mother medusa


“who are we to judge the validity of reality itself when we depart from it in our sleep?”

A Womb of Derelicts

where black ghosts do play in the deepest of forests
they who are never meant to be
touched by all but the most stalwart of human hands

such is to hold the morbid heart of evil
to play with its fire and sleep in its blood
and give birth from its womb

nevertheless - i am the one to show you this


A Bosom of Thorns

the mountains that be adorned with empty cacti
the rain has since drowned them all

while among the stardust sky
as comets twist and spiral like tadpoles
estranged from their cores locked in absolute abyss
and nothing more

who are we to taint the namesake of heaven?
who am i to pretend of its demise?
i am reality

slumbered beneath twin pulsar lights, softly stonekissed
and dreaming of what should’ve been
- and was -
but never able to fathom why i couldn’t see it
breathe it
much less make-believe it

tailing on the rings of Saturn
the planets spin forever
in a heathen inertia

toward the fate of the universe

she often did notice this
she often took note of how the black eclipsed the white
the new shadowed the old
and so forth

she saw how things died and she knew why
the word ‘life’ had its double meanings

this was her virtue
and i her holy sun
til Lucifer snatched it all away
til he transposed her reality from what it was into what it was not

bite the head of mother’s snake
but two shall grow to take its place

this was my shadow truth
this was my unholy lust
oh mother couldn’t save her son

the world it grew
the earth it bulged
the void that once belonged vacant

she said she loved me
she said that nothing
could come between me and her stomach so steel

this was and is no more
this has-been will never be again

i was, in life, so dear
because my mother told me so
until she left me there to ponder as to why i was alone

serpents are born from snakecharmers
men are born from harlots

children stuck like glue
inured skin between a fading youth
and a forsaken hope

tailing on the rings of Saturn
this is how we spin around
child martyrs, morphed to satyrs
for heathen love at last they’ve found


A Shadow of Exit

behind the sun
i knew as i was dancing in my shadow feet
as aimless as the mind does wonder
they fly like birds, see
how they do wander

what you call romance
is just what you’re left to kiss and chance
nevertheless - i am the one to show you
in the midst of all this

- hellfire and bloodlust
	paradise apocalypse -

this is where Zeus is hiding

this is the fear i am hiding
from myself
but the mastery of destiny is quite forbearing
for a god, is it not?
why does he quail like this in a great time of need
while his angel armies die left and right and side to side?
they die as angels but in a sense they are born back into people
normal and ordinary as are we

thus he is but a coward!

he is such that i am the one
to show them all
i am their Iris
the Tigris to their Euphrates

it is of my valor
my sublimity and subconscience
that i must be
perfectly understanding
of just how fast the world turns
and how long it takes for sunlight to reach this earth
just how much time i’ve left to dally within and waste away

holding your hand and dancing about the fields
in my shadow feet
	so rare for them to be adorned
	with merely pain and little more
	merely plain and cankersored
they lift desire to its highest zenith
its parabolic quintessence
an apocalyptic paradigm

in the midst of all this

- wreckage and torment
	heartache and blasphemous mischief -

i cannot speak for the life of me
of my drift among these currents  (O what a damned purpose i imply!)
writhing and wandering

in lieu of the war in the darkest hour of the earth we die
to join the gods in their struggle to spare
the remainder of eternity
from the devil’s clutches
with proverbial bows-and-arrows among vast cannons
of infinite might
the cupids soar like gnats to Lucifer’s bosom
waiting for the supernovae to blast out his shadow
waiting for the right moment to blink the eyes


A Heart Nevermore

and in that darkness trust that you will find solace
the dreams and promise
the familiarity of mirrors and clear streams
to lead you home
sweet child

oh what i would have done for one frail kiss on my...
	...(but what is left of i that could possibly be my own -
	a thought to see, a reflection to be, a mind to lose or a voice to throw?)

your eyes - so so pretty
wait for me in turn to thrust you into my visions
to reveal my true identity
but you desire what is not to be
for i am merely your Iris
the one to show you...


Last Words

a womb of derelicts
a bosom of thorns
a shadow of exit
a heart nevermore
as comets do twist
and spiral estranged
from cores of abyss
who are we to taint
the namesake of heaven
and thus how may i be
an oracle of its death
i am reality




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