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Tryst May 2014
All wise and knowing seer of Delphi, Oracle I beg thee tell me,
What enchanting malady afflicts my mortal soul?
It churns my stomach like as butter, pangs my heart and makes it flutter,
Spins my thoughts so rapidly, I lose all self-control;
A wildly spinning vortex and I lose all self-control.

Striking deeply, sharp blades whirring, thrusting madly, twisting, turning,
Searing pain that scorches, burning, brings me to despair;
Silently it tracks and trails me, pouncing when my courage fails me,
Oracle, what sickness ails me? Save me from its snare;
Oh wise and noble Oracle, what has me in its snare?

Mortal fool, be still and listen, I espied you in a vision,
Ancient magic has arisen from the depths of hell;
Crafted in the Devil's furnace, cunningly it seeks to burn its
Way into your soul, I've seen this, none can break its spell;
It knows your every weakness and you cannot break its spell.

You must succumb and do it swift, or e'er your soul will be adrift,
Held captive in the Devil's rift, your mind will split asunder;
Your struggle will be fought in vain, eternal doom in endless pain,
Relent or e'er you'll feel its bane, your soul it comes to plunder;
You must relent and let it in, or feel its wrathful thunder.

Oh Oracle, all wise and knowing, fear inside me keeps on growing,
I can sense a chill wind blowing, filling me with dread;
Although your words seem strange and hollow, I submit and gladly follow,
For I know the God Apollo guides the path you tread;
Wise Apollo takes your hand and guides the path you tread.

--

What sweet exquisite joy I'm feeling, giddily my head is reeling,
Days have passed and find me kneeling at my sweethearts feet;
Oh Oracle, I will not tarry, asking her if she will marry,
Saving me from malady, she makes my soul complete;
She drives away the malady and makes my soul complete.
Esherymack May 2014
sometimes, late at night
i lie awake, or sit, or even dance
i do not "sleep"
i might drowse, or snooze,
but only temporary reprive-
The Dark
holds its monsters and
pattering, clawed steps
outside of my candlelit chambers
and beyond the fragile makebelieve walls
of my lurking consciousness-
     light a candle.
     burn the Night.
     Smolder your eyes upon the smoke
banish my fears, faint light-
but do not destroy my peace-
morning Light, cast not your hands over
this black scry-stone!
Look but so gently into the Dark's swirling
and staring stars
down upon a ritual laid bare-
agate eyes upon the crown
upon the head of the young Oracle
a story for another time, a
prayer for a beating heart
in another place,
another darkened midnight womb
or perhaps an obsidian tomb--.
fill a chalice and not a mind
tip the contents to then find
a wandering flame spread to the wind
devouring those violent souls that have sinned
as such, topics change like Gaia
dear, as such my mind roams when
I cower in fear--.
in the imaginary arms of a
man I love, the one who can't be near.
Night sings a quiet song of insane
love and gentle terror, a soft-soft
sound that rings eternal
and lulls its listener not to sleep
but into a spell that gathers deep
within the core of the mind
behind the third,
before the eye,
but loud and deafening guilt
that keeps the shade-drawn witch
awake, and the quivering fear
racing in their youthful heart--.
Ladle the light of the stars above
into the cupped hands tonight
and sing the damnation back
to the groping clouds
on the black horizon, the violet and
blue and grey and white
swirling in cohesion and roaring into a wave of
conscious nightmares

i cannot deal with these thoughts
on my mind, resting upon
my heart
     my eyes
          my mind
               my very soul.
-the greybird

— The End —