Dark As A Moonless Night

Dark as a moonless night
Yet you radiate light
You whose specter ushered
The reign of fright

Howls betrayed the presence of wolves
And banshees who scour the moors
Menacing hearth and home
Ravaged their prey in ghastly moans

Awake now
Children of darkness
We who mutter faith
Whilst craving death

Suicide

Where streams run deep
The beast slithers
Serpentine and cunning
And death, once a foe,
Turns into a lover
Of many a poet-maudit

I await your coming mon cherie
Free me from wrath's bondage
I an heir to doom's legacy

I Have Bared My Fangs

I have bared my fangs
Unloosed lynxes
Unshackled the beasts
Imprisoned in my soul’s cage
Unleashed fiends
To devour the guardians
Of civility and order

I have wrought havoc
In a crumbling world
Like a raging flame the gods disowned
Searing forests compassion sowed

Ah, the mystery concealed in tombs
Has not a carcass bawled, struggled
Against the gods
They on whose palms
Man’s destiny lay

And Only The Eastern Breeze

And only the eastern breeze
Partakes of these ignoble feasts
Where peasants
Drunk-lout and dishevelled
Found omens in their prince’s gaze
Where erato has soared
To be hewed
Crafted by an artist’s hands
A heretic’s curse
An agnostic’s plea
In the swirling cloud of violence
Reason and seasons rule

We Scaled the Mountains of Youth

We scaled the mountains of youth
While the heavens spilled blood
And the kiss of Judas defiles
Those who swore vengeance

We spanned the ocean of lust
Hearkening to the sound of its moans
As we roared at the absurdity of faith

Now the season of mortal storms
Tremble at our feet

Requiem

Hermes guides me
Toward the river Styx
While the dead swayed
To the beat of drums

I hear the mighty phalanx marching
And war dogs howling
All dressed up for battle

Grief

Let me drown in my own tears
Choke on my own sighs
Collapse under my own weight

Ah, what a drag this life is
Apathy and coldness a mask
For brokenness and scars
To walk halfway believing
That lies are truth, truth lies
Bothered by memories
Of dark days gone by
Or whate’er it was we called
A pale fragment of life
Spent searching and seeking
The truth, the end we so desire.

I Am Baffled

I am baffled
By the sinking leaves
Whose death
Signals my end

She smiled
'Neath a guise
Of self-doubt
I saw the leaves
Fall freely
Grasped
And snatched
By her oh-so elegant
Hands

And we thought
We built walls,
Whilst searching
For shattered hopes
Strewn at the pavement

She sat quietly
Swallowing her dread
And then felt nothing

She glared
Turned her head
Looked away
Staring
At a dimly-lit sky

To The New Adam

It was one of those Fridays when workers
Weary from the week's toil groaned
Let us rest our tired bones
And heal our bruised limbs

It was the day when the mob,
Bloodied and out for blood,
Sought to make you their Christ,
To die at the hands of powers that
They all too often scorn

You will find that the rest
They deem fit to allow
Unlike what some of us had in mind
Will free you from their clutch
And lead you into the arms of him
Who await your coming

I bid you adieu
I send this world’s greetings to your master,
Him who has wrought havoc,
And planted the seeds
Of murder and mayhem
On the souls of such as these
Who befoul God's green earth.

A Single Breath of the Raging Storm

A single breath of the raging storm
And the sickle of a thousand eves sparkle
As the creatures of the creek danced
To the sound of the plume and scroll



Let the laughter of reptiles echo
Hear the choral swaying of twigs
Amid the raging chorus of crickets
Hear the wild grunts of oktoberfest
Devour the feast of all hallow’s eve
And weep for the cruelty of yuletide

I will join the march of whimsy
And tread endless streams of lunacy

Fragments of a Lost Ode

uriel of the forest
warrior and prince
healer, poet and priest
shaman, yogi, warlock
lover, romeo, byron

child of the moon
purveyor of hope
in a world gone awry
from faithless resolve

Meanderings

an age bereft of reason
an era of dismayed prophets
of seers who have not foreseen
the brooding doom ennui entails;
we are ghosts,
enmeshed in Spiritus Mundi,
the Order,
cogs now in the scheme
of a dead deity;

rebellion has lost its luster,
revolution, its sting,
inanity, nay,
even tedium triumphed;



our forbears hath burdened
our age’s soul
with nightmares:
what hath this life come to,
whilst losing each shred,
each sinew,
of innocence?
a tired old wheel
spinning, spinning,
and each breath,
each death, forever
losing its meaning.

Millennial Musing

Ah, shake the evil dancer
Even now as she slumbers
Dreaming dreams of labyrinths
Minotaurs of yore
Of kings-cum-jesters
And knights prowling for flesh
And the lures of the night
Heroes hanged and villains praised
Evil triumphant perfidy regained
Mammon’s empire with heads for wall
And towers of bone armed with stones
An age of madness about to close
And the advent of paranoia among the throng


Ah, shake now the evil dancer,
Let her dream no more,
Stab her until life
Flows out of this heathen gnome.

On Robert Hass’s Final Article

I never realized that your valedictory
Was a foreboding of sorts.
Why read you now, now that the waiting is over
And judgment has been rendered,
And sentence meted to a life
Of forever clinging to the unclingable,
Of the never-ending days waking up
And dragging myself to a dreary end
Of unending chatter from morn till dusk?

Try to give yourself more time, you say, to create;
What a fortunate bastard you must be,
WhileI, in my desperation, contemplate a future
Of uncreating, inertia, ennui,
Doing the same things over and over,
A clown and creature incomplete, broken
Into minute pieces of guffaws and nothingness,
A hole in the scheme of god’s righteous world.

A Hangman’s Noose

A hangman’s noose Unloosed the vastness of your soul – Of lust and laughter we would, In depravity, have pulled off, Lest we be mistaken heartless, Deaf to the yearning that throbs beneath, There where shadows groan And a stiffened mass rams down Walls upon walls of illusions

I feel an aching need To resurrect a ghost of ages past, Possess that which was buried In the bosom of your raging jungle: Pining for passions known Whilst a subject of someone else’s throne.