Stay Signed In
Do you want to access your site more quickly on this computer? Check this box, and your username and password will be remembered for two weeks. Click logout to turn this off.
Stay Safe
Do not check this box if you are using a public computer. You don't want anyone seeing your personal info or messing with your site.
Thanks for visiting my web page.
Please visit Leona's Song, God and the Darkness,
Confessions of a Wraithe, Deathmouth and Random Pics.
Random Pics is my random poetry. Let me know what you
think in my guest book. I don't have much access to a
computer so, updating will be slow. Today is July 25, 05.
Thanks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
459 hits
-The Solitary is sensed as darkest
most sordid menace...
Nothing is forgotten.
The pools of silence are
ancient and languid,
mirroring worlds and
universes of ecstacy, idea
Laughter echoes, softly,
from torn skies
All humanity could be wiped out in a single moment ("doomsday rock", nuclear holocaust, biological or environmental epidemic, etc.) and "God" wouldn't bat an eyelash or wrinkle a nose hair of sentiment or feeling of pacification of any kind about it. Alpha and Omega. Ceaseless-w/out hesitation or doubt.
That is Power and Beauty.
Forever.
"You cannot petition the Lord w/prayer."-J. Morrison
Miracles are Santa Claus and finding your car keys after days & weeks of searching, high and low, inside & out. The Big Bang theory is the most realistic theory we have about how the universe was born. From that moment of intense creation, all things go. The lion hesitates not at all when taking prey. We, as humans, view this as savage and brutal. Civilization is a cop-out from our true primeval instinct. Not that I believe in anarch, but why should God come down from His luxuriance and glory to immerse Himself in human swine and corruption and destruction? God will not save the prey anymore than He would you in your most fatal moment. God must've realized about the early 19th century that His clutch on human consciousness & practicalities had dramatically lessened. Miracles are non-existent because they interfere w/the natural unfolding of life and energy. To lessen any perception of skepticism or cynicism, let us say that birth and first breath of life are the only living miracles left to us by our Maker. And even this is generous. God gave us one breath of life and by definition and design of Pure Power, miracles are alwasy an understepping of the Creator's true plan: Evolution for all throughout the universe. Like giving the child the answers to all the questions on the exam, he learns nothing.
-"The Poet makes himself into a seer through a long, prolonged derangement of the senses to attain the Unknown. He exhausts himself of every kind of love, of suffering, of madness; he searches himself; he exhausts every possible poison so that only essence remains. He undergoes unspeakable tortures that require complete faith and superhuman strength, rendering him the ultimate Invalid among men, the master Criminal, the first among the damned-and the Supreme Savant! For he arrives at the Unknown!"
-the Lettre du Voyant to
Paul Demeny, May 15, 1871
And the poet learns about commitment and truth
and contempt in the face of the beast. The duration
of Things resounds magnificently, jubilantly out of
the great void and oblivion of infinite splendor;
grandeur. Maturity, for you, is the responsibility of
reality and the sensed wisdom of necessity. The chaos
is precise in random symmetry. Patterned entropy.
Beauty is a young whore whose hair is long and silk
and covers us over like raiments of soft sun. Ah, gold
embrace of charity! Storms or Universes. Anarchy is
a fine thing (when you're just 16). Nothing matters,
when you're just 16. Tomorrow, I'll be a darker and
more wretched motherfucker. The pinnacles of soul
reach up into the farthest oblivions, barrens.
-Damnation-
Nothing genius. Or even very interesting.
I've got nothing. I'm nowhere and careening, wildly.
I'm inside and peering out. How can I get There?
How will I be? No fate for the dispossessed. Give up
your guns. Turn in your credentials. The gates are
locking down. Stand there, alone, gently. Hear the
good, cool rains of their ravenous mating. The feasts
& celebrations of their warm, silk writhing. And
glasses, full w/draught, clink collide spill, joyously
while women laugh, meanderingly, sexfully & children
play there, oblivious. Ah, no love for the subverted. Will
they remember me? Will I still care? You lose something
of your humanity w/the growing illumination of our
darkened estrangement. Being unwanted is a moral
asylum and freedom. At once, we detach from the
societal ideal of responsibility. We may no longer bother
w/Concern, empathy, but the waking earth remains and hours and conceptions and needs. Even in exile-
spiritual soulful mindful sensual. Yeah, it's no
delight. It's a strange thing. Indeed, a scornful
bizarre alarming thing...
knowing
you are something
the World
would not, at all,
forlorn
-Ruined-
-I'm going to hell,
he tells them offhandedly,
carelessly
and straggled off
toward the dying sun
and consuming seas
Alone is our obscenity
Dawn is our burden
Wrecked oblivion
Cruel in oblivion
Bein in jail is
a soulful atrophy,
we suffer no symmetry
and quintessence
just out of reach
abandoned
like a leach
-"Windows that used
to set us free
mocked our minds
w/what we'd see..."
Damnation
of the senses and passions
and prowess
Mindlessness is our stoke
wicked as a satyr
Soon, we must answer Beauty
(or Truth will give our Unborne)
-Predator God Beast-
The predator god beast catches swift scent of stalking.
Stealth guides the deadly assault upon the witless prey. An
historical evolution has fine tuned & harnessed this killer's
predatory faculties, functionaries and endowments to keenest
efficiency; proficiencies. Environment that becomes mere utility inside this lethal arena. Bears that wait at riot waters of wild rivers of wildernesses while vast salmon are gourmet banquet and plentiful feast. No manacle is w/out its rendering or forlorn. This is instrumental. Vultures that scour the badlands and ravage ominous on fresh carcasses of sick cattle or diseased unfortunates in deserts of mindless devouring, consuming; indiscriminate and morose. Hawks, eagles, owls scoping the dead solemn night in swooping, diving, wretched miserable ensnaring. Talons crushing victim rodents, morbidly tearing, utterly, small game. Hyena's are a sneaking vicious horde. Jackyls. Dogs down under. The serpent assassin killer is satiated on meat and blood and blind death, which is its only drama and lone destiny. Endlessly.
Strategically, suddenly, the monster creature fiend bounds merciless upon its hapless victim prey. Nature's great dark unceaseable beauty and macabre precision in sickening symmetry. Savage in single strokes. Rhythms of hideousness, unforsakeable. The quintessence of the thing is its bestial procreation and successions. Creation is its only despair. Indulgently.
It is not the ideal nor ideology of such that inspires our interest, concern. It is the causal essence of as such in being; spinning; careening; streaking. The wasp is relentless in its battles, hunts and prowess. Instinct is Life & desperate preservation of the moment to another. For want of privilege. It is complete appropriation and exultant grandeur. Suffered idea people fate. Design. Define. Reveal. Pursue, remorselessly.
-Ode to a Dragonfly-
Dragonfly hovers & wavers
and teases
His wings crash
through the air
smashing silence w/swift
strong insect sway
A mosquito finds its death
in the terrible jaws
of its devouring
and eaten,
ends its wrought horror
Better to be a dragonfly
and gain the respect of beasts, gods
and dance on winds
and scream
and fly
We exist in the bowels of accepted morality. Ennui is the hell of freedom. We are now arrived to allow and pursue our perceptions and consciousnesses into the purely sensual and wicked. Reality is an asylum where we occupy and manipulate the territories, agents and instruments of all that is base and primal. Experience is and always has been our only true satiation and metaphysical release. God is borne of deadly savage accuracies. Evolution is a festering boil on the Spirit of Humanity.
-Fallen-
Delight in the senses
bestial and depraved
wretched as a jackyl
or vulture
gnawing ripping tearing
limbs, torsos, bone
and flesh of fresh death
(the desert is dead
and murderous)
-"Ah, wilderness", he guffaws
smugly,
swallowing his final swig of bourbon
-"May flights of devils
wing you to your
rest."
Demons lie
in all unholiness
I want to be unclean
like a pestilence.
-"O dark goddess of fuckery!"
How did we get this way
w/all else?
(Back there, over our shoulder...)
Intoxication is a wanton
whorey corpse; beautiful & cold
The cherub told me so...
-The Nest-
Morning arrives
in Her cool sway
Lovingly, she scours
dreams & sleep away
powered by
