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A Letter: Silent Till the End
12:11 Sep 29 2011
Times Read: 408




My Inamorato,



The dawn brings anew the things that were forgotten in the creeping eve of yester. The eve that held us together under the expanding sky as the stars watched over us. The air still enough to envelop us, mending our bodies as one. Even though there was not even an inch between us, I still continued to pine for you. That constant ache of yearning to be not only close to you, and not even next to you, for that is simply not enough.

Though you do know what would be more than enough and yet as possible as that can be, it is something you expressed you were not able to do.



This of course made me question, though within the embrace of the yestereve, I could not demand it of you. For you know that is not within my nature.

Time and time again you have told me things of lore and legend, equally alluring and fearful things. Still, within all those times with baited breath, waiting for your next word to fall from your lips: I waited to speak. I waited patiently to tell you. Yet, there were no words to fall from trembling lips.



I gave you silence in return, whilst constantly having images flip through my mind of possible ways, possible fixes to the tragedy. Yet, it was the silence that I could only offer.



You were kind in receiving that silence. Closing your eyes as you inhaled long and deeply, tracing your power finger along my jaw and nodding, as if you understood without me having to say anything at all.



We continued to watch the stars dance as we laid within the cradle of the Night. I so desperately wanted to speak, urgently wanted to tell you; however, I held no power of my Will. I was prevented. Imprisoned as you were then.



The moments of memory inscribed with every touch, invoking thoughts into my mind. The memory of you tucking a strand of hair over my ear. The curve of your finger along my ear, as you whispered, 'I will find you, as I have in this Life.'

The sound of the clink and clank of your shackled wrist.



Again, I wanted to speak, wanted to propose a plan that would allow us to continue to be. Yet, again it was the silence that prevented me from all words of expression. Speechless was I.



Time was growing older as indicated by the peeping dawning horizon. It was then that I refused to leave, for I wanted to watch you till the very last moment.



You wanted me to go, to remember you as you were, not what you were going to become.



The dawn started to break. Your body started to twitch. Anger rushed over your face as you commanded my leave.

I placed my knees to the ground, readying myself for that which was about to be witnessed. You twisted and jolted yet the shackles kept firm of their hold over you.



'Leave now!' You screamed. Yet, I remained my position, looking at you with wet eyes. Still, I was not able to speak.



As the dawn broke and raced across the sky, letting the dawning rays of the Sun expand and tease closer to where you were held prisoner. We both knew that Time had come.

I continued to stay with you until the end as I hoped you would change your mind and invite for me to join you.



I continued to stay, even as the Sun's rays filtered over your convulsing body. The sight of watching parts of your body turn to char and crumbled bone working up your body with each expansion of sunlight.



A moment before the sun took over your face, you turned to me with an incredible strength even though your body continued to resist. Your words softly toned, it was then you told me: 'Thank you.'



Once you were gone, it was as if something allowed my Will to be free once more. My mind was rushing into corners, trying to gather the thoughts and insights from before.

As if your passing unlocked me. Or perhaps that was your parting gift.



'You were very welcomed.' was all I managed to say aloud once a forgiving cloud gave me shade.





Now only in dreams am I able to revisit that Time. A most haunting and paralyzing time, yet it is within the depth of my core to endure such pain, if only it means it is the only way to remember you.



I will endure.



Everlasting love,

Your Paramour.

PRIVATE ENTRY
01:46 Sep 29 2011
Times Read: 416


• • • • PRIVATE JOURNAL ENTRY • • • •

PRIVATE ENTRY
01:43 Sep 29 2011
Times Read: 418


• • • • PRIVATE JOURNAL ENTRY • • • •

PBS and how he has 'the point'
16:06 Sep 27 2011
Times Read: 423

....Detailed meanings in the simplest of words. Shelley did understand 'the point'.





True Love in this differs from gold and clay,

That to divide is not to take away.

Love is like understanding, that grows bright,

Gazing on many trusth; 'tis like thy light,

Imagination! which from earth and sky,

And from the depths of human phantasy,

As from a thousand prisms and mirros, fills

The Universe with glorious beams, and kills

Error, the worm, with many a sun-like arrow

Of its reverberated lightening. Narrow

The Heart that loves, the brain that contemplates,

The Life that wears, the spirit that creates

One obeject, and one form, and builds thereby

A sepulchre for its eternity.



Mind from its object differs most in this:

Evil from good; misery from happiness;

The baser from the nobler; the impure

And frail, from what is clear and must endure.

If you divide suffering and dross, you may

Diminish till it is consumed away;

If you divide pleasure and love and thought,

Each part exceeds the whole; and we know not

How much, while any yet remains unshared,

Of pleasure may be gained, of sorrow speared:

This truth is that deep well, whence sages draw

The unenvied light of hope; the eternal law

By which those live, to whom this world of life

Is as a garden ravaged, and whose strife

Tills for the promise of a later birth

The wildness of this Elysian earth.



--Percy Bysshe Shelly. Epipsychidion. Li.160-189.

Drinking Alone in the Moonlight - Li Po (701 - 762).
16:03 Sep 27 2011
Times Read: 426

Number one





Beneath the blossoms with a pot of wine,



No friends at hand, so I poured alone;



I raised my cup to invite the moon,



Turned to my shadow, and we became three.



Now the moon had never learned about drinking,



And my shadow had merely followed my form,



But I quickly made friends with the moon and my shadow;



To find pleasure in life, make the most of the spring.



Whenever I sang, the moon swayed with me;



Whenever I danced, my shadow went wild.



Drinking, we shared our enjoyment together;



Drunk, then each went off on his own.



But forever agreed on dispassionate revels,



We promised to meet in the far Milky Way.





Number Two





Now, if Heaven didn’t love wine,



There wouldn’t be a Wine Star in Heaven.



And if Earth didn’t love wine,



Earth shouldn’t have the town of Wine Spring.



But since Heaven and Earth love wine,



Loving wine is no crime with Heaven.



The light, I hear, is like a sage;



The heavy, they say, is called the worthy.



If I have drunk with the sage and worthy,



What need have I to search for immortals?



Three cups and I’ve mastered the Way;



A jarful and I am at one with Nature.



A man can get hold of the spirit of drinking,



But no point explaining to those who abstain.

I am Constantly Wounded: Peter Abelard (d. 1142)
15:56 Sep 27 2011
Times Read: 427




I am constantly wounded



By the deadly gossip that adds



Insult to injury, that



Punishes me mercilessly



With the news of your latest



Scandal in my ears. Wherever



I go the smirking fame of each



Fresh despicable infamy



Has run on ahead of me.



Can’t you learn to be cautious



About your lecheries?



Hide your practices in darkness;



Keep away from raised eyebrows.



If you must murder love, do it



Covertly, with your candied



Prurience and murmured lewdness.









You were never the heroine



Of dirty stories in the days



When love bound us together.



Now those links are broken, desire



Is frozen, and you are free



To indulge every morbid lust,



And filthy jokes about your



Latest amour are the delight



Of every cocktail party.









Your boudoir is a brothel ;



Your salon is a saloon;



Even your sensibilities



And your depraved innocence



Are only special premiums,



Rewards of a shameful commerce.



O the heart breaking memory



Of days like flowers, and your



Eyes that shone like Venus the star



In our brief nights, and the soft bird



Flight of your love about me;



And now your eyes are as bitter



As a rattlesnake’s dead eyes,



And your disdain as malignant.



Those who give off the smell of coin



You warm in bed; I who have



Love to bring am not even



Allowed to speak to you now.



You receive charlatans and fools;



I have only the swindling



Memory of poisoned honey.

WORDS: Back and Forth Over and Over Again
15:35 Sep 27 2011
Times Read: 429

You will always have me.



As you will always have me.



My embrace would not falter if the Gods themselves commanded me;



Concentrate on you; see what happens.



You do everything for a ‘reason’.



Because I enjoy it.



Flustered?



VERY.



Fluster you more…



When you get flustered, I get flustered;







A constant stream.







Delicious Sounds;



Lip biting.



Flavour?







One flavour I utterly ache for.







…Hear me, feel me squirm…



Indeed, it makes me squirm.







I know what I'll be thinking of



I know what I'm thinking of already.







You’re my natural addiction no rehabilitation could ever keep me from.



I love being your 'herb'…







I'll indulge and 'engorge' at your desire.



…whimpers under a bit lip;



Mumbling, ‘oh gods’.







Over and over again.







… Faster,

Tempting, Wanting,Needing,Desire,Crave, Alluring;

You.



Stole the words right from my thoughts.

~93.





(One of my most rather intense pieces and birthed from a rather emotional encounter. Amazing how things seem to follow our spirits no matter which life)

Hymn to Pan
15:24 Sep 27 2011
Times Read: 431

Thrill with lissome lust of the light,

O man! My man!

Come careering out of the night

Of Pan! Io Pan!

Io Pan! Io Pan! Come over the sea

From Sicily and from Arcady!

Roaming as Bacchus, with fauns and pards

And nymphs and satyrs for thy guards,

On a milk-white ass, come over the sea

To me, to me,

Come with Apollo in bridal dress

(Shepherdess and pythoness)

Come with Artemis, silken shod,

And wash they white thigh, beautiful God,

In the moon of the woods, on the marble mount,

The dimpled dawn of the amber fount!

Dip the purple of passionate prayer

In the crimson shrine, the scarlet snare,

The soul that startles in eyes of blue

To watch thy wantonness weeping through

The tangled grove, the gnarled bole

Of the living tree that is spirit and soul

And body and braid - come over the sea,

(Io Pan! Io Pan!)

Devil or god, to me, to me,

My man! My man!

Come with trumpets sounding shrill

Over the hill!

Come with drums low muttering

From the spring!

Come with flute and come with pipe!

Am I not ripe?

I, who wait and writhe and wrestle

With air that hath no boughs to nestle

My body, weary of empty clasp,

Strong as a lion and sharp as an asp-

Come, O Come!

I am numb

with the lonely lust of devildom.

Thrust the sword through the galling fetter,

All-devourer, all-begetter;

Given me the sign of the Open Eye,

And the token erect of thorny thigh,

And the word of madness and mystery,

O Pan! Io Pan!

Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan Pan! Pan,

I am a man:

Do as thou wilt, as a great god can,

O Pan! Io Pan!

Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! I am awake

In the grip of the snake.

The eagle slashes with beak and claw:

The gods withdraw:

The great beasts come, Io Pan! I am borne

To death on the horn

Of the Unicorn.

I am Pan! Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan!

I am thy mate, I am thy man,

Goat of thy flock, I am gold, I am god,

Flesh to thy bone, flower to thy rod.

With hoofs of steel I race on the rocks

Through solstice stubborn to equinox.

And I rave; and I rape and I rip and I rend

Everlasting, world without end,

Mannikin, maiden, maenad, man

In the might of Pan.

Io Pan! Io Pan Pan! Pan! Io Pan!



--Hymn to Pan, Aleister Crowley (One of my favorite poems by him.)

The Life of a Maiden: Captive even in death
02:22 Sep 27 2011
Times Read: 433

The Harvested Maiden







In the closet of flattery, the sheets are soaked.

Soft rumpled cotton, in a heap on the floor

Peeking shades attached to the latched door

Knock, knock…let me out



Shivering seduction locked away between walls;

Soft radiant sheared hair, in a heap on the floor

Prickling skin, constant shaking…can’t take much more.

Desperate pleading goes unheard.



In the brothel of silence, the cages tempt

Steel reflected strobe lights, probing every inch

Prick punched decorations, adorns a metal cinch

Bleeding wrists ache untreated.



In the cauldron of arrogance, the graces tumble;

Slowly escaping murmurs, silenced into humble;

Penetrating metal, stirring a liquid boiling bubble;

Sniffing demonic perfidy, invading underneath.



In the autumn of devotion, the demons hunt;

Seasoned veterans, harvesting moral decay;

Predawn lurking, witnessing writhing displays;

Marking their chosen treat with a lusting glare.



In the black iron pot, the broth screeches;

Summoning the ingredients, salivating over anticipation;

Pinch of mortal fear and a dash of desperation;

Lingering fragrance, enticing anxious tongues.



In the smoke filled brothel, the handmaid's bond;

Saturated clothing torn and hanging from trembling limbs;

Petrified palpitations, beating out every fancied whim;

Desperate twittering for a quick fated death.



In the valley of disorder, the soldiers binge;

Scale covered claws, yanking bonded flesh;

Picking tortured innocence, struggling enmeshed.

Gurgle, gurgle the bubbles yelp.



In the blood splattered cave, the bones are clean.

Sharp jagged edges, having been ripped apart;

Piles of gnawed meat slivers, left of broken hearts.

Satiated sighs bounce with echoes.



~~ Just a piece I composed some time ago, though it's always been one of my best original works. So much detail in the context! Details of which I share with you.

A DIALOGUE by Andrew Marvell (1621 - 1678)
19:20 Sep 26 2011
Times Read: 437

Between the Resolved Soul, and Created Pleasure



Courage my Soul, now learn to wield

The weight of thine immortal Shield

Close on thy Head thy Helmet bright.

Ballance thy Sword against the Fight.

See where an Army, strong as fair,

With silken Banners spreads the air.

Now, if though bee'st that thing Divine,

In this day's Combat let it shine:

And shew that Nature wants an Art

To conquer one resolved Heart.



Pleasure: Welcome the Creations Guest,

Lord of Earth, and Heaven Heir.

Lay aside that Warlike Crest,

And of Nature's banquet share:

Where the Souls of fruits and flow'rs

Stand prepar'd to heighten yours.



Soul: I sup above, and cannot stay

To bait so long upon the way.



Pleasure: On these downy Pillows lye,

Whose soft Plumes will thither fly:

On these Roses strow'd so plain

Lest one Leaf they Side should strain.



Soul: My Genetler Rest is on a Thought,

Conscious of doing what I ought.



Pleasure: If thought bee'st with Perfums pleas'd,

Such as oft the Gods appeas'd,

Though in fragrant Clouds shalt show

Like another God below.



Soul: A Soul that knowes not to presume

Is Heaven's and its own perfume.



Pleasure: Every thing does seem to vie

Which should first attract thine Eye:

But since non deserves that grace,

In this Crystal view thy face.



Soul: When the Creator's skill is priz'd,

The rest is all but Earth disguis'd.



Pleasure: Heark how Musick then prepares

For thy Stay these charming Aires:

Which the posting Winds recall,

And suspsend the Rivers Fall.



Soul: Had I but any time to lose,

On this I would it all dispose.

Cease Tempter. None can chain a mind

Whom this sweet Chordage cannot bind.



Chorus



Earth cannot shew so brace a Sight

As when a single Soul does fence

The Batteries of alluring Sense,

And Heaven views it with delight.

Then persevere: for still new Charges sound:

And if though overcom'st thou shalt be crown'd.



Pleasure: All this fair, and soft, and sweet,

Which scatteringly doth shine,

Shall within one Beauty meet,

And she be only thine.



Soul: If things of Sight such Heavens be,

What Heavens are those we cannot see?



Pleasure: Where so e're thy Foot shall go

The minted Gold shall lie:

Till though purchase all below,

And want new Worlds to buy.



Soul: Wer't not a price who'ld value Gold?

And that's worth nought that can be sold.



Pleasure: Wilt thou all the Glory have

That War or Peace commend?

Half the world shall be thy SLAVE

The other half thy FRIEND.



Soul: What Friends, if to my self untrue?

What Slaves, unless I captive you?



Pleasure: Thou shalt know each hidden Cause:

And see the future Time:

Try what depth the Centre draws:

And then to Heaven climb.



Soul: None thither mounts by the degree

Of Knowledge, but Humility.



Triumph, triumph, victorious Soul:

The World has not one Pleasure more:

The rest does lie beyond the Pole,

And is thine everlasting Store.

What is the Difference?
16:38 Sep 26 2011
Times Read: 439

What is the difference between falling in love with someone, or falling in love with an idea of someone?



What is the difference between falling in love with a habit?



Or is falling in love with someone only falling in love with their habits?



How can one tell the difference between falling in love with an idea, habit or someone's habits?







It's amazing how one thing can make you change your whole outlook on things.



Maybe some things are too deep in which to keep one's head above water.







Because, I'm quickly drowning.