I was searching for you, my blood bound love. I have waited for your return for what feels like centuries. My endless love for you has spanned continents in my quest to find you once more. I have waded through God’s great floods and skirted His hell fires, and continued to search for you still. I have fought through the evil wars of men to no victory and battled the darkest fears of my heart: that I should die and you would never again be mine. Yet, my need to love you has prevailed. It could not be buried in the sands of time or kept locked away in this dusty tomb. This feeble body and tired mind would not possess the will to survive if not for my immortal need for you, my love, the everlasting love that was bound to my eternal soul with the first taste of your blood fire. I am so very grateful to have found you once more, for my thirst for you, as the purest red love beats in my cold heart, could never die.
Lady of Ravenhill
Take your time
getting home tonight.
For me, be in no hurry.
My love's the kind
that waits for you.
If you rush, I'll have to worry.
The light just
by the window's on.
The door is unlocked, too.
I'm in our bed,
now go ahead.
I'll wait here for you.
A Magnetic Dream Conceived Of Timeless Perfections,
With Telekinetic Screams & Flawless Imperfections,
Programmed To Transmits Her Prismatic Light,
Inflamed, She Emits An Axiomatic Delight,
Her Lilac Senses Filled With An Eternal Slumber,
With Insomniac Pretenses Sobbing Into A Nocturnal November,
With An Ensnared Avidity & Reunited Blues,
Flared With Frames Of Her Reignited Hues,
Tattered As She Respires Into An Abysmal Disguise,
Her Motionless Shadows Reprise Into A Dismal Surprise,
The curse of eternal life
Would be, watching
Every one you love, die
...and she felt like
Her bones were buried
In her body
She had eaten eons,
Watched the ends
Of millions of clocks’ lifetimes
Snorted the rust of their
Idle hands, dead still
In the blank stare
Of their concentric silence
She wanted to cease
This void existence,
For boredom was
Her ultimate torture
What art in Heaven is unknown to the heathen?
Lest the scriptures write of adolescent teens.
For the scriptures build an ark and the arc
From which we must all be reborn in the barque.
With the strength of the carpenter’s lieutenants
The gallows outlast ten thousand tenants.
The faith in ones own wit is the noose indeed
As is the church’s wit when their sovereignty be decreed.
Is not this parchment made of sheepskins?
Like the fine carved furniture of the followers of Louie Quinze.
But of these carvings was once a beautiful tree.
Like the lamb – it was forced to its knee.
There a man placed upon their remains
Words and pictures of the self it proclaims.
But to God they are still a tree and a lamb
No need for the words or pictures he found.
Life is an eternal attempt.
Life is the name of putting efforts,
Efforts to pull the strings together.
Life is the name of a happy being,
Being content with what we have.
Life is the name of dissatisfaction,
Satisfied I'll face a lack of fervour.
Life is the name of a social liability,
Spend time & learn how to behave.
Life is the name of finding corners,
Corners of happiness in the world.
Life is the name of achieving love,
A lover other than parents I mean.
Life is the name of the procreation,
Practice until you finally procreate.
The one love is not ready to accept,
Neither me nor my love for herself.
Still I dream of going to her house,
There I'll attempt to persuade her.
Though she will probably insult me,
But for love this is an eternal attempt.