Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Monday, October 08, 2012
Friday, October 05, 2012
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Gates of the 14 Aethyr
Empty,
I walk through fog and shade and rain.
I walk through fog and shade and rain.
A door opens within me, before me,
A space within a space.
I step out of nothing into nothing.
I step through and into myself.
I am the gate through which I pass.
All doors swing open,
a vast passage up down to the bottom top
of every no thing.
The sacred hole in the great hedge,
the womb throat of the Universe,
with a great wind singing through it.
Across this vastness,
across this great wallless infinite,
I convey the burden of space.
A space within a space.
I step out of nothing into nothing.
I step through and into myself.
I am the gate through which I pass.
All doors swing open,
a vast passage up down to the bottom top
of every no thing.
The sacred hole in the great hedge,
the womb throat of the Universe,
with a great wind singing through it.
Across this vastness,
across this great wallless infinite,
I convey the burden of space.
Recommended Listening:
{created in Photoshop}
Labels:
2011,
Abstract,
Abyss,
Binah,
Creepy,
Dark,
Dark Arts,
Digital,
Entity,
Environment,
Illustration,
Magick,
Poetry,
Qabalah
Thursday, October 27, 2011
From the Sketchbook Archives: Night Thing
Silently, across the sea of night,
a sound like wind in the leaves.
I hold my breath and stand stock still
until it passes.
The chill of its presence
makes my breath a faint cloud.
I rush to the safety and warmth of interior light
and check all the bolts on my locks.
Outside, the tree limbs creak
at the touch of the wind.
"Perhaps," I think,
and light a candle for protection.
a sound like wind in the leaves.
I hold my breath and stand stock still
until it passes.
The chill of its presence
makes my breath a faint cloud.
I rush to the safety and warmth of interior light
and check all the bolts on my locks.
Outside, the tree limbs creak
at the touch of the wind.
"Perhaps," I think,
and light a candle for protection.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
The Throne of the Mind
It gazes within and it gazes without,
It opens and swallows itself.
At the bottom of the ocean, at the bottom of the sea,
The nested flesh gestates.
Intelligence serves it,
Ignorance serves it,War serves it,
Peace serves it,
Our every action
is the thumping tread of its gargantuan footsteps.
We are it mouths.
We are its eyes.
We are its thoughts.
Drum beats, heart beats,
blood pumps the light beneath skin and hair and sweat.
The dream of a thousand million years.
Knowledge is giving birth to itself.
Recommended Listening:
Cryogenic Dreams
Kinetik
{Digital images manipulated in Photoshop}
Saturday, October 22, 2011
The Totem
it calls out from the time before time.
It breathes a rhythm, a heartbeat,
an urging towards release,
and it will be born.
and it will be born.
and it will be born.
Like lightning,
it strikes backwards towards its desire.
recommended listening:
Sephiroth
Call of the Serpent
Draconian Poetry
{Digital images manipulated in Photoshop}
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Reading from the Book of Night
In the twilight of the underworld,
The sun within waxes and wanes.
Days stacked like logs in the wood pile
kindle and burn on the mount of knowing.
Harlequin wall totem reads from the great book.
The mother day sprays light to inoculate the reading
and fertilize the thoughts for growth.
Father predator spits darkness into her.
A deception that by her nature she converts into light.
His light within reads the necessity and
sees the voice and light needed for the reading.
Between them all, a darkness gestates
the darkness of absence, of emptiness,
of the void.
A darkness through which all things pass
to reach the light of the coming day.
In the desert of ignorance,
the scarab rolls its children into a sphere of darkness
tucking them safely into that fecund enclosure
knowing that at their birth,
they will eat their way to the light.
Recommended LIstening:
Subheim
Hollow
Approach
{Digital images manipulated in Photoshop}
The sun within waxes and wanes.
Days stacked like logs in the wood pile
kindle and burn on the mount of knowing.
Harlequin wall totem reads from the great book.
The mother day sprays light to inoculate the reading
and fertilize the thoughts for growth.
Father predator spits darkness into her.
A deception that by her nature she converts into light.
His light within reads the necessity and
sees the voice and light needed for the reading.
Between them all, a darkness gestates
the darkness of absence, of emptiness,
of the void.
A darkness through which all things pass
to reach the light of the coming day.
In the desert of ignorance,
the scarab rolls its children into a sphere of darkness
tucking them safely into that fecund enclosure
knowing that at their birth,
they will eat their way to the light.
Recommended LIstening:
Subheim
Hollow
Approach
{Digital images manipulated in Photoshop}
Thursday, September 29, 2011
General Marrow, Lord of Bones
Within the dream of the abattoir,
beneath hair and toenail and skin,
he digs beneath our fat and past the organs.
His business is with the bone core.
He is the lightning knight of epiphany,
the unyielding harbinger of revelation,
the barrier breaker of the adamant secret,
and the herald of truth too long denied.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Thursday, September 08, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2005
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