craft, there, in the sky,
It truly was a wondrous sight.

They gave us lore from distant stars,
And shared their secrets out of space,
Revealing to us ageless powers,
Then they returned to their own place.

But were they Angels?  Were they Gods?
Those Entities who brought us truth?
You answer me with smiles and nods,
For you have also seen the proof.

The pyramids have changed their shape,
The Sphinx awoke to walk in sand,
All we can do  is stare and gape,
At miracles in every land.

Some say this is the end of all,
But we know that it’s just the start,
A time to break down every wall –
Begin with those around your heart.





In sprawling town and golden field,
We come together, in the dance,
Our numbers grow as more folk yield,
To wondrous hope; they take the chance.

There’s just one rule for those who join,
(A little thing, of small import),
We do not ask for blood, or coin,
But you must give us your support.

For some decide to dance alone,
They choose to walk another path,
And with them, we must pick a bone,
Ere they return to us with wrath.

For when those others roam and stray,
They meet with more, who share their views,
And curse our names, to darkness pray,
We call these rebels, ‘Wandering Jews.’

These people, they have but one dream –
To see our circle torn apart,
And for this cause they plot and scheme,
Our swift destruction, they do chart.





But we are seeking peace, not war,
And we are loath to take a life,
Yet if a few folk’s blood should pour,
Is that not best, to counter strife?

Such loyalty is all we need,
And what we do, we do for good;
Like gardeners, we merely weed,
Destroying evil’s wicked brood.

So join the circle, feel the love,
And know that what we do is right,
Our cause is sanctioned from above;
Though seeking peace, we have to fight.

But when, at last, our work is done,
And we have cancelled every Jew,
Through every heart true love will run,
(Of other foes, I’ll speak with you).










Stormhorses

Galloping…galloping…galloping on,
Through dark depths of ocean, leading the storm,
Pounding out thunder – their hooves and their hearts,
They surge upwards, skywards; the great waters part.

Thundering…thundering…thundering on,
Black clouds race behind them, the Moon’s light has gone,
They shine, like their Mistress; so bright and cold,
The shoreline is close, now – the line cannot hold.

Echoing…echoing…echoing on,
The wind wails the words of their sad, old, old song –
How the fair Moon abandoned her husband, the Sun,
For she loved the Sea, yes, he was her One.

Their children – Stormhorses, who yearn for the land –
Cursed by the Sun; their dreams dash on sand.










Sunset

Standing at dusk on a warm summer’s eve,
His heart and the skies are as one, all in flame,
When he says, ‘I would die for you,’
Those words are true,
For it makes him smile,
To watch you sleep,
And each day, when he wakes,
His eyes grace your face.



















Tainted

Come, look at what you’ve done,
Admire this broken handiwork,
The rip and twist of your sick mind.
And I become,
As you desire,
Yes, tainted.
Twisted by your dream,
Warped by your heart’s wish.

Oh, well, I must be true,
Nothing’s holy any more,
My World, dear Eve, is back to clay.
And you become,
As I desire,
Yes, tainted.
Twisted by my dream,
Hush, now, it’s your turn.

Every whenever,
And don’t ask us why,
We’re eating each other,
Feeding our fire.
The higher those flames,
The darker that light.



So, look at what we’ve done,
Smile at the sun,
Shine like a scar.
And we become,
As we desire,
Yes, tainted.
Twisted by our dreams,
Torn by our dark love.

My love, I love,
Your pain.
Tainted.

















TALES 7 X 3

One by One:
THE HUNT OF HER(R) WOLF

She slips through the crowd like a wistful sigh,
A little behind, I stalk, feather-soft,
She stalls by some stall, then I scent her blood,
So fresh, I am drawn by Her heart’s wet song,
She moves, Her basket held dear as Her life,
Inside – three apples, no rose is so red.

Round cheese and white wine; new loaf, doughy-soft,
I shiver, listen; hear Her languid blood,
And Her voice, Her words, She sings a sweet song,
Of small birds, of bees, of seeds, budding life,
Then, I nip forward; a flash of bright red,
Farewell, a whisper, Her cloak swirls a sigh.

I rush to catch Her, proud heart pumping blood,
Just follow after, my ears chasing song,
Leave the sweet scents of this town full of life,
Into the wild wood, She walks on in red,
To Her, Oak’s warning is but the wind’s sigh,
Swiftly now, loping, my bare feet pad soft.



My sense is aroused, filled, with deep forest-song,
Soon, standing panting where I devour life,
My cold home, my lair, the walls are all red,
Take off robes, strip bare, cloth on skin a sigh,
Still hear Her singing, though far-off and soft,
Bewitched and entranced, the spell of Her blood.

Lope to the white house; steal old Ancient’s life,
Quick brutal – throttled; I spill nothing red,
All done, last sour breath a low drawn-out sigh,
her old long-worn flesh is warm still and soft,
Skin the meat outside, dark Earth drinks thin blood,
Cloaked in my disguise, I wait for Her song.

Soon, She comes, straight in, ‘Mine now, Liebling Red,
clothes into the fire,’ I hear myself sigh,
Then tear off my guise; bared, I am not soft,
She screams once, then moans; I is slicked with blood,
Deep in the taking I howl my great song,
Reaping and sowing; my gift – seeds of life.
 
She groans and I sigh; My spell chanted, soft,
The curse of strange blood; My weird weirdwolf song,
Bright Moon grant us life; My Love, Little Red.





One by Two:
Little Lost Virgin

Though not my truename, I am Little Red,
My kin call me thus, for my Mother’s blood,
When She slipped away, breath barely a sigh,
Like snow, silence fell, deep, sacredly soft,
Then, I came along, last word of Her song,
Such is my burden, the price of this life.

Kind, he was to me, we shared bonding blood,
Yet too oft I heard my poor papa sigh,
I was Her image, dark-tresséd, skin soft,
My voice an echo of Mother’s sweet song,
Thus, I chose exile, a fresh road in life,
I love you, papa, but you just see red.

Long, long days I walked, the wind’s mournful sigh,
Brought home my deep loss, I felt melted, soft,
Still, I kept going: my mission, my song,
A way to atone for taking Her life:
Care for Her mother; tend that rose so red,
Treat her as holy – a drop of Christ’s blood.






I came to the town, bought bread, baby-soft,
Then moved in a daze, lulled by market song,
Pulled by the current, the river of life,
More gifts to offer, three apples bright red,
Just then a presence, a chill in my blood,
Soft as a whisper, such need in that sigh.

So strong, I sensed this; a deep aching song,
It called to my soul, each note promised life,
My mind felt drunken, all colours were red,
Left that place quickening, flushing with blood,
Safe, in the forest, I breathed a long sigh,
My hot skin caressed, the wind’s kiss was soft.

This wood would be home; such rich vibrant life,
When I found the house, skies glowed sunset-red,
Pushed the door open; words quickened my blood,
I could but obey, each garment a sigh,
His scent was musky, his pelt coarse and soft,
To Fate I resigned; to his raw hot song.

My name is still Red – prey’s wet pumping blood,
The past but a sigh – poor weak human soft,
My womb filled with song – wild fierce hungry life.





One by Three:
Cruel Blind Destiny

Poor Rose abandoned, her dry lonesome song,
All-but-forgotten, that long ago life,
Bright colours she knew, calm blue, eager red,
Each moment fed bliss to her youthful blood,
Now, joy is missing, she can only sigh,
Each day a torment, her heart beating soft.

Though her surroundings pulse with blooming life,
She feels dejected, Rose-no-longer-red,
With vision near gone, weak as ancient blood,
Dulled senses and now she can barely sigh,
Once, she was graceful, her skin downy soft,
He sought her favours; she knew passion’s song.

Like her Granddaughter, fair sweet Little Red,
With blind innocence and hot secret blood,
Her lover was drawn – moth, flame, lustful sigh,
To welcoming limbs and eyes dewy soft,
Those were her moments of slow haunting song,
Pure true and precious; to hold throughout life.






Her sole protection had been moontime blood,
He, the Woodcutter, with His gentle sigh,
Touched something in her – her soul, hidden, soft,
She wanted His babe, its small wailing-song,
Her trap was subtle – full womb, nascent life,
Wed in the forest: white gown, roses red.

All now reflection, a long mournful sigh,
Lost her direction, she moans, broken, soft,
The cruel callous Gods, a bird’s trilling song,
The great crashing oak took her Husband’s life,
Sky-blue eyes, laughter, fine hair autumn-red,
Dead leaves were scattered with His vital blood.

Deep thought fragmented – some sound, subtle, soft,
She is enchanted by tender sweet song,
Hands are upon her, they crush fragile life,
The cool blackness comes, Rose drifts, floating, red,
Gone are the tortures of old turgid blood,
One last weak heartbeat – a tired, grateful sigh.

Time for a new song, as Rose casts off life,
Her cloak, worn and red, slips from her like blood,
No need now to sigh; His warm hands are soft.





Two by One:
Reason of the Witch

I was not welcome, no invite; not fair
But came regardless, appearing on time,
My weak detractors could not meet my eyes,
Fawning and preening, their garb gold and blue,
Round Her they gathered, each bearing a spell,
Faerie Godmothers; three ladies of Dream.

First was the eldest, slow, taking sweet time,
Proud, tall aurora; bewitching green eyes,
Like dawn’s radiance, her silk dress pale blue,
‘Princess, have beauty,’ the crux of her spell,
In Her fine cradle, the baby knew dream,
Tiny perfection, so fragile, so fair.

Next, came kind Flora, witch-hazel her eyes,
As her precursor, resplendent in blue,
‘Wisely discerning,’ the gifts of her spell,
Hearing their blessings, I dazed, in a dream,
Did they hide meaning – words spoken so fair?
Secret intention?  I needed more time.






Last came quiet Fauna, eyes guilelessly blue,
Gold dress alluring; beguiling its spell,
Her soft enchantment, ‘May thou find love’s dream.’
Wisdom, then Beauty – this last was not fair,
Left me with nothing, I dreaded my time,
Shattered, despairing, tears flooded my eyes.

Then I was inspired, I chanted my spell,
‘Gifts of contented perfection, not dream,
I say, verily, to thee, is this fair?
Something is lacking – these things should take time,
They leave naught, Princess, to widen thine eyes,
Struggles enlighten; joy’s essence is blue.

Life should be precious, not empty of dream,
Not spent forever delightful and fair,
Care and wariness shall teach thee of time –
Needles and pinpricks will shut fast thine eyes,
Then, all shall slumber – cold frozen and blue,
Only devotion can shatter this spell.’

I reckoned this fair – to balance Her time,
Rage blazed from their eyes – green, hazel and blue,
I spat out one Word – gone; just a bad dream.





Two by Two:
The Slumbering Bride

They kept secrets safe for such a long time,
Thirteen swift summers passed before these eyes,
Sunshine and starlight, skies purple and blue,
Storm clouds and rainbows – Nature’s  wondrous spell,
Each moment special, beyond any dream,
Life was so precious – all I saw was fair.

Now, I slumber here, no tears in these eyes,
Lonely in darkness, each heartbeat is blue,
Aware, but frozen, by Circe’s cruel spell,
Waking and sleeping, knowing only dream,
I suffer quietly – silent statue fair,
How much more waiting?  How much more lost time?

I can recall, still, those lost skies of blue,
Many long seasons trapped within this spell,
Flora and Fauna came calling one dream,
Dancing and singing; gracing Summer’s fair,
Their honest message – secret telling time,
Cursed as a baby; heart soul mind and eyes






Long hid knowledge, then, the gist of Her spell,
Fated to slumber, a servant of Dream,
Distraught and a-feared, I ranted, ‘Not fair!
Mothers of Faerie, always feeling time,
Just seeing blackness behind sleeping eyes,
When will I waken to bright skies of blue?’

Hope was granted me, to shine through dark dream,
Treasure to cherish; so golden and fair
Maybe, my hero will appear, some time,
Handsomely noble, flashing brilliant eyes,
Seeing my torments – lonely, frozen, blue,
Pluck out the needle and lift night’s black spell.

So long keeping this – one hope, true and fair,
Nearly ten seasons, the torture of time,
Nothing has altered, still-sleeping my eyes,
Slowly, the sadness became deeper blue,
Now, someone coming – listen – chanted spell,
I start to believe – please, please, end my dream.

Though he takes sweet time; I never see eyes,
I remain, still blue; burdened by this spell,
No escape from dream; this cannot be fair.





Two by Three:
The Lover’s Caress

Truth is elusive; put no faith in dream,
When I heard the tale of the Princess fair,
Enchanted to sleep throughout all of time,
My heart felt Her pain; tears welled in my eyes,
I swore a great oath, to Heavens so blue,
To save the Princess, to free Her from spell.

Years spent in wander, through lands strange and fair,
In search of my love for the longest time,
Fabulous things were witnessed by these eyes,
I crossed cold bleak wastes; scaled peaks high and blue,
A wise man I met knew about Her spell,
Of pricks and needles and life trapped in dream.

I sought endlessly, lost all track of time,
One day, a wide wood met my questing eyes,
Intertwined thorn-trees; beyond – I glimpsed blue,
The Keep of Deep Sleep; I stopped for a spell,
I drew my great sword, to realise my dream,
There lay the castle, its walls tall and fair.






Grimly determined, one hand hid my eyes,
That no thorn might pierce their deep sapphire blue,
Exhausted and hurt, tangled in the spell,
Though barbs tore my flesh, I held to my dream,
I kept Her in mind, my Princess so fair,
Sharp pain and bloodshed; it was a hard time.

And then, suddenly, I saw skies of blue,
Out of that dark wood and its vicious spell,
Tormented and weak, roaming, half-in-dream,
I found where She lay – my true love so fair,
And kissed Her soft lips, and waited some time,
Then, loved Her, gently, bright tears in my eyes.

My warm caresses did not melt the spell,
I stayed at Her side – a strange living dream,
Pregnancy filled Her; belly full and fair,
Nine months passed by me, then came the birth time,
Our son sought Her breast with tightly shut eyes,
But found Her finger – the pin in skin blue.

She woke from the dream; my Princess so fair,
We wed in no time; light shone in Her eyes,
Princess, Baby-blue; we lived in love’s spell.





Three by One:
The Wicked Temptress

Come to me, handsome, no room here for thought,
Silver and gold coins will buy you my laugh,
With my body, come, now, do as you wish,
Oldest profession, I am of that kind,
Many a noble have I tickled pink,
These men are all fools; their hearts in my hand.

But for me, lately, it is hard to laugh
Inside, I feel pain – caused by my own wish,
I need someone now, a man, fair and kind,
Constant companion who craves more than pink,
Lovingly gentle, his strong, tender hand,
It seems, day and night, I have but this thought.

Then came the moment – a chance for my wish,
Searching for pure love, a man truly kind,
My sweet invite penned; the page was soft pink,
Swiftly delivered, slipped to His right hand,
Waiting and praying, deep hopes swallowed thought,
Would He spit and sneer – or worse – snort and laugh?






No need for worries, the three Fates were kind,
‘Darling,’ He wrote me.  ‘Love must taste of pink,
I have hunted long; heart, mind, eye and hand,
Always discerning the things which I thought,
Nothing is holy, thus, the wicked laugh,
To find just one thing, true love, is my wish.’

My dress was scarlet, my glass shoes, rose-pink,
Sinder, that daft girl, was stung by my hand,
Slow, crude, stupid chit, her mind void of thought,
Clumsy, comical, how the men would laugh,
Coming to visit with each little wish,
She would not lay down, so, I was not kind.

I taught her lessons – the lash and my hand,
Nothing could change her, she knew naught of thought,
My dumb serving-maid, and that was a laugh,
‘Sinder, imbecile, this is what I wish,
Prepare my boudoir,’ I was almost kind,
She left with my dress, new shoes, cheeks bright pink.

‘All is well,’ I thought, reining in my laugh,
Prince, fulfil my wish, love me, treat me kind,’
I glowed, healthy, pink, my future at hand.





Three by Two:
The Ash-maiden’s Dance

There are no Faeries to grant fervent wish,
Or bearded old men, all-wise and so kind,
No winged Cherubs, buck-naked and pink,
No Sandman to come, pleasant dreams in hand,
My Knight on horseback was lost, so I thought,
But Fate is so strange, the Angels must laugh.

My poor, sick Mama, her face truly kind,
She struggled, abed, her health far from pink,
I laboured daily – for pennies in hand,
One morning, it came – sinful sly dark thought,
All for my Mama; how I missed her laugh,
That she be made well, my only true wish.

I met the Mistress, my rose virgin-pink,
She needed a maid and I was at hand,
‘O, wondrous Angel, my Saviour,’ I thought,
Now, musing of then, wiser, I can laugh,
She is a monster, Her bane is my wish,
I see through Her mask, this Lady so kind.






My life was measured by Her stinging hand,
I swallowed my rage, but slew Her in thought,
My darling sister, I hated Her laugh,
Tricked, cruelly, by Her; shocked at Her wish,
Sell my own virtue – could I be so kind?
I fled him – Her guest – all-aroused and pink.

From that night: revenge - my sole shameful thought,
I bided my time, salved pain with my laugh,
The moment arrived for granting my wish,
This patron of Hers, paying him in kind,
For he sought Diana – chaste maid, her skin pink,
I was his true dream; the moment, at hand.

Dressed in Her clothing, I could only laugh,
Played Mistress, for him, let him spend his wish,
He finished quickly, his murmurs were kind,
My sister came in, far from tickled pink,
She checked, then bolted; I let slip his hand,
Knew, I must catch Her – one purpose, one thought.

Well, I got my wish, and She was not kind,
Mixed bright red and pink with vicious, clawed hand,
‘I beat you,’ I thought, then started to laugh.





the Tears of My Rose

Once, I held the most exquisite Rose of heart-blood red,
Cradled, in these elegant-fingered hands,
She was: so, so, so soft and warm, fragile, small,
Her briary stem would never prick or scratch,
Not even when I squeezed her very tight.

Unable to resist destructive desire,
I slowly picked her petals, one-by-one:
Love, knot, love, knot, love,
Some I ate, some I burned,
Some I dropped onto the ground.

And all that was left,
Was a wizened stick,
A stub, a mess.

This, I pressed, into my heart,
With a glace smile,
To slowly decompose there evermore.

Now I lash myself with thorns,
In vain, for I cannot atone,
With mere blood alone,
For each tear of my exquisite blood-hearted Rose.



Time Is…

Trying, tested, time’s terrible torments,
Imprisonment’s insistent impotence,
Makes mundane mortals moment-millionaires,
Experiencing endless ennui.

Incarceration is indelible,
Simplest solution, staining sinful souls.

One’s only option: objectivity,
Numbly nullified, name-numbered nothing.

My mama-milk: mouldering memory,
Yearning yesterday’s yellowed youthful years.

So, slowly, shifty seasons slyly slip,
Inexorably inching, instants itch,
Desensitised detainee’s destiny?
Eventually, enslavement ends: escape.









Treasure

I’m a man and a rock, I’m as strong as forged steel,
But none of those things can dictate how I feel,
When I twist in my sheets and my head’s thick as glue,
I can get through the nightmares by dreaming of you.

I’m a rogue and a sinner, some would say, a lost cause,
But I can’t travel backwards to alter what was,
I have danced with addiction and madness and pain,
Only one thing I know: that our love’s not in vain.

I’m a fool and a wise man, contradicting my self,
But none of it matters, possessions and wealth,
For I’m gifted with riches beyond coins of gold,
Living love, you’re my treasure, to cherish and hold.

I’m just me, often weak and afflicted with strife,
But I’m sure, all I need, is your love in my life.










True Heart’s Desire

My true heart’s desire, this is but a rhyme,
To let you know how I miss you all the time,
With you, I have no use or need of guile:
I know I will be here for quite a while.

True heart’s desire, I’m a man, I’ll be strong,
I’ll manage through dark days and nights way too long,
Only the thought of your love keeps me sane,
Knowing that you are there soothes the deep pain.

Fair-weather friends have gone, like melting snow,
They never cared about me, this I now know,
So I thank God above for what I’ve got,
You who won’t walk away, no matter what.

It’s true what people say.  Love knows no bound,
While others think I am mad, my mind is sound,
You do not judge me, I know this is true,
I would be lost, heart’s desire, without you.

Thank you, true heart’s desire, for being there,
Showing me how very much that you care,
Less you, a long lost soul I would be still,
I love you, true heart’s desire, always will.



21ST Century Fool’s Alchemy

Sigmund, you twisted Victorian fuck,
Just because Daddy was too hard on you,
We’ve all been left with our heads full of muck,
Guilty, confused – but Greek myths are not true.

What drew you down to examine the murk?
Much more in common with Mesmer’s sick tricks,
Even your pupils rebelled at your work,
Mindless to tear down foundations and bricks.

Feed our own children with mind-bending drugs,
That’s why they’re addicts, come adolescence,
Vast corporations think we are all mugs,
Side-effects just prolong convalescence.

Your craft’s purveyors need treatment themselves,
Our generation’s brave new religion,
Each pigeon-holed mind stuck, high, on the shelves,
Wild epidemic – social contagion.

Therapists will not cure their golden goose,
Doctors prescribe, rubbing soft hands with glee,
Dependency leads to more frequent use,
Pump up the dosage to set your mind free.



Lonely?  Stay home-bound.  Meet no one.  Take pills.
Sad?  This new tablet will soon see you smile,
Look, just like sweeties – it gives my heart chills,
Ethics sold quickly; this practice is vile.

Each new statistic shows we are all mad,
Balanced emotions deemed foolish as mime,
Old ways work better, though, when things go bad,
Love and compassion; true healing takes time.

I see the symptoms, and get more annoyed,
Do I need treatment?  Am I paranoid?

















Walking in the Winter Woods

Awakened by birdsong at crackling dawn,
Wandered out, naked, to stand on the lawn,
Stretched for the sky with a groan and a yawn.
And he thought, for a beat,
of the one who had gone.
Yes, he wept, at that moment,
for the one who was gone.

But,
she can’t hear his cries, she can’t see his tears,
she wears no disguise, she never shared fears,
she showed perfect skies, she gave many years.

Now, he’s walking, all alone, in winter woods,
Though it’s spring, all day,
He’s walking in the winter woods.











Way Home

Close my eyes, I see us lying,
On some sandy beach, somewhere,
Clear blue sky and sun is shining,
Golden on our skin,
Yeah, we could almost be there.

In my mind, we climb a mountain,
Get high, looking down below,
All around, there is no doubtin’,
Heaven must be close:
Is that an Angel’s halo?

I see us, our world is silent,
Trees, a forest, all around,
Can you hear?  In our green island,
Noisy seas are gone,
Now, we are hidden from sound.

I awake, the dream is ending,
In my prison’s cell, alone,
You are far, but, love, I’m sending,
Echoes of this song
So, hold them, till I come home.




It won’t be so long,
Darling, on my way home,
Back where I belong,
My love, here I come.

























Wild Weather

A memory of waves crashing upon the shore,
A glimpse of this nocturne, this midwinter storm,
A vision of lightning and thunderous sound,
These are the pictures I have, in my mind.

The howl of the wind, as it sunders the clouds,
The rush of white horses that ride on the tide,
The flashing of lightning igniting the skies,
This is the passion I have, here, inside.

Softness of sunlight come after the storm,
Peace of the sea lying quiet in the dawn,
Calm of the breeze that arrives with the light,
Those are the feelings I have, in the night.

Storm wind and calmness, sunshine and thunder,
Come from you, Goddess, you fill me with wonder.










You are all That (and more, besides)
                   
You are my Earth, my Moon, my stars,
My Venus, Jupiter and Mars,
You are my World, all it may hold,
My shining silver, gleaming gold.

You are my blue skies, up above,
My sultry sunsets that I love,
You are the breeze to cool my face,
My midnight comet, blazing grace.

You are my elemental flame,
My wild heart none can ever tame,
You are my perfect blooming rose,
My mystery no other knows.

You are those things I hold most dear,
The notes of every song I hear,
My love, my lily of the vale,
My Unicorn, my Holy Grail.

So, when my days are packed with pain,
And all I know is lonely rain,
When life is bitter, dark and vile,
I dream of you, I hope, I smile.



caveat

i am the abandoned freak, lord, i suffer alone



tonight i’m high on glue and sweetblood wine
the early morning sicknesses have passed away
antimaterialisations rediscover themselves
to be forgotten

when i was very small i dreamt of me
but now i’m grown to feel awake and weak
disincriminations master me
i have forgotten

and sometimes yes sometimes
i almost forget to remember
to forget

emptor