Sleep - Oh my dear friend why do you hide
midst the turbulent brooding that twist
and tumble within my fatigued mind?.
Come, let slumber kiss my heavy eyes,
whilst Luna roves the scene Nox has spread,
waken for me Somnus from his bed
to still thoughts and words erratic chase,
till Morpheus dreams then takes their place:
thence to grant me slumbers precious peace,
Come - settle my mind: Please - let me sleep.

3.30AM ©Michael C Crowder @scorsby
15th February 2021

The gods let this baby be born
As a thing they could reclaim
One day with cruel delay
Boils from black plague desecrated her skin
Right before her second birthday
A lesson on how a life can be stolen
Shortly after it begins
Or how we're without hope to the whims
Of the bored gods before us

To save the last of his kin
The father implored the science
Of the village sage and physicians
He was turned down at every door
Their medicine was not meant
To save the poor nor destitute
  
Resolute in his faith
there were good gods who gave grace
Unto children without sin
He next beseeched healing power
from varied institutions of the miracle men
Preyed over by priests, rabbis, and sheikhs
He sacrificed and spent
every cent he had saved
And their churches took his tithes
But did not take her pain away

Grief striken, defeated, with no recourse
Liquid sedated in a pub,he feels remorse
" our child will join you soon,
my dearest departed wife"
a pubhand overhears him saying,
"you can still save your daughter's life!"

"listen as I entail
The hidden trail you must trek
before the antelucan hour strikes
Her magiks are only ripe
in the dead of the night
Nestled within that loury forest
Her cabin obscured from mortal sight
Resides an occultist of such cunning:
A bog witch named Blight"

The pubhand helped him to more mead for free
Unprompted he then proceeds to lead
The father through that place he now seeks
-claiming his shift had come to an end
As they drew closer to the cabin
Something happened most curious and queer
The pubhand turned into a black cat,
Scurried off into the brush- to dissappear

Influenced by fermented spirits in his blood
He pays heed to their whisper
-Her cabin door is ajar
And they beckon he enter

Now in Blight's place of power with his offspring.

"oh hapless father when you sing,
How the gods do smile
You worshipped the very ones
who wish to **** your only child
they're vile and malcontent
All they know are delinquent tendencies
They'll torture her spirit for sport,
When she dies you see
But by my incantation
That needn't come be"

"drain the blood of a bat
with deviant intent
Recant the name of your gods;
You now resent  
The blood will brew all the while
-in my elixir
When the little girl drinks:
it will fix her
It will turn her pale white
You will fear she has perished
She will stalk this earth
Forever parched with ravenous thirst
And a stark aversion to sunlight
NOW YOU MUST CHOOSE:
A dead child!
...or a creature of the night?"

The father did as directed
He did not second guess
Unaware of the sorceresses subtle gesticulations
-Were creating a hex
He's blind to machinations set in motion long ago
The wiccan pours her will into a binding circle
As the child drinks the concoction slow

His daughter's vitality returns
The plague is receding
Fangs sprang forth
as she bites into her father's neck
Blood trickles down in specks
The girl keeps feeding
And feeding

all gods once assembled to fight Blight
The powerful mad goddess would direct
her sadistic debauchery at their human subjects
-human praise appealed to the god's vanity-
Her godhood sealed by the Parthenon
in a prison comprised of flesh
Divinity bound;
betrayed by other gods
There were too many for her to resist
A former god trapped in mortal form
Blight's punishment was to simply exist

For 300 years Blight had waited for a night like this
An ancient curse she could wield
As revenge for imprisonment
Finally obtaining the last two ingredients:
A child that was pure
And a father's consent

A direct strike of lightning sets Blight's cabin ablaze  
still in her binding circle, she's indifferent
And unphased
From threats of fearful deities who see
She's about to set her nocturnal creations free
Undeterred by their show of force
she releases her two vamps
with a flick of her wrist and no remorse

Iightning strikes within an inch of Blight
She leers at the heavens
Much defiance and mirth
In the distance a village screams
As her fiends burn it down to the dirt

The Parthenon replies:
Bellowing cumulonimbus clouds
decries her decision
Such chaos;
now her scheming REALLY has their attention
The.Ones.Who.Watch. Above

See all.

Throughout panoptic thrones they peer
pained fury for this village culling:
Blight jeers
Sanctimonius thunderstorm brings fervent rain
Their vain,pious tears-
The skies can not contain

The gods cry.

"Oh, how i wonder what will worship gods then,
When humanity dies?"

Luminous surges of lightning bolts strike
Tries to smite this emboldened bog witch
...Yet, in spite of their wish,
she somehow stays unhurt...

Blight smirks.

If we go back to the beginning,
we shall find
that ignorance
and fear
created the gods;
that fancy, enthusiasm,
or deceit
adorned them;
that weakness worships them;
that credulity preserves them
and that custom, respect and tyranny support them
in order to make
the blindness
of men
serve their own interests.
If the ignorance of nature
gave birth to gods,
the knowledge
of nature
is calculated
to destroy them.

- Baron D’Holbach

i have been having many dreams lately
the good, the bad, and the *****
lace curtains breezing at the touch of morning air
your face bare, the curly maze of your hair
undoubtedly an invitation for a quiet admiration

your little nose with its bridge slim and high
sits perfectly on your well-sculpted face
if poor apollo sees you,
this, i am sure the world would ignite
sparks seeping into your mortal veins
demeter, she would try to suffocate you
with wild flowers growing inside your lungs
aphrodite shall drown in her very own ichor
and replace poseidon’s kingdom with eternal tears
for she knows she could never overcome your beauty
artemis would fall out of the sky
with poison arrows piercing through her heart

the way your teal dress kisses
every curse of your body reminds me
of the time you angered hera because
zeus could only look at you and nothing else
there was a baleful thunderstorm coming
yet there you slept, safely and soundly
my arms shielding you in case she would come
but hera never dared, threatened by your power
to move the sea if you wish for land
to shatter the earth for fun if you desire
the hearts of olympus you have captured
within your tiny palms and i question:
am i worthy of such greatness?
an empress from a foreign land who speaks
with every word of innocence and affection

It makes me sad how angry I am
it's so bad I'm god ******
the slaughter of God's lamb
by the knife in God's hand
hatred's supply and demand
is all I understand
when sexuality creates insanity
in this putrid life handed to me
with God not answering
my prayers for Him to take my eyes
instead He just took my hands
so now I can't stop staring at guys
who don't think I'm a man
and I can't fight back with no arms
so I must stand there and take harm
from people in God's garb
and wire that is barbed.

If being without love makes one numb
how come I feel every time I'm stung?
Especially now that swords are guns
and this life's rewards are none
just a scoreless run
to a finish line before a cliff
I pray there is something to lift
me away from my earthen crypt
but I've found only rage
and in that my sorrow
banging in my cage
but wanting to see tomorrow
looking for anything to follow
I can't take pills hard to swallow
so I float like the thirteenth Apollo.

Wallowing in an empty room
pouring alcohol in the wound
feeling doomed like I'll die soon
in my lonely loft
developing a covid cough
from those who scorn and scoff
and won't *******
telling me to look to God
when that's how my arms were sawed
into illegal shotguns
living this life is not fun
so everyone around me got shot some
which is just part of God's **** poor potluck
my hands must be in there somewhere
so I just keep crawling upstairs
even though it's unfair
my hands must be stolen back
from a god dressed in black
who took my palms but let me see
without knowing how to be
I just bite the hands that bleed
until I'm too full to breathe
and watch God laughing casually.

there is no need for the sky
for the constellations are painted
individually, ever so gently
on your honey dripping skin
i look into your eyes and see
star dust scattered across
the never-ending nova

your smile could end a cursed storm
while your kiss could cause a wildfire
and your lips alone could melt
the words in my deafening mind
you shine brighter than artemis
you bring the tides, take them away
you grant the ocean life, and
if you please, grant sailors their fate

your voice, like a ghost, follows
i cannot escape it: in the nights that
i dream i hear it calling to me
when i am awake, it is haunting me
deep like a valley, coarse like the rocky shore,
low like a ripe Apple hanging from the Tree,
warm and dark and awakening like coffee,
sinful like i am

your hands move along the curves
of my body, sparks seeping into my veins
to my spine you whisper, ‘comply’
and i, an empress of my own, comply
you come from a foreign land yet
your commands do so much to me
i do not ever have to think
to move with your hands on our silky palace