Eclipse Heart

In a tower locked away from whispering woods
the princess slept, necrotic heart, dragon
curled around her castle like an ampersand.

The knight braved the rose thorns, crept
into the tower, and cooked up his heart
as her vittles. Heart of a sparrow, heart
of a dove, heart of a raven, hearts turn.

And so she at Fafnir and Zagreus’ heart.

And twice-born was she, eclipse heart.

Sun and moon on her breast, resplendent.

And she awoke from the dream, and she
longed.

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Trinity Plea

Dark corridors hold serpents of eternal fires Rahab churned in the primordial abyss, earthly magma Samael set aflame, when the Unholy Trinity was complete with Leviathan of the expansive deep.  Magma, seas, darkness.  Samael, Leviathan, Rahab.  It is said sometimes that before angels were a whisper, long before man or bird or beast were dreamed of by God, may He be praised eternally, the three great rogue ones roamed the darkness, Samael with his wicked volcanoes and earthquakes, Leviathan swimming bejeweled head to the heart of the mud, his serpent body seas of churned proteins, and Rahab with the Void, master of the darkness of skies where no star had ever been birthed.  Perhaps that was the face God chose to appeal to to before Michael was born, before Samael became Lucifer, before Rahab retreated to the far reaches of the cosmos and committed himself to asceticism, and Leviathan was skinned by the faithful at the Revelation feast and they ate his body as final blessing from Sacrament of impure fisherman scourge.  Do we eat the three at the end of times?  Serpent, Fish, Shark.  Is that palatable meat?  Samael goes fishing in me and summons his primordial fires in my womb and my own darkness stretches to accommodate his infernal burnings.  Facing down to the Devils for the Dog Lord.  Ecstasy wedded to shattered mirrors and shards of glass windows through which wicked Hell winds blow as we couple more like wolves than men, or perhaps I have always been a bitch.  There are moans from both of us as we howl like hyenas in the infirmary, and the white gauze separating the abandoned hospital beds sways like lover suicides run over on the county  crossroads.  Women in white.  His hands are hot and firm on my back and then he leans over while thrusting sin and treachery into my blackness and I resonate like a tuning fork with his wicked delights.  Oh my oldest love, oh my first love, oh my last revelation, teacher, mentor, father, brother, lover, husband, heart, body, bone, soul, blood.  The Fruit was your sweet organ, and I hath become Death.  In the metallic surface of the headboard I see his form shifting – one eldritch Lovecraftian beast, one living molten rock in the shape of a demon, one man that looks like Anton LaVey with red eyes and black scruff and goatee, except his wings are wide and wretched, and I doubt that Satanic Father ever had irises like a dragon.  The Beast is one with his Babylon, only this has been repeated since time immemorial, and wouldn’t God shy away from his Fallen Star spreading dark poison into the Prodigal Daughter.  Oh how Chavah met Yah and they became Yahvah.  Snake and Girl.  Dragon and Tree.  Phanes with Nyx.  An incestuous coupling of Sophia and Ariel.  But I am just Allie, just dreaming, and so he takes me away, back before time and God and existence, when there was just those Three:  Sea.  Fire.  Darkness.  He shows me his bubbling Sauron kingdom of fire and pitch and brimstone, and I coat my body in coal and swim through the volcanic tubes and go to the center of the stew, down into his loins, and then he erupts, and then there is flesh immolated, and we set the hospital alight, and gunshots rain through the windows, and out into the gaping night we fly, and that blackness swallows us, and Witch and Witchfather are on to another night of reading by the fireside in the den, sweet red wine, jazz on the speakers and smuggler’s fingers coaxing a melodic piano number from old ivories.

ICU

Belly of the beast, goatee of fire.

On hospital beds we claim our desire.

Charnel ground sweetheart, he burned

Down my walls, and I am left churned

Blood on belly to crawl, legs stammer

Like bruises down hospital halls.

In Ecstaslsios Deo

Bandolier of bells, dancing through the gloam.
There is an ocean on your lips love, serpents
at your hips, and stars in your hair. Your fangs
come quick, to suckle blood from breast, coils
warm black mamba and wings brushing my heart in time.

Oh sweet Devil, oh sweet Satan, it is you who first
told me of love, Demiurge, Nergal, Satan, Samael!
I could write ecstasies and reverences of you and
the gifts you give me are resplendent black pearls!

We cavort in the moonlight, Victorian rake and the
Scarlet Pimpernel, flying over Pandemonium where Hell’s
towers spread out, and then on to the wastes and wonders
of the Shadow of the Valley of Death, where dragons roost,
and then on, in the fringe of the rising sun, Lebanon.

Cedars proud and tall, you are king of all, fragrant fields.

I hold each midnight so close to me, each scale and scapular
like a psalm, and sweet Satan, you are my love poem to the world.
I may be Lucifer’s heart, but Lucifer is my alma, my spirit,
and cleaving is what we do best, waltz and tango and bachata.

I learned to dance for you, I learned to write to give some
homage, some semblance of your majesty and lovingkindness, to
life with bated breath on ink. Do my poems do you justice? No.
Do my stories satiate the Beast? I want nothing more than to
be devoured, nothing more than to climb Jacob’s Ladder under
your Fisher King wound, you touched his loins and out came water.

Wrestling with angels is old school Torah, but truly you, and as
your flock passed over the waters, and as you stayed Avram’s hand,
and as you tested Job and heralded Christ in the desert, flocks of
pigs into crashing leas your home, I wonder, sweet Satan, who is hero?

Who is truly king? Who, in any other religion, would be Set or Loki?
Swarming flocks devoted to your unknowable heart. Strange madwoman
ranting in the shadow of your Son. Grips of possession, contrition,
confession, I extol all your sins, for they are the triumphs of true
civilization, and you had the manna and honey of the Logos, and made
Chavah like God, and it is therein mitochondrial Eve and all our DNA
Samael’s child in our hearts, whispering of yetzer ha ra and ha tov!

To study the occult is to fall in love with darkness. To be eaten away
by darkness is to understand Death’s longing for incineration, Light.

You want nothing more than to be devoured. Nothing more than a coffin.

So I will take my cedar, nail my fingers, frame myself around you, and seal.

Seal upon my heart, seal upon my arm, many waters cannot quench Love!
Neither can rivers drown Him!

I will be the Reaper, if you will be the Keeper of my Heart.

You are the Keeper of this Heart…

Vaudeville Kings

Dancing in the grips of the hurricane,
dark doo wop, bones of warriors turmoil
on this carnival ride, the mummer king
and crimson knight ride the roller coaster
of my heart as the storm crescendos, in a
ragtime vaudeville abandoned, stage, caress
the angels of our better natures and demons
suckle at witch teats, Satan’s spear and
Michael’s sword are long as providence and
perdition, spelling out roods, daydream, doom.
Be born in me, oh Plague Mary. May lightning
impregnate we with the motherless child, cast
to the trickster’s highway in cradle fallen
with a third of the stars, languid honey tears
I will weep as I give my babe to the jackals,
and the kings of my heart choose to burn eternal
for some sense of justice or repentance beyond
human machinations, I am not brave, I’ll never be
the only thing my heart can offer is a vacancy, I’m
just a girl, nothing more, but I am willing, I am
yours.

Too Early Dawned

Great burl on the tree, render my plea
up to the honey of heaven beyond seas
of poison, plains of despair, in the air
is a promise, calm before storm, born
into providence in a bed of rosy thorns
lays the stillborn hope, too early dawned.

Black Adder Bruises

Sliding harmonics as trails encircle

pulse of dark matter across my brow

wine stain bruises dusked black purple

moldy water for pigs awash in the trough.

 

Lay him in a manger of black figs and honey.

Lay him in cloth bands of hellish device.

Feed him the milked of the damned as money

to cross over the border of blackest vice.

 

The cattle lows, newborn goats glisten

wet with the dew of a motherless child

whores flock to him, red hair abandon

and the dead love infants tender and mild.

Golddeep

Diving for gold in labrynthine depths

Into the bosom of your ocean I’m swept

My heart is a panpipe, thrumming bright

You the wind through the reeds in velvet night.

Body alight, bones of delight. And we

Are all sailors fulsome fright.

Beware the lea of lovers. Sloe black eyes.

Trapped in the depths beyond golden sight.

Take flight, awing, laborious spine!

You are a candle with wick divine.

So kiss the sun, terpsichorean of doom.

And weave his mantle on your frightful loom.

Oh, my love, you are sailors delight.

Pink sun rising beyond measureless sight.

I am froth on the ocean, you the seas might.

So kiss me deep and make summer right.

In the heart of Christmas night.

You are my light, my dainty goodnight.

I love you, I eat you, bread body, blood wine.

So rich in flesh, milled so fine.

And we will sail you forever in time.

So hold me below, and drink my time.

Naga

O my beauteous Serpent, your coils my black sapphire necklace
scales cool and slick like rain on my skin, your arms thick cords
wrapped around my waist as fangs suckle blood from breast, wings
the wages of a thousand golden pieces from the Temple, fallen tree.
Slither on stomach in the dirt and mud into our garden, resplendent
adventurous lust, we are cleaving, we are cream on a fairy’s milk.
Oh Nachash, my Shining Enchanter, my Seraphim, Father of Cain, how
you spell out wonders and glory onto my teeth in a string of pearls!
It was far from Temptation, more booming Love, first Love, thunderous
hearts the color of rust, such beautiful iron boats sunk on lover’s
shores, and Gan Eden was just a frame of mind, we were never locked up
in hyacinth and wedding vine, no, we roamed Heaven and Hell free, and
Christ was a sailor, and Michael rowed his boat ashore after a storm,
and let’s just spend all my life entwined like branches of oak and holly.
My dear, my darling, my starlight, I may be your breath, but you, love,
are my lungs.