darkness of the mind
fire in the heart
my desire
is
my destruction

within the forests of my breasted figure
lies a dormant snake
sprouting fear in my dreams
leaving me empty
aside from memories in my wake
all of the blue I once knew
suddenly bursting into flame

it's time to face what I create
a pair of emerald eyes
unblinking-unthinking
another of the deepest mud
unrevealing
no longer feeling
the last
most terrifying & candied eyes
butterscotch & bloodshot
looking upward to the crescent in the sky
seeing new colors
saying
goodbyes

six eyes
on three heads
sprouting from a body
made of
snow
curling crystals
jagged and etched
along the slender creatures form
hunger tries to consume
this beast
"what is love,"
the fire asks,
"save for a wet & bloodied feast?"

the snake uncurls
as if ready to latch on to it's prey
then soon after
bolts away

the heartbeat of fire:
much too loud in it's calmness
to be frightened by
hunting snow
with intentions to consume
such a succulent meat
will the snake evaporate in the heat of desire
or
will the fire be smoking
in it's failure
to catch the slithering beast?

frightened with a calmness
death is in the air
in the stare
of all
six
sick
& wicked eyes

the fire muses
in it's confusion
of what's right or wrong
the hunt is no longer a game
life and death
no longer simply names
realities of fortune
and lacking
just the same
the snow and the ice
too weak to face this flame

predictions of
when the snake melts down
to nothing but water and bones
she'll gather the crusted crystals of desire
she so often used to admire
used to hold
in a heart of stone

a different destiny to behold
if the snake
were to win
the burnt paper of her skin
would
go grey in the wind
no more
flames
no more
spark
heart grown
dark
and weary

what torture could send the snakes tongue
down her throat and lick the flame
into an outrage of misplaced
words
that held nothing save for demands
in those hands
the blood had stained
how much of how little could last
no more of the new
in the end
what is left is
all that has passed

snake and flame
forever
in cycle
recycling their pain
until
neither remain

You are not your Body,
but your Body is your Temple;
and your Temple is the only Altar
at which I'm compelled to worship.

The Goddess I know is present
The Goddess I know and love
The Goddess known to you as "I"
dwells within that earthly Temple
thus is thy Temple my Altar

I want to darken the room;
to turn off the lights
draw the curtains
and then to light candles
and disrobe our Temples
and lay upon a bed of satin
and to begin to carefully trace
the subtle curves, circles, arcs and lines of your Temple
with the lips, tongue, teeth and fingertips of mine
and to forget the sense of Time
we both know so well by now;

I want the Music of the harmonies of our Temples
to drown out the music of the turntable

I want the rhythm of our Love
to pulse so deep into the Night
that it comes back out the other side

I want the melodies we accidentally sing
to make the Moon and Stars blush with envy

I want to worship your Temple
in all the ways that we'd see fit;

I want us to moan in blissful, belligerent unison,
our eyes meeting with such electricity
that the spark creates ephemeral dim light
just before the magnetism pulls us together
and we kiss a kiss to end all kisses
just before we kiss a kiss to begin it all again.

I want this holy communion
under naked moonlight of Love
and I want to hold your Temple
until all Temples cease to be.

Time has no meaning
when we're apart.
Time has yet less meaning
when we're together.

I love you and your magnificent Temple,
my one and only Earthly Goddess,
and I can wish for nothing more
than to be able
to make you unable
to doubt it,
once more.

It's very difficult to do simple well:

Overthinking
is a folly of the Human condition
just as Underthinking
is a folly of these, our modern times.

We must remember
and return to the ways of
the Natural virtues:
Balance, Respect, Harmony, and Elegance.

Wu wei.

Let it be,
it is fine;
it is we
who need to be
pliant and yielding
all the while retaining
our own individual integrity.

Only then can we, as Humans,
reach our full potential:
It is within our ability
to become Gods. Titans.
Transcendents,
Enlightened Ones;
as Humanity,
the Enlightened.

Good Morning,
Global Consciousness.
So happy to see you've survived the unnaturally long Night.
I hope we remember our dreams;
we sure could use some right about now.

Satan is a metaphor
for destructive manifestations
of cosmic Energies;
allowing Potential
to go horribly awry;
and, in that sense,
is very much real.

Lucifer is a metaphor
for a seeker and preacher
of deeper understanding;
informed dissent,
liberation via mass enlightenment;
and, in that sense,
is truly a Saint.

I find it rather funny,
the power Names hold
while it's also rather funny
how hollow Words really are,
that is, until someone
reads, listens, thinks, or speaks
using Language as we know it;

then the ancient Spells
come wholly into a Life
entirely unto their own:

It is within the Power of such Spells
to incite and to quell
grief, joy, confusion, insight
inoculation, ignorance,
inurement, indoctrination,
harmony, discord,
love, hate, disdain, respect
peace and war;

God as well as the Devil
lie dormant within our Actions and Words.