#mythos
"Remember, remember,
The 𝘍𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘩 of November:
Gunpowder, treason, plot.
For there is a reason
Why gunpowder & treason
Should ne'er be forgot."
Aye.
Drop all the bawny
And read it right:
One will notice
The exclusion in remembrance
Of plot proper.
What drivel, what rot.
A nursery rhyme,
Meant to lull asleep a populace.
You hear the story
That they were religious nuts,
That was projection.
Not a soul on our side
Was for balmy superstition.
We who was folks of science & virtue,
Philosophy proper was our standard -
What that had been & is corrupt.
Remember the Fifth
And remember his brother;
Two blonde youths,
Two tawny royal lads,
And one whom they slaughtered.
We fought for the expansion of freedoms,
Civil liberties & such.
For the likes of social programs now widely enjoyed -
Schooling, healthcare, and the like.
For not a soul among us to know hunger,
That they might have daily - bread
And the like.
A son named
After a king usurped -
Woodville, or Wideville;
For it is a large world,
But really quite navigable.
And a King who took a new name
In honor of his slain uncle,
D̲i̲c̲c̲o̲n̲ C̲l̲a̲r̲k̲e̲
Once more, where moored,
The only survivor.
Might is nary ever really right.
They too saw that
On the Isle Wight.
This line;
Long & tried,
Persecuted & replanted.
Forevermore,
As it had been before
And doubtless shall be again,
Wearing the verdant festoon.
May your wreaths also blossom!
In Old World, like New;
Truth is always the fashion,
Justice is always the passion.
Jul 25, 2025
Jul 25, 2025 at 12:09 PM UTC
🤴
Approach, dear dreamer, if you dare,
But know my skies hold thinning air.
My steps are stitched in woven flame,
My name, too sharp for lips of shame.
You came with hands of dust and thread,
A crown of noise upon your head.
No sword, no gift, no golden key,
Yet thought to tame a storm like me.
Did Daedalus forget to warn his son?
Even Icarus soared closer than you’ve done.
You chase the sun but dread the cold,
A heart too timid, a hand too old.
I dance where only giants tread,
I feast where lesser men have fled.
I wear the stars, I breathe the skies,
I kiss the sun where eagles rise.
So take this truth I lay in rhyme:
A throne too high commits no crime.
It’s built for those who carve through air
Not those who knock and gasp for prayer.
🤴
Jul 17, 2025
Jul 17, 2025 at 6:41 AM UTC
The sky phased through twilights, but it was a nautical dusk that forced my eyes open
That fateful night , the heavens cracked open like a split glacier, spewing
what I thought to be a sweetling star
Ribbons of molten silver cascaded into the cliffs beyond the village, and
beyond the tower— no blaring horns, but a glow,
one of the brightest, deepest blues that faded into the cliff’s roughage like a sigh—
I swayed above in the bell tower, mouth agape, hands tangled in ropes
No star burned slow like a candle— no meteor bends so softly like vines
Winding into the hills and mountains
My eyes caught the extraterrestrial being, a shadow draped with wings ablaze, sparking— I could see a body, not a meteor, then tumbling and skittering
like shards of glass across the empty copper pit
Soon it became darker, and only the stars were my guide toward the old quarry,
Where I began the slow descent to meet the foreign sprite
Who etched its supernova trail into my eyelids
As I trekked closer to this form, to this exo-,
My sight blurred and doubled for seconds at a time,
I was swallowed by smells and sounds that I knew could not exist—
And I stopped before the mine’s mouth, where veins of Blue John
Slithered deeper into the cave, and my breath was caught in the air,
As I trembled and knelt into the dust, knees kissing the earth
There it laid — a glimmer caught between rocks, dirt, and shadows,
Its breath, too, shallow, and its chest fluttering like a hatchling
that fell out of the nest while learning to fly
It took on the form of a woman, it seemed, a woman that was covered
In diamond dust, coldness crawled from her skin, her sweat was liquid
Hydrogen, and she shuddered and coughed and flailed
With haste, with clumsiness, with care I rolled her onto her side
as she gagged and coughed, splinters of quartz and ore flew out of her trembling mouth— behind her were her wings, in large broken pieces
“Oh, sweetling,” I hummed, “look at your wings:
They’re crushed, broken, snapped — they’re in oblivion,”
Her eyes fluttered open; in a weak attempt, she pushed herself upwards
“How can an angel like you fly off to Heaven now?” I cooed,
Swatting sweat from her forehead tenderly, catching her as she fell once more,
a fall gentler than before; yet Gravity’s grip forbade her to look up
“You,” I breathed, and her skin, like a chameleon, changed
From once unseen colors into full ocher brown
with pink undertones and pink veins
“You ought to stay here and I ought to fix your wings,”
She did not resist as she laid her head, filled with tendrils and coils,
On my chest, her hair chanting whispers and secrets
I carried her and her broken wings in my arms; she spoke–
She uttered her name as a song, she sang vowels that my mouth could not shape,
Sounds my anatomy was forbidden to use
“You ought to stay here and I ought to sew your wings back,
You ought to stay here and I ought to bathe you, my pretty winglet,”
I sang back to her, and her breaths were ballads of her past
Carefully I brought her to my cottage, my humble living that was
closest to the tower that I cared for, the bells that I rang,
And too, like them, was she one that I cared for
As the earth continued to spin, and the night continued to buzz,
She rested in the corner near the crackling fire, her eyelashes touching
The floorboards in an alien beauty—
In the moment, I dreamed and wondered if my years of hard work
And grit and solitude were repaid and blessed in the form of
A starlet, or perhaps, really and truly, an angel
Sent by the Great Lord Himself, to reunite my heart with
The heart of the expanding fabric of space and time,
To bring me closer to truths I’ve begged and cried for since a boy—
“Shimmering, glimmering, glinting — like gun-metal, your wings,
They resemble gun-metal,” and I worked during the sunlight in which she slept,
And I lay beside her in a hammock during the twilight in which she came to me
“Dull earth are your eyes, and little rocks still protrude from your skin, aye—
A mess you are, Angel, and a cleanser, I am, Angel—”
Jul 6, 2025
Jul 6, 2025 at 12:59 PM UTC
Some things get past death,
But not what's right
And yet neither what's left.
It's like a portal as obelisk,
It's like an orb of light that's electric.
No matter how you view it-
It's all lookings, each perspective.
It's a thin bridge,
A causeway that's been setup for you
If you just find your way
And choose to walk it.
If you're not careful,
And you're not a wanderer nor sailor,
You'll slip and fall into the marsh.
And that's like a nefarious ocean.
If next time around
You want to remember;
Walk the steep mountain passes,
Down through the valleys,
Past the swamps & wetlands,
Through the deserts & oasis,
In the towering forests & clearings,
The fields of caverns & caves.
You just have to figure it out
Before you die.
Have you been learning?
Feb 15, 2025
Feb 15, 2025 at 2:47 AM UTC
"I hear the old man had a son."
"No, truly? Surely not."
"I can attest to it, I played witnessed
As part of their caerimonia."
"I'm moving him to Rome,
He'll live as my slave
And I'll make him a gladiator."
"Oh-ho, that's rich! He died like an insect,
Sipping poison."
"How are we going to get away with this?
The walls are starting to close in."
"Relax, just change the dates. Make some edits."
"Nobody will notice?"
"I highly doubt it. Plus, they'd have to prove it. And we're sat on top of the evidence."
"How many times has this happened?"
More than once.
Feb 15, 2025
Feb 15, 2025 at 12:16 AM UTC
You think I speak of blood lineage,
Clearly I hold the whetstone,
But that's because you're dull.
Maybe,
I am.
From my shine, shimmer-
I'll stay solid as file;
Whether if needed firm or gentle,
Soft or abrasive.
In address to the west,
The rising sun.
At least, that's from our perspective.
From the hammer
Who shaped the stone.
Feb 14, 2025
Feb 14, 2025 at 11:07 PM UTC
Mencius, what is that they're doing?
Zhǐ! Another immortal walked from the sea;
Leaf & cordage finely chopped,
Throughly masticated & combined,
Left to the air to then reside
And collected after dried.
How most strange & curious!
You say the nobility call this parchment,
But for humor as irony
And because of the sound made
During the process of hammering,
The craftsmen call it paper?
And, like with tattoos,
They use pastes & fluids like dyes & resins
To stain drawings, shapes, and characters?
The lesser the weight of tablets,
Well-traveled with, easily read & clearly,
Markable with ease; readily inviting change
After change, reflecting our fragileness & resilience, offering record of our thoughts & accomplishments, a chance for the more prolific scribe and the library diverser & denser?
How wonderous a creation,
How gifted the craftsmen,
How genius the inventors.
Wow. That was so long ago
Before I was born.
But then compared to much else,
This fledgling has yet to have flown
From the small enclaves it nests as home.
Feb 11, 2025
Feb 11, 2025 at 4:11 PM UTC
onslaughts of parasitic butterflies devour her liver each eve
sparing just enough to grow back the next day
her night clothes are torn under razor beaks
then mended each morning by the nimble-fingered Narcissi
who do not lament her predicament,
but sing mellow little tunes in C minor,
a statement: there is no latent compassion for Pandora
nor for her descendants in Greece or in Rome.
Sep 5, 2023
Sep 5, 2023 at 3:49 PM UTC
From within The Spy's enfolding spire,
There emits a glint of fragile light,
Revealing an unreachable, mist-fading city—
The vivid incantation of unutterable occult rites.
Before the riptide of the shore,
Illumed by the light of his flickering flame,
The Spy collapses into his spire,
Only to emerge once again:
Now past the water's glistening edge,
Having scaled the city's sky-flung walls.
Now moving between ancient shadows,
Following the light of his vermilion flame.
Now seeking catacomb chambers
Where, among dismantled skeletal bones,
The master of the slumbering dead resides.
Jan 9, 2023
Jan 9, 2023 at 8:39 PM UTC
Now Ritacene had too, followers, who would go on and build Raxon around her and her fields
Lady of Order, she bore twins- Abreh and Esseneh, sons which would assist in making animals
Abreh thought of animals and how the would work- their cycles, families, species, and yields
Esseneh felt of them and how they run, gallop, breed- all the fish, birds, reptiles and mammals
One day, while visiting their aunt Phalgacene in her realm Phaxon, she gave them a challenge
‘Work as one, and as one you may work- make me, your aunt, a perfect and splendid animal’
Abreh, who took the challenge with most seriousness, thought of perfection in the form of life
He thought of arms and hands that create like Palcion, yet can destroy like that of Retisbon
And so of legs, chest, and a mind that though like him- so much so, Abreh became a brain
Esseneh, who took the challenge with most seriousness, felt of perfection in the form of life
He thought of an animal who can love like Lady Abro and forget like King Chazan of the sky
And so of heart, emotion, lust, greed, and want- so much so, Esseneh would become a heart
Phalgacene looked unto his two nephews and was shocked, worried, disgusted, and scared.
Shocked to see the mind of Abreh in its truest form, and so the the heart of Esseneh as well
Worried that in this most vulnerable state, the two would be injured yet immortal, forever in pain
Disgusted for Abreh’s thoughts and ideas gained movement, and Esseneh bled all over her
And scared that if Ritacene where to see her sons, she would be forlorn and upset for them
When the Lady of Order feels forlorn and upset, her fields dry out- the Malzaphaiatan riot
When the Lady of Order weeps and is cast down- the Zapharagaz are startled and stampede
In these the earth quakes and shakes mountains, and the sea torrents and kills countless
For though Phalgacene is the Lady of Chaos, Ritacene is the Lady of Order- disorder is chaos
For when Ritacene is angered, her sister comes to calm her, and brings her chaos to her order
When Ritacene is sad, he sisters comes to console her, and brings her war to her peacefulness
When Ritacene is sad and refuses to eat, Phalgacene comes to feed her- which starves many
The Two Ladies’ sororal love for eachother sing a song of nature and its harmonies and rhythm
When the Lady of Chaos seethes, spears grow like grain from backs of Malzaphaiatan herds
And the Zapharagaz dock and sail her navy unto the walls of nations- beating their stone down
As Phalgacene seethes, Ritacene comes to reason with her- and brings diplomacy to her wars
When Phalgacene hunts down other spirits, her sister stops her, and saves slaves from hunters
When Phalgacene speaks of destruction, her sister eases her, and delivers men from calamity
And so as to not dip a world in its infancy still- so delicate, so new, and so innocent- in chaos
Phalagacene sought to save the brain of Abreh and heart of Esseneh from eternal anguish
In her forge in which she used to cast the molds of her spears, swords, maces, and dirks-
She waxed its walls, heated its molds, and poured blessed bronze into its cavities hollowed
The mold she made to the designs of Abreh and Esseneh- who spoke of them so frequently
That the words had carved themselves into the walls of her court like instructions to follow
She planned to take the brain of Abreh and set it on the perfect bronze head to save it and him
She planned the heart of Esseneh to go to the perfect bronze chest to save both it and him
The bronze lay liquid and she left for it to set. She took Abreh and Esseneh- brain and the heart
She put them within jars of jeweled glass filled with water from the stream of Palcion, the Infinite
The stream from which Palcion uses to moisten the clay from which he molds all things from-
This water from the stream protected the Brain of Abreh and the Heart of Esseneh from pain
Meanwhile, in Ayar, Da’raan- King of Demons, first of the Great Demons, was much debauched
Trapped within the realm of the nothing of nothings in their fortress in the acid lake of Mizharyan
Da’raan and his legionnaires, the Bahalzaryan- pass the centuries brewing wine from acid water
They brew the rust that is shaved from their spears and ferments it in the waters of Mizharyan
From this, a wine that can burn through ones entrails is made, and is strong enough for Da’raan
Forlorn with Phalgacene’s rejection, he throws all the spears in Mizharyan and brews them all
Old spears and new ones sink to the bottom of the acid lake- its acid rusting them all to nothing
And in the span of a day, lake Mizharyan has fermented completely into the strong acid wine
Da’raan, in his sadness, sings of his woes and worries and hearteach to Lady Phalgacene
‘You trusted me with your best men, o Lady of Chaos. And in war, your life was to me as mine.
Foolish of me to think you thought of me more- merely one below your command and sword
I desire not only for you- but for your pride in me. Foolish men rarely gladen without good wine’
And so Da’raan drank the entirety of lake Mizharyan, which at this point was no more than wine
As the banks and bottom revealed itself, a spear unrusted stuck from the ground below them
One of the Bahalzaryan descended to it and to retrieve the spear, which was Da’raan’s spear
When it was dislodged from the ground, it revealed a spring that sprung and refilled Mizharyan
Da’raan wanted to mine iron to rust and make more wine, but the Bahalzaryan stopped him.
‘My Lord, you are in drunken haze- walk off your stupor and allow Mizharyan to heal its banks’
Da’raan , with the fair Phalgacene in mind, wandered out of the realm of Ayar much aroused
His face reddened and his clothes grew tight- Palcion distracted and Retisbon who was blind
Did not notice the Demon King walk drunkenly out of Ayar and into Phaxon- chaos’ domain
He wandered into her court, unseen to her true legionnaires due to the stench of acid wine
There he found Phalgacene casting a body of bronze for her nephews, Abreh and Esseneh
She was unaware of da’raan’s presence, for she blessed the bronze that set in the molds
Da’raan called for her and expressed his love ‘Lay with me, Lady of Chaos! Bear me a son!’
‘Da’raan! Heresiarch and King of Demons! Do you remember not? You are exiled from Phaxon!’
‘Lady of Chaos, I desire your pride in me! Leave me barren, but I will leave thee not, o love!’
‘I shall **** thee, Da’raan!’ Da’raan, thoroughly drunk, mistook her threat for an invitation to lay
The drunken King of Demons disrobed, and Phalgacene who has not seen men, stepped back
It seemed Da’raan had unsheathed a monstrous spear. Defenseless, she thought to evade him
In her pursuit, Da’raan leaped and ********** into the liquid bronze as it set and hardened.
Still in drunken stupor, the Demon King could not pursue Phalgacene any longer and fell asleep
The bronze body hardened, and the sleeping Da’raan was escorted out of Phaxon, back to Ayar
Phalgacene, ignorant of the new addition, assembled the body and put Abreh and Esseneh in
The new being was twice as immortal as Abreh and Esseneh as was known as Abresseneh
He returned to ritacene, who loved his new son more than her old twins, and thanked Chaos
Abresseneh then created a new animal- man and woman. He would create them all in sets.
He made them in sets, for as twins he was created, and in his image were these animals made
Though these sets were not bound by anything, not even by family, blood, or name- poor things
And so man and woman are cursed to find the other, wed them, and complete the divine set
Descendants of three gods- Ritacene, Phalgacene, and Da’raan- humanity has this ultimatum
Mighty like Phalgacene, humanity may use his might to serve Ritatcene or serve Da’raan
Though humans are true descendants of Ritacene, their bodies are of Da’raan’s tainted lineage
In this, man’s conscience and morality pulls him to the Lady of order, their true mother Ritacene
Also in this, man’s body, desires, and vices pulls him to the Demon King, corruptor Da’raan
And so my students- Barzan, Valkar, and Homet- behold the story of mankind and his origin
Our creator father Abresseneh, son of Ritacene, Phalgacene, and Da’raan- calls us all by name
Do we use the strength of Chaos within us to serve Order or Evil? Preach this as you write of it.
Jul 10, 2021
Jul 10, 2021 at 9:54 AM UTC
‘Write this down, and read these out to anyone who will listen- listen to the tale of Phalgacene’
Phalagacene is the twin of Ritacene, both very beautiful, for they resemble one another
Ritacene’s beauty is magnified by her grace, compassion, kindness- around her, cities are built
Phalgacene’s beauty was charismatic. Despite her many sharp teeth, she inspired others
Now the creation of Palcion and the destruction of Retisbon created a process so strong-
That spirits lesser to the gods yet greater or equal to man were born from the friction of the two
These spirits sought power for their place in the world, and like plants, attached themselves-
To kings, to men, to lovers, and to fools. The wiser sought to seek the gods and their power
These spirits sought power for their own power, out of rocks they hewn and trees they felled
Cities of divine magnificence for their object of worship- these cities would soon begin to tower
One of these cities was the realm of the twin of chaos, Phalgacene, to where the end welled
Her followers took up spears and swords, not for war, but to honour her teeth and power
The legions of Phalgacene were fearsome and powerful, and defended her divine city, Phaxon
Among them most obedient, but among them radical, boisterous, full of vice, and most immoral-
The Bahalzaryan, led by Da’raan, courted Lady Chaos, pined to wed her, and bear him a son
She refused, and in this, he was angered, so rose to foolishly threaten a Chaos that is immortal
And so with her meteors with chains spanning all of space called for and faced Da’raan head on
He, with his Bahalzaryan, were defeated and they were banished from Phaxon forever more
Da’raan led his men to Chazan, who for them opened to grant them audience with Retisbon
In the darkness of the primordial court of the Twin Creator and Destroyer, they bowed to latter
And asked ‘Great ratisbon of the Limits, grant us a home, for your daughter has orphaned us!’
And in response, the great on took out his hand and carved a hole into ‘nothing more after’
It was dark and was the nothing of nothings- there he threw the Bahalzaryan in a ******
It was empty, so empty as it was the nothing of all nothings- and so as this hell, forever empty
And so the fate of Da’Raan and his legion of exiled Bahalzaryan- the first of hell’s legionnaires
And their master, the first great demon- Da’raan the Heresiarch, who disobeyed Phalgacene
In the new realm within the nothing of nothings- a hell named Ayar, filled with fire and acid air
Within Ayar, the memory of every battle and war plays out forever in endless strife and misery
Within Ayar, to protect himself and his army, Da’raan built a fortress in the acid lake Mizharyan
And so the tale of Phalgacene and her legions, and Da’raan and his men, the Bahalzaryan
Jul 10, 2021
Jul 10, 2021 at 8:19 AM UTC
Oh dessert zephyrs- take me, whisk me away from the vice of man and his cities
Take me to the dunes and caves- where I shall sleep on stone and eat locusts and honey
Oh desert zephyrs- fend off the men and who pursue me- for I detest all publicity
Oh desert zephyrs- send my prayers to Lady Abro, and tell her to take me soon and quick
For I took refuge in the heat of Chazan’s hearth- to burn off thoughts of lust and money
Oh desert zephyrs- belay my prayer; they’re here to stay. Bring us then to eat- bread and milk
And o, they say they follow me into the dunes of the Jashad, there are three of them here
The first- offered me his sash and fine clothes. I say that we are here now here to turn away from that
The second- offered himself to me as ganymede. I say we run and from lust to steer clear
The third- his treasure- I valued the most. He offered me his obedience. Night came, and we sat
And as we sat, I told them why I came to Jashad. ‘I came to seek Chazan and his heat’
‘And also Lady Abro and her patience.’ for the day is short and the night is long, very long
For as soon as we have come away from Ritacene, Phalgacene comes and meets us head on
And I dare not stay in the fire of foolish men when the night ends and dies to the fires of dawn
But much is lost in the play of the Twins, for now let me tell you their tale, my dear new friends-
Ritacene is the goddess of all that is order, and her twin Phalgacene, the goddess of all chaos
They mirror their father and uncle- Palcion and Retisbond- he who brings life and he who ends
Retisbon of the Limits cannot bear child- so Palcion bears twins, and gives Phalgacene to him
Palcion’s creations all float at random. And so Ritacene, with her many hands, arranges them all
Retisbon strips them of being, so Phalgacene chews them with her many sharp teeth for death
All that is created was a thought by Palcion, which were then designed by Ritacene’s many hands
All that dies is called to come to Retisbon, and their bodies torn apart by the jaws of Phalgacene
And so, all that Ritacene designs is order, which is a vision of nature and its divine creation
And to resist her designs is a tune of chaos, to which man marches to the jaws of Phalgacene.
As to not upset her sister, Phalgacene swore to swallow those who live and die as she designed
As to not starve her sister, Ritacene gave those who resisted design for her to chew and devour
When men live in peace, we live by the design of Ritacene and so die gently by Phalgacene
But as you see, man has used the designs of Ritacene for crime, greed, lust, power, and evil-
And so, Ritacene shall grow angry and Phalgacene shall grow fat and the darkness will follow
The rhythm of nature will be obscured and war shall overcome- the wrath of the Twin goddesses
Lady Abro and Chazan, the sky King, and their children- the seasons- will take ear of Ritacene
Times will grow dark just like the Sky- Winter and Autumn shall fatten as their siblings grow thin
The darkness and cold shall go one for longer, while summer and spring will never yonder!
Man cannot eat his gems and gold, nor his women and slaves, though he could go on and try!
Man cannot come to his governor, for the coward has fled, with the city’s coffers and food!
Man will **** man for what little is left, and what little is left for man- a banquet for Phalgacene
‘In the desert, he sit on the lips of Phalgacene. There is already little to begin with, yet some live’
I take a cactus by the hand and break it open for the three- ‘here is our water, and this- our food’
I take a locust and put it in my mouth. ‘Here lies the realm closest to Phalgacene.’ I tell the three
‘Yet in this realm, we are safest- for the food of the twin of chaos will go over our heads’ I said.
‘Go back!’ I tell them. ‘Go and bring back only what I tell you: Your names, papyrus, and reed’
‘We shall jot down the history of the world and all that ever has and will!’ I'll tell them.’
They brought back their names- the three where
Barzan, meaning calligraphy
Valkar, meaning letters
Homet- meaning ‘meaning’
three scribes stood with their master,
Eebrhu, whose name meant language
Jul 9, 2021
Jul 9, 2021 at 9:57 PM UTC
Palcion and Ratisbon stood amidst eachother forever-
the father of being and the bringer of non-being stood
And as they stood, time and her efforts in vain, they she could not weather
Palcion and Retisbon looked upon the first to move between them
named the consequence of being and unbeing- Abro, meaning passage
Abro could topple walls and reduce mountains, all while light as a feather
Abro was not the mother of peace, nor the maiden of chaos-
The former was Ritacene- daughter of Palcion, whom he named after his brother
The latter was Phalgacene, daughter of Retisbon, who named her after the other
Abro was the steed of Phalgacene, who pulled her chariots and made her spears fly
Abro was also the bull of Ritacene, who plowed her fields and grew her wheat
And when the sisters argued, Abro would sit between them and wait, and stare at the sky
Abro would count the faces of the sky, and found the sky to be beautiful
‘I am Chazan- servant of Palcion and Retisbon,'’ the sky said. ‘I carry the weight of them both”
‘I am Abro- the eldest of the goddesses Ritacene and Phalgacene’ she told him
‘You are such a strong and fair woman,’ Chazan said. ‘To keep your youngers from conflict’
‘I do no such thing’ said Abro. ‘They are twins, and as above, they are as two as they are one’
‘They, like their fathers, are two faces of one disk-’ she went on ‘and so conflict they do not risk’
‘And you Chazan?’ Abro asked him. ‘What of you, and why above all made but below makers?’
‘I am the throne of the creator of creators and destroyer of destroyers’ he said to Abro.
‘I conceal the made from their maker and the maker from what they’ve made’ he went on
‘I hide the destruction from their destroyer- I herald the light of being and death’s shade.’
‘I find you beautiful-’ said Abro. ‘What say you to be my groom? What say you I be your bride?’
And in that, the swords of Phalgacene glowed bright, and Ritacene’s crops began to die
Chazan’s hair began to grow short and loose, and the face of the sky burst into flames
The air began to heat and the sky’s blue began to lighten- Chazan’s skin became like glass
Abro saw Chazan- his skin pink, orange, green, and cerulean- his two eyes, the sun and moon
‘You lie to me, Abro-’ he said aloud. ‘How can you say I'm beautiful when this is what I am?’
‘Everchanging, ever new- I will shed a thousand skins, but you will still be you’ he told Abro.
‘How can you have a husband, whose faces change, and whose memory of you with it fades?’
And so, Abro stood, and faced the sky. Her legs began to grow tired, and so she went away.
Chazan, seeing this, fell into misery. The sky darkened and the the winds blew strong
The fields of Ritacene were reduced to lakes of mud, while rust grew on Phalgacen’s wheels
Chazan was in tears. His hair grew long and wispy and from them- water crashed into the earth
Then Abro returned, with the beast Malzaphaiatan- whom she borrowed from her sisters
Malzaphaiatan was a beast that plowed fields and pulled chariots and on it, Abro sat and waited
Abro’s sisters made more of these beasts, and soon their numbers would become the land
They’re backs fertile and their stampedes would causes quakes, but upon them Abro sat
Abro sat and waited for Chazan to calm down- and upon Malzaphaiatan she would wait
Chazan, upon seeing Abro, lightened and was delighted. “You have returned! I am elated!‘
He ran through the sky and to the ground at such speed, which created lighting and thunder
He ran to hold Abor and lay with her on Malzaphaiatan- and in their bliss was born Spring.
Chazan would soon change face again- and the air began to heat and the sky would lighten
The glow of Phalgacene’s metal and the drooping of Ritacene’s plants all heralded one thing-
“Abro’s lover was angry.” in his rage, he remembered Abro not, and so Abro stood and went.
She borrowed Zapharagaz from her sisters- a steed of of great speed- delicate and deadly
Zapharagaz carried Phalgacene’s navy, and fed the fields and water wheels of Ritacene
Abro drove Zapharagaz across the herds of Malzaphaiatan so that Chazan may drink
Across the backs of the herds, she carved waterways, canals, and cisterns with Zapharagaz
The tracks of Zapharagaz made rivers and from the places it rested, were oceans and lakes
Abro made a chalice from clouds and gave it to her lover Chazan to drink- and he was calmed
This face of Chazan knew Abro not- but found her beautiful. ‘Be my bride, oh Lady of Time!’
‘Be my bride and this entire kingdom of fire and light shall be as yours as it is mine!’
‘I shall be your bride, and you shall be my groom!’ and so they lay together and bore Summer
Chazan would not change face again, and his memory of Abro would persist, yet he was sad.
‘Abro, my love- Queen of the Sky as I am its King; does it not hurt when I forget you at times?’
‘Chazan, my love- King of the sky who made me its queen; I love you and all your faces.’
‘How could you? What if I forget you in those faces? What would become of us and of life?’
‘I will still love you’ she said. ‘And each of your faces, what face may come, will call me its wife’
And so in a gentle breeze and lingering warmth, Chazan used the sun and breeze on the land
He took the Clouds away, but stunted the heat of the sun. He dried the leaves of Ritacene-
He put the soldiers of Phalgacene to rest and told them to return to their wives and families
He blew across the sea and into land to create the first wind and waves, and so he began
And so with a gentle breeze and lingering warmth, the harvest began and produce came
Upon the backs of the herd- Chazan painted a golden portrait of Abro, and it was beautiful
And so in a gentle breeze and lingering warmth, the two lay once more and bore Autumn
As Abro awoke, she found her husband away from her embrace. Chazan was not away though.
Chazan could simply not be seen. Droplets of hard, cold water fell on Abro’s hands. They spelt:
‘Who are you? I am Chazan, king of the sky. Who are you, why are you here?’ said the snow.
‘I am Abro, Lady of Time, first daughter of the twin Kings of Creation and Destruction’ she said.
‘I am the eldest child of Palcion and Retisbon. I am the eldest to Ritacene- goddess of order’
‘And of Phalgacene- goddess of chaos.’ she boasted. ‘You are in the presence of the gods’
‘You were drunk, and in your stupor, took me to your bed.’ Abro wanted to know what he’d say.
‘Forgive me! I am king of the sky, but humble servant first to the Twin Kings- how do I repent? ’
‘You shall have to wed me! For we shall both be punished if the Twins find out!’ Abro told him.
Abro, despite her love for Chazan, wanted to be wed. And so, the king of the sky wed her.
Chazan froze the waters for them to walk on and donned the land white in snow- as did Abro
Ordained as husband and wife by the twin gods, Chazan and Abro were wed- and bore Winter.
The children of Chazan and Abro would be the essence of the seasons who played together-
Spring, the fastest and most beautiful of the siblings, ran ahead of her brothers and sisters-
Summer, the strongest but largest, ran behind Spring, but could not catch up to her however
Autumn came next and often called for Winter, and came to soothe Summer of his blisters
Winter- however, walked and did not run. He carried with him coal, which he marked with.
Soon, he would not run at all. He would sit and wait like Abro, and forget to run like Chazan
This is why the Spring is so well loved, yet feels as if it passes too fast and too quickly at times
And why Summer is so hot, yet most of the work must be done under its heat and weather
And why Autumn brings peace, and in its golden banquet bring good food, harvests, and wine
And why Winter and all its snow, darkness, coldness and blight seems to drag on forever
And yet in Winter, the only well that does not freeze over is the well that draws forth black ink
And so the myth of seasons finds its Author in the hands of the cold. Behold- the Song of Winter
Jul 9, 2021
Jul 9, 2021 at 3:50 AM UTC
In the hearth of all and none,
there stood two-
Who were as one
In the hearth of all and none
There stood two-
who too, where none
Both, like eyes, to a thought not yet thought
The two stood there and were-
And yet at the same time- were not
But one awoke, and in awaking bore thought
And from then on the thought of not,
Was there, and forevermore, all but naught
The other, angered by the thought
Stood and and found his brother awake
And from there the birth of twins
Of blindness and seeing, of knowing and sleeping
He was thought, life, existence and being
He was not, death, nonexistence, nonbeing
And the awoken named himself Palcion, meaning infinite
And from there he ran across the none and brought being
From here to there, he brought what, whos, hows, and wheres
And he named his brother Retisbon, which pertained to limit
And he followed his brother- picking up the things he made and left
All his whats, whos, hows, and wheres- stripping them of being
And then Palcion grew tired, and went to sleep on his brother’s lap,
Retisbon, still awake, guarded his brother in his slumber-
And in his slumber, he stripped all his creations of being
Upon Palcion awakening, Retisbon then grew tired, falling too on his lap
Palcion, then awake, guarded his brother in his slumber-
And in his slumber, he thought to continue to make and make
Retisbon awoke, across his brother now, who then was busy making-
In front of Palcion, all he made, which Retisbon thought of breaking-
He made, he broke- he gave being, and he stripped them of it-
And so the myth of Palcion the Infinite, and Retisbon of the Limits-
Being made into all, and all soon stripped of being- the first of all natures
And from this came time,
And from that came worlds,
And from there all that will ever be in it.
Jul 8, 2021
Jul 8, 2021 at 11:25 PM UTC
Gravel mounds in the mist
Are the mountain ranges of fantasy,
Spring green, eerie seen
Through commuter train windows.
Pitched roofs recede
Into infinite distance,
And junkyard parking lots are legion
In the gray suburban obscurity.
Factories and landfills loom,
Monuments and mausoleums,
The labor and the leavings
Of the little colossi.
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 9:50 AM UTC
II.
To love pales in comparison of being loved,
but to love and be loved in turn?
Truly puissant, indeed.
III.
Though on the thread of life, the ink will spill
but never fades away. Now I see. If all I am
is to be nothing but a memory, the least
I can do is to make it a good one for the
future seeds.
Memory can slip and slide, but these words,
my words, that I have painted will remain.
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 4:43 PM UTC
I ask you to mother me greatly, memory.
I ask you to father me strongly, experience.
I ask to strengthen me gradually, time.
I ask you to hone and refine me, wisdom.
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 11:55 AM UTC
A tooth! my first!
exclaimed the small boy
Eyes filled with tears
of pure simple joy
He ran to his mom
clutching it tight
and burst in the room
squealing with delight.
Many questions he asked
one after another
about the tooth fairy
perplexing his mother
She listened intently
with him on her knee
"write them all down
for the fairy to see"
The boy set to his task
with paper and pen
and slowly wondered
where to begin
"Where are you from?"
"What do you do with the tooth?"
"How do you fly?"
Please tell me the truth
With the letter all done
he placed it under his pillow
then slid into bed
just like a minnow
He fell fast asleep
dreaming his dreams
and awoke the next morning
with a jubilant scream
A reply he did find
under his head
He opened it fast
to see what it said
"A time long ago
there was a boy just like you
who saved us from tragedy
when humans were new"
"Great battles were fought
with creatures of all kind
and magic was something
quite easy to find"
"But humans grew old
and got very greedy
then corrupted themselves
into something quite needy"
"Power corrupts
unless you're quite wise
We could all see the signs
no more light in their eyes"
"They tricked us quite often
and hunted us down
stealing our magic
for their own crowns"
Centaurs and Fairies
Dragons and Elves
Among many others
started saving themselves"
"We learned how to hide
here in plain sight
by changing our vibration
so as not to fight"
"Then a spark in the dark
flashed bright and true
and we knew in that instance
just what to do"
"A child was born
innocent and pure
with him knowing
He was our savior"
"A secret he hid
within his own tooth
a secret of magic
the heart has in youth"
"Magic that courses
through children like you
who understand love
in all of it's hue's"
"The teeth we collect
and crush into powder
to Help us retain
our magical power"
"For magic is something
that comes from within
of pureness and love
but not evil or sin"
"A warning there is
and hear it you must
If you force a tooth out
it will turn to rust"
"Powder from teeth
forced out before ready
corrupt the pure magic
making it unsteady"
"This kind of magic
creates creatures not nice
Like goblins and trolls
so always think twice"
"Now let me be clear
about all that I've said
Feel with your heart
and not with your head"
"Face and embrace
The beauty of you
Believe in the magic
and let it accrue"
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 11:37 AM UTC
shimmering face
dewy eyes
trembling lips
shivering thighs
toeing the edge;
the poverty line
devotion or obsession?
i need a sign
thrilling fall
death’s chase
spectating
his heart’s haste
rush to the drop
i go in your place
twin pools of red
a championless race
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 5:57 PM UTC
The archaic Mythologies
Were well depicted ventures of Human
Spirit to verily present acts of the absolute Nutness
An astute of a compelling question Still
Much relevant in today's lmplicit
Deconstruction of Committing
A moral Excession.
Old Greeks came to a betwixt paradox when compairing
the two ulterior motives:
~ a completely mad passionate love
~ a sharp cold blooded oportunistic love
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 4:07 PM UTC
I know there was One,
but, then:
Two.
I was told
Three,
but, I'd venture to guess Four.
Or, maybe, Five.
But, I don't know, man.
I can't quite tell.
How many would you say?
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 3:10 AM UTC