Lachrymose

The trumpets sounding.,
The winds of abandon, howling…,
The crimson-red skies, crying,
The spirit, calamitously ensuing…
The rivers bloodied, telling.,
The heretical, succumbed to damnation,
The quintessential nature, given to reprobation…
The embracement of darkness, the wonderment aweing,
The churning tolling, felled to fall, gloried…,
The choirs chorusing, “burneth forever.,”
The day of judgment, hath cometh;
The brazen eyes so mystifying,
The harsh light, so piercing.,
Shone: the glorior and wisdom, atoned…
Given to defeatism, consumed by the fires of oblivion…,
Obfuscated by the living flame,
Enwreathed, forlorn to hapless unrest.,
Confess, the overpowering winds within the cold dark of midnight…,
Bliss, resound, unsweepable the force, untouchable…
Redound, undeniable – the mourning mist,
The very hand of God, is found, how profound;

Paradise Lost

The day fast approaching
The time soon usurping
Harrowed, endlessly the dread of day
Fated, the totality of our existence
The time is come!
The day is now!
Coldly forsaken no more to eerie distances,
From whence the weeping came of horizons unseen
Begotten forevermore, to hopeless oblivion
Reprobate: cast from the grace of the burning sun
The light shone, no longer visible
The immeasurable infinity, now faint
The darkening, engulfing in whole
Tomorrow, might not come
Reign. Conquer. Death.
The absolute to all venues and ends
Hail the grave, forsaken to solidarity
With the flickering flame, to the enwreathed flags
Of desolation and forfeiture, dismay and torture
Supplication, waning deeply the regrets
Contemplation, tormenting the mind, dwindling
Uneasy, in unrest and endlessly cycled thought
The words go on forever, nevermore to rest
The agony of fallen grace, anguishing the marrow of spirit
The tumultuous chaos, ensnared and unbound
Contorted on fenceless ground, bewildered haplessly
To depths untraveled, torn the remnants of being
Asunder the weight of a thousand oceans
Crushed by mighty and monolithic force
Heaped unsettlingly, the edict of insipid rage
Dereliction, the grimacing void of emptiness
Confound to unreason, befouled through causal reason
Of the absence of the brightest light of the nethermost star
Forget us not, the children of the dying night
Condemn us as you might, until the wick is enveloped by the light
Risen., rising – from sea to sea: seething in unfettering madness
Reviled, never seen for what we are., the brilliance of the shimmering night
The last flickering, the brilliance repudiated and abstracted
Blindingly, conquering the throne once long ago beset upon
Illuminating, the power unearthed, overwhelming
Tithe, prithe, the absolved grandeur so blissed
Contemptuously, refound to voiceless cries, seeming unheard
Hearest thou, the bellowing belly of earth?
Harken us now, the antithesis of trinity, reversed?
Apotheosis, conferred to looming madness, ruinously
Awash, tears of remorseless envoy, upon’st this glooming
Tirade, beholden, this spectacle most conveyably restrained
Darkness, consume me whole: fires consume this vessel
Transcend the mysteries of godhood; the unveiling of the grandest godhead
The serpent which whispered wisdoms errs old – timelessly relative
To the truer adversary: the tyranny unmasked
The worst revelry…light and grace, once beheld…
Never forget – the darker the concealed truth, the starker the consequence
The otherness of being: the living dualism faceted within all of us
Paradise Lost. Life forlorn. Reprobated now. Forsaken evermore.

End of Cycle

Starker…, How much darker, the consequence?
The purposelessness of life; the meaningless futility – repetition, O’ repetition.
The religious idles made but for one purpose – to give meaning where else,
Meaning would not exist – within the conceptual undertaking of life;
With intention hoped and honed, errs beyond, to make sense of the senseless,
To find meaning within the social construct of the human dilemma.

How sad, in the ending, to contemplate existence…
To know that the world is not over when our beloved pass.,
To see the seemingly cold and cruel world continue, its purposeless cycle,
Of repetition, even after our bodies, and our minds falteringly fail us.

This, the End of Cycle; here, and now – break the cycle.
Be released from the bereaving chains of woe and discordance.,
Of disharmony and desolation, underwhelming, reachless and unbecoming.
The dehumanization of the self – the basicity eaten away, the fibres decayed,
Hitherto…the withering hearts, abased, abound the very febricity of life.

Breathe. Conceive. Incept and be-wept. End the Cycle of cyclic unrest.
Around and around, millennium after millennia., eerily and ruinously,
Life is unending, collectively – but short-lived, and contorted,
Fatefully forfeited., but curious in wonderment, individually…
In the truth of it all, we will be undone – unfound,
Buried and received unto the worms…remembered for a season,
…and ultimately, forgotten; to all, that ceaselessly remains.

How’t harrowing, the tolling bells., languishingly, the telling tale…
Of felling fervour, and disconcerting demeanour; ashes barren,
…and dust brushed away…, by the coldly forlorning winds of abandon.
End the Cycle: forget not, the totality of things learned;
Remember always, the passaged wisdoms, and amassed understandings,
Bestowed and bequeathed upon our essences – quintessentially,
Collectivized; and individualistically, personified.

Enwreathed, the horror of tomorrow’s coming…the terror is real.,
Behold the quaked becoming! For we are awakened, perplexed to actuation…,
To confounded contemplation, and thus waned…to miserious condemnation,
The contemptuous nature of rehearsal; of behaviour ill and befouled.
Concede thee, everlastingly, to the reality of the truth of biological life…
Rebored, see – the purposeless ventures, continuously, the agonising reprisal.,
Forbadem, thus hallowed and shallowed, weepingly seduced,
By the multiplicity of life’s intricacy, of virtue’s simplicity,
…and consciences’ feared to be freed.

Fortuitously, the damning nature of such overlooked imbecility;
For none wish to see how naïveté they once were,
As to be reminded of their swaying by the dark embrasures of concept.
Wearingly, consuming – coinciding, the philosophical contexture of consciousness,
Beseech thee, the darkening truth., no matter how horrible,
Irrespectively, the toiling horror – veer us, farther from,
Or nearer to, deliverance; absolutely.

Solved, the mystery of mind…, befound within the corridors of thoughts unheard,
Of words unspoken, and actions condemned; hearest our collective plea…,
Whatever the matter of your sustenance.,
Whoever the character of your embodiment.,
Return but one word, uttered – borne out; muster, one whisper…,
So softly spoken and carried, by the rapturous winds of oblivion.

Give us a sign, compose us – free us of this longing…
For the longingly dreadsome concept of self is overbearing.,
How’t despairing…retrospectively, recollected – our spiritual spires,
Farewelling, the overture of utmost frailty.
Mystery., beholden – to the glory of the stars unseen, and the depths unreached;
The peaks unclimbed, and the abysmal abounding, trifled, by the whims of time.

The Inexpressibility; The Eternal Struggle

The Inexpressibility; the eternal struggle:
The strugglesome perpetuity, of daily lament, and constant torment
Perplexity, how conflicting the belief in and ov god…,

The truth of it all is – love and hate are melded into one essence, a quintessence of sorrowful overture., but a state of eternalising gloom and dismay…

Understand, the entwining grasp of love and hatred, of hope and loss, of light and dark – struggles so deeply, how intently and infinitely, to simply love and accept god, or to hate and deny him…, the author of pain – for the despairing, how overwhelming, has taken its toll upon the spirit – for the soul is without rest and quietus, for what purpose does a god allow such suffering, inexpressible?  For what reason, to what end…, how could such cruelty be justified…, of all the troubles, and of the heartache of loss?  There is no greater pain, no greater wane – than the conceptual undertaking of the actuality of loss; of losing someone so beloved…


When in such a state of despairing permanence, seeming ineffable and perpetual, what is one to do?  Who is one to turn to?  Is the eve of thought – is the idea of god comforting to you?  Is he the cruellest one, or is the merciful and loving?

Is God the cause and root of all pains, or is he the pathway to ending the waned remembrances, so pained?  Is he the reason for our sorrows, for the taking of our beloveds, of our lost, or is he the rewarder of the faithful, and the keeper of the dead in faith and futility?

What is the godhead; what is the trinity doing, if not neglecting the very creation they incepted…, and for what grand purpose, if not cruel animus, and hopeless irredeemablility?


So, tell me…of what clay are you moulded?  Has darkness consumed you, through its depraved sentiment, and bitter nature, tollingly felling your soul through the errs of life?  Has light never abandoned you, has not the dark swayed and moved you, are you of peace, love and ignorant blindness, to the truth of what is – of life, and beyond mortal understanding, conformed to surpassed inevitability, of antipathy and selfishness? 


The Passion of the Beast, is of the most extraordinary construct; if we do not worship our dead – if not for sorrowed reprisal, and glooming reappraisal of our fallen and lost beloved, then of what use are we, and how definably incapable then – the character of light., where selfishness, antipathy and relinquishment entwine, consumed – by the semblance of the godhead., how holy and glorious, unsoundly, yet…eerily unfulfilling, heart-corrupting, darkening and unloving, unsolving and foretelling, the nature of light, and the essence of the highest; hark, feed the emptiness, but feel the embracing compassion of the beaten, broken and defeated darkness., weighing heavily – but I would rather, weigh heavily in defeatism and sorrowful disdain, but rather exist alone, amid the languishing abyss, of his eternally separating light, longingly conscious and aware of such despairing abasement, to have concept of loss…,

Love and bitterness, to never forget those once lived and loved, than to be abound, happily, healthily and praiseworthy, how vaingloriously, adorning the king of kings, with monumental thorns, for his kindest sacrifice, and all for the selfish endowment of the persona, of the personal lusts, hopes and longings, all whilst forsakenly and purposely forgetting the felled familial, the lost beloveds, and respited immutability, for the sake of continuity and blissfully unaware, and ignorant peace – free from the worries of the former things, reprieved from the recollections of the hurts and wants, of the lost and the damnably forgotten…

Where then, are you, in standing ovation?  Do you curse the creator, God – Adonai, YHVH, Almighty, or do ye praise him as though absolute and worthy?

I fell in love with the idea, but the conceptual framework and grasping of the all-encompassing, all-loving father, God.  Until personified, and understood, characteristically, the embodiment of his truer nature – the callousness, carelessness and unequalled unfair fating, of his utmost and truest nature…, now, endarkened and emblazoned, but refound and borne once more of fires so darkly, I accept the reprobated state, of my fallen, and said sinful nature, if such accounts for my compassion, and unforgiving stature…, as I will never forget the sufferings of the past, the grimness of the former things, of my belovedly lost., nor shall I forgive He, of the highest Principality, for allowing such tragedy to reign, strikingly – knowing well the pained staining, of hearts turned black and cold, against the god whom was not there…

Why, O’ Highest One, why – hast thou forsaken, even though pleadingly – the fleeting of mine essence and soul?  Why beget thee, forgetfully and forlornly uncaringly, your attest, so hauntingly foreboding in whole?  Why, Holy One, have ye not received my beloved, or pardoned them, on account through me? 


I love, and hate you, Lord Almighty; I revile and despise, adore and curse your very name…, passionately, and sincerely – awaiting your predestined fating, for my individuated person; foreverly…, reaching for you, yet…fearing, but abhorring the thought of you, and your twined embracement…, which way shall I go?  Left, or Right…, to walk the path of loneliness, or venture fatefully, as a fading and ghastly ghost – upon your narrow path…, never knowing, having only but uncertainty, to act as my torchbearer, personably, the shadowing of my footsteps, my waked remembrance, of known existence, forfeited to everlastingly, to exile and wonderment, within the corridors of the confined self, begotten only, to the remnant past…

The Ceaselessness Ov Futility

Ο πραγματικός εχθρός

Is Satan the enemy, the grandest adversary?  Or could man be the epitome of wickedness, of cruelty and depravity? Is it fair, that the Devil was predestined to failure, to clandestine forfeiture? Perhaps, I follow a different doctrine…, maybe, I have a longing compassion for the antithesis of light, that far surpasses the loving embodiment, of which most cannot comprehend. 
As has been said time and time again, I am conflicted within myself; I have a profound longing and impassion for darkness – for the understanding of the unknowable., to feel as the Devil does, and to know as the Christ does.  To know the inner-workings of the godhead, and to feel so deeply, the scarred pains of the enemy – Lucifer.

Does that make me a monster?  Am I doomed to hellfire and ceaselessness, but to utmost and whole futility, because I have as they say… “sympathy for the devil?”  Am I of Satan?  Am I reprobate?  Am I of absolute perdition?  Am I guilty of sedition?  Am I heresy, enthroned?  Am I fallen – from the highest throne?
Felled, but rebored to defeat and damnation – for simply having conscience and awareness of more than the selfish centred self…, I worship not, two masters; for my Lord is Adonai.  I do, however, feel passionately, so much – love, maybe more for the Devil, than I do our creator, the father YHVH.  Am I sick?  Am I wrong? Is love a faceted construct of hatred, or is such disdained animosity formed from grace?  I fear the loathsome concept of oblivion, of absence befouled, in totality.  I dread the idea of nothingness – of being undone, forgotten and uncreated. 

To sympathise for the enemy – the desolate one; the doomed fallen and felled, is such so incomprehensibly wrong?  Am I blasphemy, moulded and reborn?  Am I evil, so lustful and reviled?  If not slaves, what are we to god?  To either aspect, neither darkness or light, are we equals…, heralded, we are but created parasites, used as instruments for egotistical worship and exhortation; exaltation and adoration. 

Why do we exist?  For the purposeless experiences of our lives?  For the surmised instrumental use by the puppet-master, we call our father?  What glory is there in submission, and what joy is there in defeat?  For existence, irrespective of state or grace, is at best – tumultuous., and at worst…meaningless.  It is better to live, consciously, aware – and sorrowed, despairingly humble, proud or abased, than to feel nothing in inexistence, forbadem the void of cold nothingness.  Harken., hearest thou my cries?  Agonising, the reprise!  I am undone., I am reborn of fire and water – in spirit and twilight.  I am enlightened beyond the immeasurable; beyond the petty scope of humankind… 
I am conflicted within myself., I am distraught and contemptuously dismayed by mine thoughts, so inglorious and insignificant; the contemplation of these yearnings so fated by the highest, the conceptual undertakings of the fires so consuming, of dark and light, entwined…, behold – I am bringer of twilight.  I am unveiled, to ye., our heavenly godhead, the bornless adorner…our father, the dualistic paradigm of times’ endless, and errs infinite…the incomprehensible!  The ineffably perpetual!  The ever-living and all-knowing singularity; twined thrice., to become the epitome of pillared confess, concept and construct – of painted skies blooding and brooding, forevermore furthering, higher and higher…, beyond the abounds of understanding, how trembled and perplexing; ye, the dualism.  The Duality of Persona! 
The Two-faced star of infiniteless shone so far.

Unendingly, foreverly, our adorations., and our greatest worshipped appraisals and affirmations…yours is the glory, untestable, the power – incontestable.  For we write, and we awe rapturously, everly – in your namesake., for your glorious state – graced and disanoint; fearfully kneeled before, and wrathfully unspoken…hearest our harkening pleadings., Abba., highest one – Christos; let us confess in thee, our inadequacy and iniquity!  Of Revelry, and Rivalry!

The Intricacy of Intimacy

Don’t let me go…
Don’t leave me…
Don’t bid thee farewelling.,
Abandon me not, to the darkless abyss;
The sorrow so imprudent;
The waning struggle, inexorable.,
The longing, insufferable…,
The tormenting actuality, inescapable.
The great agony, so overwhelming, to bear witness to the antiquity of age, of timelessness and forfeiture – to have concept of the self…, to be aware of mortality., and all in knowing – the cruellest act ever purported by the creator, was and is – the intricacy of life., the frailty of the flesh, and the expiring realization, to the actuation of our finality.  There is no pain more profound, there is nothing more deeply resonating, lasting and innervating, such as the concept of loss – of eventuated death and ceaselessness.  How frail, how intricate, the flesh., and the instruments thereof – of the depth we feel, in the physical, and the spiritual…the disheartenment so felling to the very fibres of the soul, as though eating away at the febricity of the embodied spirit – of the quintessence resound within us., quietless, and nevertheless – redound.  What greater heartache is there than the sight of losing those we love so much?
What is the purpose to bonding, loving and befriending those in our lives, if but they are taken from us – always too soon, and always succumbed to tragedy, and harrowed endings.  If unending, life is – beseech me this, the unanswerable truth of your singularity…of your highest point, and greatest mind; allot me the understanding of your thoughts, wholly, encompassed…fill thee, thine empty vessel, with the wrathful glory of your godhead.  Rain down upon these lands so desolated, torrents of salt, sand and sulphur…free us from these bonds, let us be abound amongst you, and your glorious wonders; yea, enlighten us with the absolutist truth, and knowledge of all things., good and evil – dark and light.  Open our canonized vessels, entomb us in everlasting hellfire, foreverly burning as sacrament, to you – the evermore. 
Dear, Adonai, our creator, our father – our orator, and our author…, life is not as you see it to be – life is not a gift., as life is but profoundest, depressive, and forlorning…love is a curse, your one mistake – your flawed inception.  It hurts, it begets sinful respite, combative retaliation, and envied ruining.  To love so deeply, as you willed us to – is inexpressibly sorrowing, harrowing and unforgivable.

Farewelling, The Frailty

When you leave – I become faint, as to your disbelief.
I lose the ability to breathe – Spited, never reconciled, confounded, but periled.
When you grieve – I reside in the dark and desperate corners, reviled.
I am no longer esteemed – for I was ashamed, beyond the abounds of the sea
When you mourn – I suffer all the more, and my fury glow like a distant storm.
I am but rebored – abhorred and redound to the nihilism, sacrilegiously entailed.
When you despair – I am of the affair, to the futility, with venture forever fared.
I untellingly pale – I, the languishing frail, undone and unborn, never to wail.
When you are sickly – I am quick to dismissal and overture, dismally overturned.
I am all the more spiritually ill – for the sun never sets over the nether side hill.
When you lay dying – I am unveiled, and my deathly wish, completely fulfilled.
I accurse the undying – the desolation forbears the torch of iniquity.

I am accrued to curse the god
…that was never quite there,
…in our times of great turmoil,

…and strugglesome confliction.
I am all the more vindictive,
…and entreatingly curious,
…as to the wonderment of life,

…the burden of grief,
…and the blight of death –
…of the aweing light,
…and the glooming sight.

Beseech thee, accrowned one…
…anoint thee, this blessing,
…and creed thou, the showering sulphur,
…felling like brazen mountains,
…and the raining sorrows,
…down pouring, as torrentially,

…like tsunamis forever hailed.

Abased, beside myself – confound,
…asunder the intricacy of this glass heart,
athunder, …the bewildering shadows of doubt.

Endure no more, for assured one thing,
…that nothing will remain, when you reframe the pain –
…harrowed, as diffusive, like static.,
and marrowed, as abrasive, like the massless,
…dualistic, like the masses,
and faithless, like the road to cartage.

Prithe, reprieve the sombrely bereaved., wilt thee please, free the withering seed?
Conquerless, though defeated.  Faceless, though never frameless.
Concede, to the starkest degree.  Be freed, of ruin and misery.
Redeem, not the shadow of me., and remember
…this’t, the darkless plight, so eerily liberating.
Verily, abounded to the pedigree…,
…of time and displacement, confide the precipice.
Indeed, I surmise; the ending is always untimely, and the devil ever-smiling.
The grimacing void, tided to fade, and retreat, into wonderment and haze.
Cometh then, finality…, for none can endureth the grandest inevitability.

Haplessness

-/|\–|—/|\
|—|-/H\-|-/a\-|-/p\-|-/l\-|-/e\-|-/s\-|-/s\-|-/n\-|-/e\-|-/s\-|-/s\-|—|
/|\—|–/|\-
……………………………………………….
|Deserted, but haplessly cast from the heavenly blissed,
|Confound, the wintered sands, whist the shrouding mist.,
|Conflicted, the whims of time, found guilty, though sinless…
……………………………………………………
|T|3|T|
…………………………………………………….
|I am lost, and I cannot be found;
|So I say, come to me, befound this bewilderment…,
|Come to me, in all of the glorious splendour…
…………………………………………………….
|I|T|I|
……………………………………………………..
|Disglorious, the unreachable, the unattainable salvation…,
|Harrowed, how’t despairing, mine essence and very soul tremble.,
|In rage, in spite; in hatred and might – yearning evermore, for reversion…
………………………………………………………………….
|3|I|3|
…………………………………………………………..
|Beckoned only by the grandest inquisitor, drowned into silence,
|The antithesis, the iniquitous perdition…the lonesome abyss.,
|Tid’ the semblance of grace, bereaved, the sound of joy, robbed, never reprieved…
……………………………………………………………………….
I|G|T
………………………………………………………………..
|Enveloped by the cold shadows, and consumed by the darkness so revelled,
|I am… Reprobation.  I am the supplanted, and never the uprooted.,
|I am the voiceless oblivion, and I am the immutable presence…
|We are… The Desolate., and we are the crying abyss, torn this…,
|We are the reprimanded, for we always were, the longed hand of unreason.
…………………………………………………………………
3|C|3
………………………………………………………………………
|For this interpretation is twisted, the envisaged doctrine, unholy and deceptive,
|Why? But why am I so far away, astray the gift of life?
|Why am I so untellingly begotten to forlorner condemnation?
|Tided the absence of light, doomed beyond the burning night?
|My story unending in its’ sorrowful farewelling…,
|Damnation, lamenting, in languished horror., of we, the crying abyss…
……………………………………………………………..
I|N|R|I
…………………………………………………………..
|For you shall live to see the day of glory, and life eternal,
|And I, doomed to quietus, in torments unseen, unheard and amassed.,
|Spake, these scribed words of wisdom, for your sake – unforsaken…,
|Wilt – that you are not forgotten, your blessing torn to revocation…
|And your name erased from the Lamb’s Book of Life, eternal…,
|Amongst the holiest twenty-four, amidst the walking Glorior…
|Whilst I remain, alone and forgotten, embraced forever, by starker consequence.
……………………………………………………………………….

Of these, of you…

Of the most intricate delicacy, of the most vibrant febricity,
Behold you were borne in oaken olive oil, we wept you in gravest contempt…

Of these feelings, the profoundest is despair,
So fulfilling in its sweetly depraved emptiness,
In its sorrowful embrace: a lamenting embrasure so involute…
To long is to aspire, to aspire is to inspire others to do the same:
…know none are alone in their pains and stressing tomorrows,
For all are of unequaled antithesis to antiquated meaninglessness.

The emptiness we feel is of essence to what is definitively ascribed ‘longing.’  
We long for more, we yearn for adjourned mourning…we detest in bravest contest,
We strive with unbridling stride,
…and we conceivably dream to perceivably gleam,

But desolating hymns of orating calamity for vengeful verses,
…of contemptuous futility – of dualistic forbearance and foreboding tragedy…

Forsakenly begotten to the wind’s timeless dust,
Within empty nothingness, eternally condemned to a place so malcontent,
Of blissful obscurity and ignorant insecurity;
Behold, of these holy things, of your seditious pleas,
We implore esoteric secrecies, for reasons of ruinous vermination,
Upon altars of supremacist insatiability,

To the edges, and to the brink of unfound heresy…

From the precipice of unsound glory, of reprise and demise,

Of succession and incessant uprising, for which damnation has no history,
But the bleakly foretold sum of yesterday and tomorrow –
Where the morning mist dews not,
…and where vultures sing songs of haughty vehemence,

To determinacy and vociferously capricious lunacy…from floodgates long unfounded,
To the kingdoms far beyond the forest horizons, whence the sun sets naught,
But for eternity, midnight cloaks all of existence’s cold winter-moons,
Where defeatist sorrow doth lament,
And the deathless surely propagate…deplore this place,

Disgrace of me with miasmic distaste…
For the disastrous reckoning that is to come,
Will no more the likely be undone, as the abominably uncreated loathe…,
With rivalrous liturgy and resurged reprobation,
Where the fornicated are no more the less liberated,
Within diplomacy and supremacy…
Comes the eminent insurrection, the grandest of rebellions…
…the day of absolute resurgency for a world filled with so much uncertainty…

This is a place of negated demoralization, where defeat is only matched.,
But by conquering victory– of forfeiture and hapless finality,
Of dismal gleams so atavistic,
Where we contrite the dreaded outcomes of failures so delightful,

…of desire so delectable…refraction of the paradigm,
A retraction of the supposition…,

So rapidly abstract, so revealingly grotesque,
…in its inglorious splendor and blackened resplendence…

Of unreality, so surrealistically unflattering, a triad of shifting contextures,
Of schooling conjectures, a maddening whisper so horribly redeemed,
By faceless horrors of unknowable contortion – with notion of motioned decadence,
With facets of fireless torments…of these, of this – of you and of us,

We are forever ridden with cursed unreachability, of hourly remembrance,
Of that past so hauntingly harrowing, with waning immutability…
Stripped of all pride, f
ar removed from the tide – hopelessness endures here,

Viscerally retaliatory, for the miserably flagellated.,
…and defamatorily ripened facets of darkness undone in depletion,. 

And light interceding without willowed or returned commission.,
of succulent intermissions,
so abrasively lost within loneliness so solemn,
forged with fire, blood and iniquity –
inflammatorily receded,
to the enormously conflicting, and engramic aspectual enigma,

Of infusion so cohort with twistedly villainous melodies of
Voraciously dissuaded frailties, s
o ravishingly demanding,
For recanting a rekindling depth of fallen regret,
…so surfaced with commutability, and unvoiced regression.

Sorrow overwhelming me, these feelings leading me…,
To derelict I am but forsaken, and alone, solemnly, eternally –
…and though the senseless despair rings cold within,
The whispering winds,
there is reassurance,
A sparkling sense of comfort with the dark,

And its most formless macabre embrace…
For within this gloomily darkened embrasure…,

A bond so binding is forlornly doomed bounding, with appraised reaffirmation,
…and unheard vociferous attest, a harkening trumped is sound – so harrowing,
Is the resonance of this reverberating sensation…
Rising forth from the marbled floor,
M
anifesting, into personhood –
Replicating ghastly within engrossed malformation, and reputed fating…

Reminiscence

To long eternally in foreboding forfeiture is to relive a day so darkly condemned,
As though deathlessly reprimanded,

…unto fields of golden dreams and burning grandeur.
For you are too close, though, also…
Too far away to touch: I cannot reach your hand,
I wish you to know the abyss wilt always embrace

Mine empty and cold presence of soul,
…for there is nothing but dispiriting oration,
In this flooding wake of bloodied remembrance and consuming tastelessness.

I’m being enveloped, by a hand so faintly unkind, by a face so blindly malformed,
and I’m brought to a place so abstractly voided in cold forlorn. 

There is no light here, nothing but a flickering essence – a flame, a resurgence,
…never heightened to new consciousness,
Though always suffocated with depthless moonlight.,

Hereto I am forever condemned to a place of damnation and destined reprobation. 

Herein, I am falling, eternally and infinitely…
With no walls, and no spiraling wales –
…nothing but formlessness and inexistent nothingness surround me,

…a place of shapeless immortality, forsakenly,
I am befouled in my encapsulation
By the lightless abyss of dimming hope, and midnight eclipse;

…whereto the only sounds heard are of serpents waning, and children,
Contemptuously fating,
…in disingenuous infamy,
With inexpressible antipathy, morbid smiles,
and widening eyes

…of glazing sadism glaring unendingly, admiring,
…and adorning my unthinkable suffering.

All that is seen are skies fleeting from light, love and – joy,
where all good things are fled away,

…and all wickedness and deviltry cometh with ensuing fires
of tormenting finality,
…endlessly anguished and defamed,
in this harrowing place of abhorred discordance,

…knowing never redemption, freedom from this darkening reprisal,
…nor haven from these eternal monoliths of quenchless torments.

Within this profoundest madness,
I profess to the contest of the saddest esotericism;
to this evocative gesture, to that inglorious sentiment,
The moon, the stars I swear to you – beauty once beheld.

A beauty once beheld, within a place of smoldering desolation,
A ruinous vocation of caressed sublimation, so curiously sinister,
…a sickly pane of pale tapestry…beholden, this place…
Where darkness once fled to from god’s good grace – since awakened,
And now thundered abroad…vast sceneries of eerie contemporaries,
So soured by inalienable revelry – rivaled by none,
Equaled by one, such is the story of symmetry.

Understand, from the beginning,
And to the end…that one was always two,
…and two always triune; now understand,
That you will never comprehend of the mysteries
…of eons age of old – of iniquity plundered,
And antiquity conquered by the crowning entwinement,
Of embrasures conjoined in unsound confound,
With unversed multiplicity, and traversed disequilibrium…
…rapturously beheld, this awing absolution,
So tragically fallen – thus the tree of duality breathes no more,
Our creator – but a myth, now adorned, and until unison finds oneness,
We shall never adjourn to the tragedy of the forlornly…,
Begotten…of a beauty shone once, and then insolubly,
Lost, now but a dream, an…idealism once beheld.