When dogs howl at night
Hecate is around
What falls on the ground "the Gentry" takes.
Do not fonder and scavenge on unknown terrain
How many times has it been told
That the man who finds hidden gold
Is struck a fatal blow by fate
There is no reprieve from what is unseen.
"The Seely (Blessed) Court" is not to be messed with even in dreams
If you dig deep between the rocks
Take the time to contemplate the other plane
I am not referring to when one meditates
Only a learned guru from the East can teach that way
Forget about looking at the sky for signs
For angels are made of fire
If you're still with me do not think.
Do not elevate "The Seely (Blessed) court"
Before your name
A being of fire will be unleashed to take heed
Of your countenance
He will laugh at you like he did me
From the Earth's core
To the furnaces once described by John Bosco within Hades
The Salamander shall appear
These beings cause the Sun's ripples to dance
Calling upon God will bring no peace
To pass the time they swim in volcanoes.
Finally holding back his laugh will speak:
"It is always the same with you descendants of apes. Call upon
God all you want, his name does not give you power. All the
mountains will be gone before I can go back to sleep. Your
raiment is not that of a sorcerer, who are you? With their
magick circles and threats of bounding me to an endless abyss,
they make me chuckle. . . . Man is nothing but a foolish creature.
You forgot your divinity, do you not know that from your toes to
the crown upon your head there is more than flesh! 'As above, so
below' as espoused by the ancients. Go ahead and drink from
Lethe because that is what you do when I attempt to impart on
thee true power. Your greatest sorcerers cannot even control their
blood flow at will and you want to talk to me."
where do we go from here,
from this broken fort?
who do we fall into,
after bleeding on cupid's court.
don't follow to close,
for you'll catch my sad remorse.
slam your door,
on my aching warmth.
let me dip in Lethe,
to forget my woes.
take a shallow breath,
who are you? only heaven knows.
I have paid heed
His weening always makes me bleed
That Fiend with his spleen
Nor let anyone see
That he counsels me
While I dream.
He wants my inferior soul
The more I sleep
The more he succeeds
Paradise he does not want me to reach
Who could it be
The terrible weight of his deceit
He is from no creed
His steed next to the Tree Eve sought
Secrets he can keep
My wish, to drink
From Lethe for eternity.
Written on January 2, yet I hesitated to post for obvious reasons (Lucy is a sketchy subject). I utilized the name Lucifer instead of Satan because the latter is plain evil.
I stand in a puddle of water
Liquid pooled around my ankles
Dripping from my eyes so slow I didn’t notice them at first
But when they become apparent, foreign fingers brushed them away
And I’d disregard the wetness to pull back the hands
Who do these hands belong to?
The puddle becomes a pool
I stand in the shallow end and wiggle my toes
My fingers have grown pruney from where my fingers dip in the water
Blisters have settled on my soles and children splash at my face
Droplets trail to my collarbone and I blink away water or tears and wonder
Ears listening to unrecognizable laughter
Whose children are these?
The water sits level at my mouth
I should feel weightless but my clothes drag me down
The pool has become a lake and I stand in it shivering
Perched on my toes there is a precarious balance for air
The tears don’t stop and keeps the water rising
My sobs echo across the surface
Murky figures wave at me from the shore and smile like they know me
Who am I?
They say a river never forgets
That it knows its way back to the ocean
But my river swirls around my head and drips from my ears
From my eyes
The lake forms a lock of memories that can be touched
But never held
A lake is where memories go to be forgotten
So I drown in a Lethe that pours from my eyes, from my mind
And I sink to forget and be forgotten
Bit personal, won't lie
Permission to use with credit
Sunken eyes, broken thoughts,
air with difficulty enters the lungs.
Dry mouth, lacrimation of no purpose,
the pillow full of nails she is resting upon.
The body, a ship stricken by a wave war.
remains are battling the seven seas of sorrow.
Like a painting uncovered,
black sheets cover the rays of the sun
from the soul.
Resident of a lucid dream,
mumbling to the wind that blows
regrets down to the river
between Hypnos and the Underworld,
to carry a message to the hearts
with locked doors.
A message of no words
but incoherent perceptions,
lost unknown connections
and strangled hopes.
Like the king of a rainy country, am I!
Rich, but weak, young with an agèd eye -
The grovelling of his old tutors he scorns,
The company of dogs leaves him forlorn.
Nothing can bring him joy, no hunt nor falconry,
Nor the mortal jousts before his balcony,
From his favourite jester no ***** tale
Can redden the cheek of one so pale.
His ornate chamber has become a tomb -
And courtesans, *******-clad, to whom,
Though royal favours inspire their provocation;
This skeletal youth finds no temptation.
Flamel himself could forge no plan
To extract the dark humours from this man.
In the baths of blood from days of yore,
He finds no properties to restore
This dazed corpse in whose veins once red -
Now flows the green waters of Lethe instead.
O cruel, drunken soul, darling tigress,
Come to my heart, you lethargic beast!
I long for my trembling hands to caress
Your thick and glossy fleece.
In your petticoats filled with your scent
To bury my poor, aching head,
Inhaling your flowery fragrance;
The sweetness of love now dead.
I wish to sleep, to dream perchance
As sweetly as death’s embrace,
Without remorse, my tongue will dance
On your coppery body and face.
To bury my sobbing for hours
Nothing equals your bed’s abyss,
On your lips lies oblivion’s power
And Lethe flows in your kiss.
Like one resigned to meet his end,
I’ll face my fate delighted;
Docile martyr, innocent condemned,
Whose fervour with pain is ignited.
I shall ****, to drown my malice,
With nepenthe and hemlock blessed;
Placing my lips upon the chalice
Of your pointed, heartless breast.
Squandered years whisper for release
from bitter sweet moments and the lonely now.
A kiss of sorrows gone too long unheeded
planted like a mercy killing upon that brow.
Memory passes coquettish, and I heed them
Skin passes unblemished, and I leave them
Her lips sparkle reddish, and I need them...
But lips must await the fulfilment of my vow.
As memory must abate to lips that disallow
their pain to share her bed;
their whispers in her head;
Lips that bring an end to sweet regrets
and when she wakes, this lonely Capulet
will find from her mind my lonely eyes
from memory are fleeting;
Lethe, planted gently on her brow,
from rain-soaked lips soft like regret.
Hidden like my eyes are hidden now,
Better to have loved and lost?
Better still, perhaps, to forget.
I'm not sure if this is finished, but I needed to write it.
A forest pathway I follow
Through a distant misty hollow
To a far place where thoughts unwind
That's buried deep within my mind
To the smooth banks of a clear stream
In this fair dream within a dream
My River Lethe gently calls
And to her depths, my spirit falls
In her sweet waters, I forget
This life of sorrow and regret
Perhaps this river, flowing free
Will pull me to the endless sea
Where Nereids live within the caves
So deep beneath its swirling waves
And lifetimes pass in depths pristine
As sun glints through aquamarine
And there one senses pure delight
As currents dance in pearly light
So to the sea where dolphins play
On this river, I'll drift away.
Note: Lethe, from Greek mythology, is pronounced:
This is a poem I wrote in 2009 after a walk in the woods. Last year a music composer contacted me and asked if he could use this in a public choral performance, and I gave him my permission. Am waiting to see how this turns out.
— The End —