Awaiting Burns

Drink my darling pyromaniac,
Satiate your rambunctious thirst,
Then burn…burn me tonight…
Riddles come forth, nay I won’t deny,
Cackles behind the flames,
Where’s your Omega?
Till when do the blasphemies last?
Breathe the smoke my darling pyromaniac,
Char my soul with crimson fire,
Unleash conflagration tonight…
Don’t diminish that crow’s might.
Drink blackened blood pouring from that heart,
And as you return to the light,
Behold the mockery my darling pyromaniac,
My burnt corpse will await for another eternity,
To savor again your insatiable inferno’s plight…

Quoth the Quill

Quoth the tiny quill,
A telltale rogue,
Quoth he an iconoclast scourge
Roving a Rubicon,
Beheld they the scribe-
Draining squalid morass ink,
Their vestal thoughts flout,
A deformed unreality…
On dits pervade of the disparaged me.
But the scribe and the revered rose,
Undead in love’s scarlet,
Alive in its elegy,
Ravage thousand year’s reveries,
Quoth my quill now and rend,
Cohort’s trance inane…
For years, decades, centuries…

The Nocturnal Nymph

In stupor of wasted times,
Filthy ruminations past,
I shudder at the sight…
Eyes when shriek carmine…
Numinous silhouette of a nymph horrified,
Drifting sands turn lead and the footsteps slide,
Sweeps her dress darker than the chasms,
In my dreams truces she with devils,
Psychotic nightmares her fortress,
She howls a familiar name,
Lives off a conspiracy of the dismembered wombs…
…Or hers is a vile masquerade... (?)
Snatched as oceans calm,
Confiscated with my feelings deaf and dumb,
Slithering tears,
Creeping fears,
Scattered through a shattered conscience,
Senses whispers and whisperers thronged,
Seeking her wan lip’s livid curl,
I dream amok,
Suddenly the dark is oblivion,
My eyes wide open in the morn,
They’ll bleed again the coming night…

Paranoia

So long a sojourn,
The night decapitated and old,
I stand still so wrong,
Enshrouded for long,
With the bygone,
Paranoia in disdain or angst,
For grazing scars post Camelot,
Is it still the sorrow?
To ask, to answer,
Unprepared…
Forsook a sacrifice and what they pray,
All in a coma or am I still the slave,
In her dreams or mine…
So long a sojourn,
My road is fading away…

A Wastrel’s Blasphemy

Awaits beyond the clouds,
My ebony spring,
Break down bleak truces furthermore,
Shattered glasses shriek,
Two crimson hands caress nightmares long,
Cut down thy own hands stranger to me,
The wastrel’s blasphemy descry,
In wrath burn in thy cauldron hollow,
Snatch the syllables thou see,
Eternal gloom invite,
And behead with draconian grin.

In rags thy elegy now I sing,
Alongside the deep, the light derided,
End in the ashes my spree,
The lesser mortal is me,
The words I waste not in apology,
Deprive me more? ...But I am empty.
I’ve killed thee tonight,
I can sigh,
Mark me unforgiven,
I’ll embrace beyond the clouds,
My ebony spring.

Rendezvouz with Glory Days

Small steps silent and sober,
Reverting aside the gold-diggers,
Mum of winds they never blow,
Beset by the unforeseen rendezvous
With the glory days…

Stepping stones for the bordello,
Peppy choirs led,
Fostering raven-like truths,
Pebbles of my river blue,
Some memoirs,
Jaded with each step,
And I’m not through
Fate’s hiatus…

Oh I feel so cold,
Through the self-inflicted pain,
I am insane,
And now we meet again,
How to greet,
How to say a “Hi”…
Two empty hands I have tonight,
Oh I am through now
My rendezvous with glory days,
We met again,
But only to say goodbye…