#crypt
The overgrown fetus does not shiver here.
Splayed like a downed bird
head under brittle arms, one eye open to
nothing. Do you see your birthright in the darkness
Dove? Do you swoop in
my wake as you sleep? Yes, dream
your keen searching stare
and your downy talons on my back
parting skin like clouds.
Still you crack and pool
and putrefy on unyielding stone
for wrath is silent without air.
Dec 7, 2024
Dec 7, 2024 at 11:07 PM UTC
A passage
Once
Engulfed by an invigorating
Sea of pitch
Now transformed
By the ceaseless streaming of sand
To a cavernous crypt
Harassed by light unwelcome
Dank from the runoff
Of stagnant pools
Of thoughts outworn.
Cracks and crevices obscure
A multitude of doors -
Each with its own black sea
All but one with their own dank caves.
I search my pockets for clues gathered along the way -
Reclusive bits of knowledge
That burrow deeper to avoid my grasp.
The slow ones I reach
And they unwillingly reveal their prize
Shrinking some doors, enlarging others.
My choice is more limited now
But still unclear.
This is the final choice
And I know I must choose carefully.
I muster all my courage and open a door
Instantly recognizing the fulfilling blackness
Of a thousand other doors I have chosen.
I step forward . . .
And hope.
Apr 21, 2020
Apr 21, 2020 at 3:15 PM UTC
You turn on the music,
The tv,
And the radio;
To scare the silence away.
You’re scared that it will separate you from you.
You cling to the fear like a dying atheist,
Unsure what there is to come.
You are too busy living as a child,
And an old man.
You are running away from you.
You are being chased by your ghost,
Followed by the echo of the future and the past.
Body degrading in a crypt,
Below your carpet.
The smell wreaks of the death of you.
The vacuum of your mind is ******* you in.
You ask the person in the pool,
“Where is the person I recognize?”
The person asks the question too.
Your thoughts have become you.
Terrified of the life I live,
Looking for a way out.
I’m forgetting how to live.
As I try to find my way,
To the life I seek to claim,
I’m forgetting how to live.
May 31, 2019
May 31, 2019 at 7:16 PM UTC
a scab
turn punk
to martyr
like disease
was the
art for
some future
refinement to
paint with
a sponge
in whether
or not
a cape
would subside
in Ayer
with hare
of mine
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 11:00 AM UTC
The crypt is one thing I see,
A mirror that reflects me.
One that lives is one who hates.
One that died is one love waits.
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 10:05 PM UTC
So lost again where you found me
Locked secrets burning in dark eyes
Your demons from past haunting us
The passion keeps pulling me in
Words you say reeks of emotions
Hidden beneath cold crypt
I got close to the flames of your soul
Now I am your ash your smoke
The cigarette that you kissed deliberately
Remained residue consumed on your fingers
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 8:56 AM UTC
Upon the hilltop
Far over the golden horizon
Where the sun peeks out
From behind the blue crystals
Lining the cloudless sky,
There sit gray
Obelisks, towers of fractured stone
And gleaming silver flowers
That chant the distant melodies
Of those who lay below the grass.
The obelisks line in circles
And weep silently for what age
Has brought upon their faces;
Moss and cracks, dirt upon bouquets,
Names weathered down to pebbles
Vast plains of unturned soil.
At nightfall, winds break
Upon the hilltop's gates
And send forth siren calls
That plead for silent harmonies
Somewhere deep underground,
Below the grasses, below the tombstones
That rise and fall like waves
That sit silent, immobile,
As time strikes its silver chisel
Upon the forgotten markers of those
Who have been locked
Inside its ticking crypt.
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 8:33 PM UTC
i.
From the soot
I shalt awake;
In mine arm's
Love do take,
Queen, mine
Home, mine
Night and day;
Mine trove of
Treasure, to
Thee I stay.
ii.
In the aqua
Dip mine head;
Living nomad's
Oriental home-
Stead. Taking
Breath's, blowing
Out heat, touching
Toe's, united feet.
From below, thence
The deep, in thy tress,
I wrap around, once unheard,
Now thou hath heard mine sound's.
From the crypt, where I was buried, I cried out loud,
In painful worries; mine ghost scurried, to and fro, then I saweth
Thee; mine Jane, mine own. Thus then was saved, from the foul devil's, I was rescued, brought to thine refined level.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 7:43 AM UTC
i.
Awakest
She summoned me from mine crypt;
Her honey saliva awoke me
From her lively lip's.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 10:54 PM UTC
In the musty crypt.
Beneath the Norman church.
In the old town.
Orleans.
'Tis said.
Hangs a deep red tapestry.
An old gas lamp.
Stands in the corner at the end.
Currently unlit.
Curious.
Considering , you the intruder can smell the wick of recently extinguished gas.
You feel your way round.
Fighting the darkness.
You hold in your rigid hand a torch.
A plastic battery operated one.
Hidden secrets revealed.
An antiquated niche.
Carved out of the cold wall.
It hides a long abandoned tea stained book.
Itching to take a look.
Edging silently forward in a nervous state.
The dark and dust are choking you.
Your ears peeled, by your own fear.
A shuffling sound,
The dragging of the owners feet.
They're scratching.
Apparently, the owner's completely unaware.
Of your inadvertent space invading.
It's his space you're invading.
He knows you're there.
Ushered to the coffin edge.
Encouraged on by his bony finger.
Petrified.
He grabs your wrist.
Aiming your torch inside.
Inside the coffin.
Lay a mere chess set.
Made of shiny green marble.
The bare bones.
Made the first move.
You were to be his latest pawn.
From out of the gloom.
A booming voice was heard to say.
"All hallows eve".
"I'm glad you came, I so hoped, a playmate would join me today."
(C) Livvi
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
I was playing a game with my kids the other day
I asked:
What do you use to see?
She said 'your eyes'
He said 'your brain'
Both right
Next I asked what do you use to hear?
She said 'your ears'
He said 'your brain'
Both right, again
The wisdom of children!
The game ended there but it got me thinking about what we use to feel
The most straight forward answer is our skin
Your brain is what processes the sense of touch so that has to be included
What about your heart?
Where does it fit into the big scheme of things?
Isn't the heart the space where we process feelings?
I have to loosely define things and often turn them upside down
ruminate
reorder my worldview to make it copacetic
I'm pretty sure that I often walk in two worlds
If my mind is simply locked in the western paradigm then people look at me like I'm bizarre
I'm not joking when I say they've wanted to lock me up because of my views
When I allow my mind to get locked into this western paradigm,
I sometimes even feel like I belong in lockup.
That's even worse than being held against your will
You're being held because you've lost your will
So I play with definitions to better suit my needs
When you do this however, there is a risk
Last summer I unlocked a spectre as I drank deeply and greedily from Crypt Lake
Crypt Lake is a real place on this planet
How did it get it's name (you might ask)?
According to the Blackfoot, placenames aren't given,
they come from place
Let's contextualize ~ this is all part of the journey
The physical leads to the spiritual and vice versa
To get to Crypt Lake you have to enter Waterton-Glacier International Peace Park
Found in the southwest corner of Alberta and the northwest corner of Montana
Once through the gates you have to catch a boat at a certain time
You have to be in the physical plane of existence at this point otherwise you're not getting on that boat
Once you get to the trailhead, then you can start to drift
That's what I did
As I walked, I let the stories come into me
I let them flow through me
They were sitting there waiting to be told
A spruce, arm in arm, with a pine
Hawks circling overhead
An ever present alertness for our bear brethren
Always open to the wildflowers
Indian paintbrush (I have red hair could I be considered an indian paintbrush?)
Pollinators flitting about
Oh, the water
Listen to the stories the water told:
First we come to Hell Roaring Falls
Next Twin Falls
Next Burnt Rock Falls
And to reach the Crypt, we have to pass through a mountain tunnel
Opening up to Crypt Falls
and finally Crypt Lake
This is a regular heroes journey if you allow it to be
I was in that place in my mind where I allowed it to unfold as it may
This is a place that's also known as the Crown of the Continent
Not far away is Chief Mountain, Turtle Mountain, and Crowsnest Mountain
Also Writing-On-Stone and the Milk River and Sweetgrass
These are holy names, this is a holy land
What I saw at Crypt Falls was the backbone of the continent
I saw the backbone of Turtle Island
I was floored
I had been on a continent wide spirit quest a few years previously
There was talk that the Deed for Turtle Island was coming due
And maybe it would be produced at one of these gatherings
We all waited but nobody produced it
I ruminated on that idea for a few years
I'm pretty sure that the Deed was there
Those who held it, just didn't realize
I learned something at the Crypt
I wanted answers and I made an assumption
I assumed that the water held the answers
So I drank deeply, even greedily from the Crypt
Right there in the international peace park, on the crown of the continent
With the Old Chief and the Crowsnest not far away
Writing-On-Stone just a sashay away
What about writing in calcium?
If I were the earth, I would encode important information in something
Transmutable
Not blood.
Bones
What I learned up there on the mountain as I gulped down knowledge from the Crypt was that the deed is written into the bones of the land and into the bones of those borne of that land
This is indigenous knowledge
It's in the water, the water is the medium for the message
The bones are the stock
But just like a double helix
A genetic sequence is an expression of time and place
On a certain spacetime continuum this innocuous looking structure
(take a look in the mirror)
Has all the necessary answers
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC