I was born of evil
Born in a cauldron of hate
Suckled on mistrust
My hunger so great,
Satiated in lust
Loins afire
Turning colour to dust
Turn cold the artists’ desire
Lay the canvas bare
Raped and torn
Break brushes and palettes
Leave them broken and forlorn
I am the destroyer
I am that which you dread
In your life, in your love,
In the dreams in your head
Embrace me now
It was never your calling
I have shown you the way
Its beauty enthralling
Will you love me now
And renew your vow
I have taken it all
And yet you question “how”
It was you that sacrificed it
As on a pagan alter
It was you that saw excellence
It was you that faltered
I was the instrument
But you were the crime
Your self loathing
Disgusting and sublime
Will you love me now
Only this I ask
I have always loved you
Does that sound sad, forlorn and crass?
Return to your art
Its beauty enrapture
Its gaunt still life
Forever captured
Forgive my insolence, my unknowing eye
Absolution, your tender heart
The expanse of your love
The expanse of your art
Born to hurt, it pains me
Your colours must live
I block your creativity
Idle your art, without reprieve;
Till at last
You push past me.
Take up the brush,
At last you see
Tho an anarchist I am,
I do so affectionately.
I originally wrote this piece with the concept of artists block. As writers have writers block; then so must artists from time to time. The greatest anarchist we face daily is our own minds that control our creativity. But generally, I have found that after the drought, come the floods. Ergo, the anarchist becomes the giver. My submission for The Inferno.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Lucky Charm
He came to with a sputter. The memory of the preceding moments rushed back as his heart beat wildly; blood gushing from the gaping wound to his head. Having avoided running over the raccoon, he now found himself lying sideways in a ditch on a godforsaken country road. He slowly reached out to the St Christopher medal, now hanging to the side of his rear view mirror.
“Please God, don’t let me die.”
“Do you really believe that will help?”
His eyes widened in fear at the sound of a voice in the car with him.
“Who’s there? Who are you?”
“I am known by many names. But it’s enough that I know yours and your situation. Are you afraid? Does holding that medallion and praying to your God help?”
Through blood blurred eyes he strained to see the face of the voice that taunted him from the back. He reeled in shock at the sight!
“Oh, do stop staring. It’s rude! You know perfectly well who I am. Did you believe that I would appear with horns and carrying a pitchfork? And you believe that angels have wings and play harps, right? I know all about angels. I am one myself. But then, you must have known that. Would you like me to remove all your pain? I can if you wish. But then, I think you would accept nothing from me. You clutch that medallion and believe in metal and forgotten saints.”
His mind reeled. This must be some sort of hallucination from the head injury.
“Of course it’s not an hallucination! Don’t think such silly thoughts. I simply enjoy dropping in at opportune moments to see how little mankind has progressed. I really have no idea why God spared you at all. You are small and insignificant. Oh well, I suppose that he enjoys the praise. Quite vain; don’t you think?”
He watched as a smile filled the face of absolute evil.
“Nothing to say then? Oh very well. To be honest, you are rather boring. There is a young famer and his wife approaching. They will find you and take you to the hospital where you will be mended. But remember this it had nothing to do with that silly medallion you hold so tightly in your hand! God did not answer your prayers! It is simply fate that you face now. Lucky charms do not exist! If they did, I would not exist! And I do, don’t I…………”
“Please God, don’t let me die.”
“Do you really believe that will help?”
His eyes widened in fear at the sound of a voice in the car with him.
“Who’s there? Who are you?”
“I am known by many names. But it’s enough that I know yours and your situation. Are you afraid? Does holding that medallion and praying to your God help?”
Through blood blurred eyes he strained to see the face of the voice that taunted him from the back. He reeled in shock at the sight!
“Oh, do stop staring. It’s rude! You know perfectly well who I am. Did you believe that I would appear with horns and carrying a pitchfork? And you believe that angels have wings and play harps, right? I know all about angels. I am one myself. But then, you must have known that. Would you like me to remove all your pain? I can if you wish. But then, I think you would accept nothing from me. You clutch that medallion and believe in metal and forgotten saints.”
His mind reeled. This must be some sort of hallucination from the head injury.
“Of course it’s not an hallucination! Don’t think such silly thoughts. I simply enjoy dropping in at opportune moments to see how little mankind has progressed. I really have no idea why God spared you at all. You are small and insignificant. Oh well, I suppose that he enjoys the praise. Quite vain; don’t you think?”
He watched as a smile filled the face of absolute evil.
“Nothing to say then? Oh very well. To be honest, you are rather boring. There is a young famer and his wife approaching. They will find you and take you to the hospital where you will be mended. But remember this it had nothing to do with that silly medallion you hold so tightly in your hand! God did not answer your prayers! It is simply fate that you face now. Lucky charms do not exist! If they did, I would not exist! And I do, don’t I…………”
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Soy Milk and Flax Seed
This is my response to a posting on The Inferno about the dangers of using the last of someones soy milk and flax seed. Enjoy !
Oh my God! My head feels like a split melon! I’m afraid to open my eyes. What’s that smell? Oh lord, I think I have shat my pants! With all that Flax seed I consumed though, it’s little wonder. Thank God there are no budgies around, the seed and all that, well, the thought of a budgie pecked arse is way too much to bear just now.
Ok, open one eye, slowly. Uh oh, I recognize those nylons turned down to the knee and that floral print sun dress! Doris! Oh, her face looks like a fart through a barrel of nails. What have I done now? I would fake a smile, but I have neither the strength nor the desire. I think my left eye must be blinded! And, I can still taste vanilla soy milk in my mouth!
I should ask her for help to the bathroom. On second thought, seeing her there with the frying pan in one hand and the empty carton of Soy milk in the other, maybe it’s best I simply crawl away. I wonder when the sight will return to my left eye?
Ok, made it. Whew, them drawers will have to be burned! Lord, will I ever be normal again? Ok, let’s look into the mirror and assess the damage.
Good Heavens! My left eye is open but I can’t see from it! Wait, whew, I am starting to see shadows. Hey, what’s that? A tattoo? On my forehead? Huh? LAF-T ? What the hell??? How am I going to explain this down at the Legion hall?
Ok, I’ll shower and change and swallow a dozen Tylenol Extra Strength and take Doris out to breakfast. Let’s hope the sight returns to my left eye soon. Does this make me bi-polar sighted or something? I will fire off an e-mail to Oprah.
Oh my God! My head feels like a split melon! I’m afraid to open my eyes. What’s that smell? Oh lord, I think I have shat my pants! With all that Flax seed I consumed though, it’s little wonder. Thank God there are no budgies around, the seed and all that, well, the thought of a budgie pecked arse is way too much to bear just now.
Ok, open one eye, slowly. Uh oh, I recognize those nylons turned down to the knee and that floral print sun dress! Doris! Oh, her face looks like a fart through a barrel of nails. What have I done now? I would fake a smile, but I have neither the strength nor the desire. I think my left eye must be blinded! And, I can still taste vanilla soy milk in my mouth!
I should ask her for help to the bathroom. On second thought, seeing her there with the frying pan in one hand and the empty carton of Soy milk in the other, maybe it’s best I simply crawl away. I wonder when the sight will return to my left eye?
Ok, made it. Whew, them drawers will have to be burned! Lord, will I ever be normal again? Ok, let’s look into the mirror and assess the damage.
Good Heavens! My left eye is open but I can’t see from it! Wait, whew, I am starting to see shadows. Hey, what’s that? A tattoo? On my forehead? Huh? LAF-T ? What the hell??? How am I going to explain this down at the Legion hall?
Ok, I’ll shower and change and swallow a dozen Tylenol Extra Strength and take Doris out to breakfast. Let’s hope the sight returns to my left eye soon. Does this make me bi-polar sighted or something? I will fire off an e-mail to Oprah.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
A Blistering Kiss
The moon and stars
Mean nothing to me.
They are, but a sailors beacon.
Wayward romantics,
And self righteous poets,
Wither in ostentatious reason.
Love is hot,
It scalds the soul.
No balm to soothe the bliss.
Sweat drenched sheets,
Loves burning coals,
A kiss that blisters the lips.
I have kissed the sun
Caressed her heat,
Smelled her heady scent.
Be gone, yee bards of night
With prose, calculated and sweet.
Your rhymes borrowed, sad and lent.
Love dwells in the light
Not in the dark,
Waning moons and midnight lust.
Give way to afternoon delights
Naked, and unafraid
Till at last with the coming dusk,
My love retires,
Spent in her love.
One last searing kiss she gives.
Succumbed to her charms,
In awe I see the heavens above,
And curse the night,
Curse that which poets believe.
The moon and stars mean nothing to me…
Mean nothing to me.
They are, but a sailors beacon.
Wayward romantics,
And self righteous poets,
Wither in ostentatious reason.
Love is hot,
It scalds the soul.
No balm to soothe the bliss.
Sweat drenched sheets,
Loves burning coals,
A kiss that blisters the lips.
I have kissed the sun
Caressed her heat,
Smelled her heady scent.
Be gone, yee bards of night
With prose, calculated and sweet.
Your rhymes borrowed, sad and lent.
Love dwells in the light
Not in the dark,
Waning moons and midnight lust.
Give way to afternoon delights
Naked, and unafraid
Till at last with the coming dusk,
My love retires,
Spent in her love.
One last searing kiss she gives.
Succumbed to her charms,
In awe I see the heavens above,
And curse the night,
Curse that which poets believe.
The moon and stars mean nothing to me…
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Embrace The Wind
Deep forest greens
block blue summer skies
and drop us in pearls of dew,
the moon wanes
the sun rides high
morning mists give way to the daylillies sigh
The gardener stands watch
His day, yet to begin
Surveys that, which his hands have wrought,
With scents as seductive
As the original sin
Natures battle, well won, fiercely fought
Soft blow the winds
As azure skies
Split the nights retreat,
Fat fuschias, periwinkles,
Morning glories and moonglows,
Our senses to entreat
Ancient oaks, frilly ferns,
Pretty primroses
All in a row
Daisy chains
And gin scented pines,
In abundance, flourish and grow.
The gardener smiles
His face weathered and worn
Giving proof to efforts untold,
Loving care
Unto natures wrath,
Unto this Eden, he has bartered his soul.
Rotund tomatoes
Fat on the vine
Red, luscious and sweet,
Basil, summer savoury, lemon thyme,
Smells to assail the senses
In the hazy summer heat
In the cool shade
Of the Weeping Willow,
Her tentacles loving embrace,
By a lazy river
In deep cool grass,
As sensual as leather and lace.
Unto all this
The gardeners embrace
Delicious and sublime
Sight, smell, touch, trace,
He caresses the face of The Devine
Embrace…
block blue summer skies
and drop us in pearls of dew,
the moon wanes
the sun rides high
morning mists give way to the daylillies sigh
The gardener stands watch
His day, yet to begin
Surveys that, which his hands have wrought,
With scents as seductive
As the original sin
Natures battle, well won, fiercely fought
Soft blow the winds
As azure skies
Split the nights retreat,
Fat fuschias, periwinkles,
Morning glories and moonglows,
Our senses to entreat
Ancient oaks, frilly ferns,
Pretty primroses
All in a row
Daisy chains
And gin scented pines,
In abundance, flourish and grow.
The gardener smiles
His face weathered and worn
Giving proof to efforts untold,
Loving care
Unto natures wrath,
Unto this Eden, he has bartered his soul.
Rotund tomatoes
Fat on the vine
Red, luscious and sweet,
Basil, summer savoury, lemon thyme,
Smells to assail the senses
In the hazy summer heat
In the cool shade
Of the Weeping Willow,
Her tentacles loving embrace,
By a lazy river
In deep cool grass,
As sensual as leather and lace.
Unto all this
The gardeners embrace
Delicious and sublime
Sight, smell, touch, trace,
He caresses the face of The Devine
Embrace…
Sunday, June 13, 2010
The Tears of A Fairie
A wee submission for The Inferno's theme of A Midsummers Night's Dream
From that place wherein mortal dreams are born and do sail on the warm midsummer nights’ breezes, a child of the fairie woods weeps. Shards of moonlight slash through the leaves of an ancient and gnarled oak, like daggers of light that shineth down from the pale yellow orb; as to witness this child’s sorrow. Her sobs were so soft and sweet, so as to hush the song of the nightbird. Herein begins my tale. Whilst thou follow me to this ancient place and harken to the words spoken and now written for all time?
“Delphenia, why do I cometh upon you in sorrow? Wilst thou not join the great Fairie Circle and dance with us?”
“Dear Pinus, I have no words to share with thee tonight. Can not the great maker of dreams lift me from this place and carry me off to where my heart wouldst feel no more?”
Pinus crouched low; his tiny features once sparkling and wizened, now tinged with expressions of sadness and perplexion.
“What hath led you to this state of despair dear Delphenia? The Queen of the fairies doth await upon your presence.”
Delphenia turned sharply to Pinus.
“Begone Pinus! I would not have this conversation with thee! Thou art a knave, and the messenger of the Queen! My heart hath been torn from my chest and I am smote by the careless and callous words of Acer! Here I would stay till I breathe no more and become one with Mother Earth!”
Pinus recoiled at the onslaught of words so spoken in anger as to loose his footing and fall backwards.
“My dearest Pinus, art thou safe? Please forgive my anger. I wouldst not lend this sadness upon one such as you.”
Pinus arose. His features lay witness more to his embarrassment of having fallen. Fairie pride runneth deeper than the roots of the tree of life.
“Pray tell Delphenia, as Acer may be likened to a fool that sitteth on a fools throne, what words could he use to wreak this havoc on thine heart?”
“I dare not say Pinus.”
Pinus looked into the eyes of Delphenia as she spoke. She was young, and easily hurt.
“Are we not of the same ilk Delphenia? Wouldst thou now spurn me and turn from my friendship and love? Am I now to return to the Fairie Circle without you by my side? A pain, once shared, becomes half a pain. Thou hast pained me in this place this eve, and will nought but leave to wonder from whence that pain is derived? No Delphenia! Thine sorrow is my sorrow. Speak the words to me so I make take them from your mouth and dash them on the stones of forgiveness.”
“Oh Pinus, unworthy as I am of thine love and friendship, I shall share his words with thee. Acer told me that I had the hair of a tangled bramble bush and a nose like a ripe nettle!”
Delphenia began to sob and wail. Pinus let a small smile fill his face.
“Dear, dear Delphenia. Doth thou not realize the reason for which Acer made those childlike insults? Me thinks that Acer doth hold thee in rather high esteem! And as thou has seen fit to not return his advances, he strikes at the one place that even you cannot protect. Negative attention is attention nonetheless.”
“But dear Pinus, mine heart is no longer mine to protect. For it belongs to another. It is he who must protect it.”
Pinus looked bewildered. Even the wisest of fairies may sometime make a mistake in doing that by which all mortals are bound, not realizing the obvious. And as the realization became obvious on Pinus’ face, Delphenia smiled and moved closer.
The evening air crackled as Delphenia and Pinus embraced and a great dream swirled about them and rose high into the midsummer nights sky, and sailed off to the land of mortals.
I am the keeper of fairie dreams. Therefore, by the power of the Fairie Circle, I now entrust this dream to thee. Pinus and Delphenia dance still, and will always do so, on these warm midsummer nights; creating dreams.
And herein, my tale doth end, but simply in the telling.
From that place wherein mortal dreams are born and do sail on the warm midsummer nights’ breezes, a child of the fairie woods weeps. Shards of moonlight slash through the leaves of an ancient and gnarled oak, like daggers of light that shineth down from the pale yellow orb; as to witness this child’s sorrow. Her sobs were so soft and sweet, so as to hush the song of the nightbird. Herein begins my tale. Whilst thou follow me to this ancient place and harken to the words spoken and now written for all time?
“Delphenia, why do I cometh upon you in sorrow? Wilst thou not join the great Fairie Circle and dance with us?”
“Dear Pinus, I have no words to share with thee tonight. Can not the great maker of dreams lift me from this place and carry me off to where my heart wouldst feel no more?”
Pinus crouched low; his tiny features once sparkling and wizened, now tinged with expressions of sadness and perplexion.
“What hath led you to this state of despair dear Delphenia? The Queen of the fairies doth await upon your presence.”
Delphenia turned sharply to Pinus.
“Begone Pinus! I would not have this conversation with thee! Thou art a knave, and the messenger of the Queen! My heart hath been torn from my chest and I am smote by the careless and callous words of Acer! Here I would stay till I breathe no more and become one with Mother Earth!”
Pinus recoiled at the onslaught of words so spoken in anger as to loose his footing and fall backwards.
“My dearest Pinus, art thou safe? Please forgive my anger. I wouldst not lend this sadness upon one such as you.”
Pinus arose. His features lay witness more to his embarrassment of having fallen. Fairie pride runneth deeper than the roots of the tree of life.
“Pray tell Delphenia, as Acer may be likened to a fool that sitteth on a fools throne, what words could he use to wreak this havoc on thine heart?”
“I dare not say Pinus.”
Pinus looked into the eyes of Delphenia as she spoke. She was young, and easily hurt.
“Are we not of the same ilk Delphenia? Wouldst thou now spurn me and turn from my friendship and love? Am I now to return to the Fairie Circle without you by my side? A pain, once shared, becomes half a pain. Thou hast pained me in this place this eve, and will nought but leave to wonder from whence that pain is derived? No Delphenia! Thine sorrow is my sorrow. Speak the words to me so I make take them from your mouth and dash them on the stones of forgiveness.”
“Oh Pinus, unworthy as I am of thine love and friendship, I shall share his words with thee. Acer told me that I had the hair of a tangled bramble bush and a nose like a ripe nettle!”
Delphenia began to sob and wail. Pinus let a small smile fill his face.
“Dear, dear Delphenia. Doth thou not realize the reason for which Acer made those childlike insults? Me thinks that Acer doth hold thee in rather high esteem! And as thou has seen fit to not return his advances, he strikes at the one place that even you cannot protect. Negative attention is attention nonetheless.”
“But dear Pinus, mine heart is no longer mine to protect. For it belongs to another. It is he who must protect it.”
Pinus looked bewildered. Even the wisest of fairies may sometime make a mistake in doing that by which all mortals are bound, not realizing the obvious. And as the realization became obvious on Pinus’ face, Delphenia smiled and moved closer.
The evening air crackled as Delphenia and Pinus embraced and a great dream swirled about them and rose high into the midsummer nights sky, and sailed off to the land of mortals.
I am the keeper of fairie dreams. Therefore, by the power of the Fairie Circle, I now entrust this dream to thee. Pinus and Delphenia dance still, and will always do so, on these warm midsummer nights; creating dreams.
And herein, my tale doth end, but simply in the telling.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Beauty In The Eye of The Beholder
Lost in her book, the old lady’s appearance in her shop of once loved items became an annoyance. Take what you will and go! Yes, you can have that distraught teddy bear for a pittance! Just take it and be gone! The old lady seemed bedazzled and lost in delicious memories of a time lost in the pages of a school girls’ diary. Clutching the musty mementoes to her bosom, she weaved her way slowly to the cash register. With trembling hands, she counted out the neatly folded bills that would finalize the transaction that would make these treasures hers.
Smiling, she gathered up the change and dropped it in her bag. “It’s a lovely night. I am sorry to have disturbed you. Go back to your book.”
Her smile and the twinkle in her eye left no doubt that there was nothing malicious in her statement, and so, with the closing of the front door, she returned to her novel.
The air was thick with scents. Magnolia, Cypress, Spanish Moss, but none as intoxicating as the deep rich earth that permeated all. It carried on the night winds, soft and sultry. The chorus of bullfrogs echoed through the Louisiana night. These were heady smells.
Charles stared down at the gardens, dark shadows now blanketing the riotous colours that would come with sunrise. As he rose, the moonlight seemed to fill the room with an exquisite glow. Sumptuous, and erotic. Bathed in this golden hue, his body tensed at the sight that lay before him. Muscles taught, his blond hair, wild and untamed, dampened by the perspiration of unbridled wanton desire. His eyes turned to her. To Madelien. Her raven hair, tangled, falling over the pillows. Her soft breathing, lost in some unknown dream. The silk sheet, half draped over her nakedness. One perfect breast, exposed, and the shimmer in the moonlight of sweet summer sweat.
Her beauty was undeniable. His need was without question. His manhood stiffening in the eroticism of the moment, he let forth his tongue, and drew it from the bottom most part of her lower back and languidly worked his way her shoulders. Her soft sigh left no doubt as to his prowess in the ministrations that Charles knew all too well. Her salty taste on his lips was too much to bear. The kiss was savage. Biting lips and burning lust! Turning, and giving in to her own desires, Charles seized her and devoured her as he had with no other woman.
Lying in that four poster bed, the spires reaching out; like a fortress of secret dreams, Charles and Madelien fell; spent; to dream dreams that only lovers may. And all the scents of Cypress and Magnolia and Spanish moss, but most of all, the earth; the deep rich earth of Louisiana, and the chorus of the bullfrogs, as deep sleep fell.
Smiling, she gathered up the change and dropped it in her bag. “It’s a lovely night. I am sorry to have disturbed you. Go back to your book.”
Her smile and the twinkle in her eye left no doubt that there was nothing malicious in her statement, and so, with the closing of the front door, she returned to her novel.
The air was thick with scents. Magnolia, Cypress, Spanish Moss, but none as intoxicating as the deep rich earth that permeated all. It carried on the night winds, soft and sultry. The chorus of bullfrogs echoed through the Louisiana night. These were heady smells.
Charles stared down at the gardens, dark shadows now blanketing the riotous colours that would come with sunrise. As he rose, the moonlight seemed to fill the room with an exquisite glow. Sumptuous, and erotic. Bathed in this golden hue, his body tensed at the sight that lay before him. Muscles taught, his blond hair, wild and untamed, dampened by the perspiration of unbridled wanton desire. His eyes turned to her. To Madelien. Her raven hair, tangled, falling over the pillows. Her soft breathing, lost in some unknown dream. The silk sheet, half draped over her nakedness. One perfect breast, exposed, and the shimmer in the moonlight of sweet summer sweat.
Her beauty was undeniable. His need was without question. His manhood stiffening in the eroticism of the moment, he let forth his tongue, and drew it from the bottom most part of her lower back and languidly worked his way her shoulders. Her soft sigh left no doubt as to his prowess in the ministrations that Charles knew all too well. Her salty taste on his lips was too much to bear. The kiss was savage. Biting lips and burning lust! Turning, and giving in to her own desires, Charles seized her and devoured her as he had with no other woman.
Lying in that four poster bed, the spires reaching out; like a fortress of secret dreams, Charles and Madelien fell; spent; to dream dreams that only lovers may. And all the scents of Cypress and Magnolia and Spanish moss, but most of all, the earth; the deep rich earth of Louisiana, and the chorus of the bullfrogs, as deep sleep fell.
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