"amenti" poems
Dying with a winking eye
A smile so broad for death to see
Every tooth inside my ancient mouth
Expressing radiant love and empathy
My cheeks will swell with bulging cheer
Well-worn wrinkles form in the corners of grinning lids
A starry twinkle amongst exploding nebula iris
As silken lashes catch the days last wind
A hearty laugh makes a final human sound
The merry breath wheezing in and then forever out
of cavernous lungs
Rattling against homely walls
Kicking down the unlocked door, of which you have a key
The halls of Amenti are calling now
The shrouded veil surrounds the flaming flower
As the final grain spills to sandy bottom
And the thumping of the ticking heart
Stops in life’s twilight hour
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 2:18 PM UTC
Down to the Storehouse of Amenti I rose
Curling a sleeping kitten
Striped grey with a pink nose
I was charged with it’s protection
Through witch’s warm cottages
and priests’ church perches
I met a dark-haired guide
A wanderer lost in the circle
Of a troubled spirit’s tides
Followed he to the escalator
I chose, rising up
Through the forbidden fruits of mankind
Material wealth is perishable goods
And poison to the mind
As the stairs slid into a ramp
A stranger pin-striped with lies
Caught me in his paws and smiled his canines
Scared, I said “I must follow my guide.”
But in this brief encounter
The direction of him I surrendered
And turned about on a lost head and stumped feet
But he was nowhere in sight.
So I chose a new path
Gathering my lace skirts to my knees
And risked my sake on a roll of Fate’s dice.
Followed my soul to the base of another stairwell
This one with wooden roots pecking at my feet
Faired I well and higher I rose
With each new well in between
Four wells I found, one going down,
And landed I next to some people.
I changed the rods to make the cross
Easier to bear for those people.
And next I found where one good deed abounds
Another is sure to follow...
And since I was sure
That my guide would be seething
Sick with waiting for hours,
Directions I sought
From a golden-braided broad
Thick she is with Wisdom-giving.
She said, “Travel to the Fourth Floor
And seek nothing more
Than the Stairwell that takes you to the bottom.”
I passed up a ride on a star ship
Docked, and shaking in its power
Children bubbled with laughter
As I watched it lift off from its tower
I passed up the last gate-
The Stairwell that led to Heaven
Four-stride across and glowing sky-blue
Like the light of the star-flowers found in my garden
It called to me like the tomb.
But too strong was my longing
To return to the beginning
Where my guide would be delayed
So I turned from the staircase
Straight into an elevator
Where a young operator escorted me away
Blasted to the bottom and shown the door
To face life’s routine boredom
To match what was written
In his sour expression
Even as by his side I left the store.
So was this a test by the Lords of the Cycles
To see where my loyalties rest?
Or was this a message
Like what one sees in the mirror
About the illusion of fear?
Feb 28, 2012
Feb 28, 2012 at 12:58 PM UTC
but i,
should have killed 4, 500 of 'em
and it would have made me feel better,
if ya slap me in the face,
ssst
what do u think i would do next,
should have,
if u want to ****
killing you, then **** me
smoke ya blood choke grip,
ssstupid,
mask and i am punchy,
punch me
benefit sexually,
ssssst
mental demise blood-oil eyes of the halls of Amenti,
tiles a'slick'd,
and ethereal,
where have i seen this before,
in a dream, could it be, this inanimate,
what am i to do with,
this man inside the cage,
i am another suicide,
constellation suicide,
lost sensory distortion
struck the key-match,
movin thru spirals,
never angles,
thru spirals, into you
i know you,
i like your style kid,
locked on ur mind linked up jacked in,
thats not me, im not on,
pill for ,
criminal patsy assassins,
dont ask me,
i fake sleep at night.
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 3:15 PM UTC
For a witch’s mercury shall burn in the night of day
November’s Dark Moon and mists paused
fearful of the coming rosicler
The season of witch’s silver spun unto the night
A solitary witch’s laugh tormented the quivering stars above
With each step she dressed in silver sacrament
to his death── to life on this night
The moors echoed of timed rituals of ole
dancing and coveted by white moon satin
as though snow suffered upon a long forgotten desert face
existing blowing through her in another worlds wind
Shadows that once slept in pools of night
now whispered dark velvet promises,
tantalising her marauding lips
~ The Witch’s Silver Sabbath had begun~
The eleventh window pane glinted dew to frost white
in passing her watchful eye as moon silver mist slithered
through ominous black and grey clouds
Samhain drums vibrated upon the barren moors
as veneficium brewed thoughts enchanted nocent
wishes turning her chanting fingers to fire smoked obsidian
~Her eyes turned mercury blue through mirrors of time
A ravens nocturnal flute pulsed the eleventh beat
Ravenous fecundity blistered her mind
Liquid blood and silver anointing dreams from afar,
caressing her arms as vermillion dusts drift
winding her alabaster ankles
Sensually, slowly awakening deaths lustful shudders
Coptic clans of ole worlds whispered ‘Anoka ng ou kem’e nefer’
I am black and beautiful Khem on this nights breath
Ra’s ole demand shimmered like silver
a jewelled athame in her hand his mortal life, penance
Elegant Catafalgques laid to his Mastaba
Cast from Sun to burn as King to appoint all to Amenti
The eleventh window pane cracked as she burned white
her athame turned eleven times to eleven drops of blood
On a bed of fire black roses he rose within her circle
Her chalice of amber solanum’s to brim
bathing her body in rose ****** sensual arms
His sweet violet blackness tasted of Acheron
One with the Kings temple of night on the edge of the moor
Enigmatic creatures together
──Between worlds to rule forever
© ASPAR (A Sol Poet Arnay Rumens) 11/2017
Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 4:44 AM UTC