Kutulu Rising

That ancient lord of the depths

whose call to chaos

lies within the visage

of pitch black eyes

and scaly pale green flesh,

that father of an eldritch

alien existence

Surpassed only by the horrors

of his mother-lover.

At once, my vision split

and though my eyes never departed

from those inky pools embedded deep

in the structure of this infamous cephalopod

Witnessed at once,

a descent from hazy white mists

unseen layers surrounding our rocky atmosphere

that fill the void between heaven and earth

equally as valid as the second sight

revealing his ascent

a rising tumult

bubbling and scorching the seas

on his journey from below the murky depths

during the scaling of Sirius

one of many celestial signs

to herald the coming reign of anarchy.

Talismans of the Prime Mover

Removing the cavern,

I pulled it up like a sheet,

and inside

seeds shining like the stars

and randomly planted,

some implanted,

spiralling galaxies

in the womb of creation.

Chasing Auguries

Many men before me

have come

to gaze upon polished metal

Starless mirrors

reflect the mystery of my being.

Secrets that lie beyond the looking glass

and beyond these obsidian lenses

reveal to me your mysteries

For yours is the threshold

over which we gaze

yet rarely cross.

Myriad ways

to witness your spectral, timeless reality

scrying the night sky

and piercing the veil

to glimpse the visions

that only seers pursue.

Hanna-hanna

Flowing vestments

waft in the breeze

as a priest to old mysteries

approaches the monolith

an aged stone rough

by ancient tools

and the weathering of time.

In awe of the moment,

lays a receptive, left hand

upon the great rock,

out of which Paleolithic man once carved

a likeness of an elder woman.

Were she a leader or priestess,

were she divine, or merely revered for her status

experienced in the arts

of living and dying

on a good day,

perhaps a testament

to an archetype

we have yet to become.

Agana-Vadoma

” Our luxuries wane, and freedoms fade,

when the fabric becomes unglued.

The Lares emerge to intervene

for the living,

when we wage war upon ourselves.

Ill-receptiveness to prophecy

will burn the candles at both ends.”

At my words, a band of my catty blood-sisters

came to tear me down

and cast me outside of our tribe

When the elders came to my defense

the agressions loomed on.

Not until the turn of a page

had the Lares come screaming

the house spirit as enraged

as any bean-sidhe or lilitu

when descendants reject

their own ethnic ancestry

revealed through the arts of prophesy

And with her hair on fire,

and blood from her lips

The mother of our ancestral lineage,

perhaps once a prophetess herself,

draped in the cloth of our fore-mothers

stood as fresh as bone, and flesh

a testament to the ferocity

and wisdom shared through me.

Kingu’s Bride

Thunder crashes into me

as I step from the threshold

sprinting down a misty hallway

Fog rises up my ankles

and the air is electric

with the touch of cold hands

playing my spinal cord like a lyre

Struggling to remember a face

when comes the chill of a spirit,

who pursues and obsesses

as I look down to behold

myself donned in a white gown.

French doors blown wide

by a relentless storm

Gazing to the edge of the stone balcony

The sky raining hail

loud explosions of water, assaulting

screaming upon the stone

as I glimpse him in the darkness

standing in the marshes below

I shut my eyes

and grip tightly the door handles

Deep black eyes searching mine

through the distance

like a spirit who longs for its bride.

His is the sight I cannot bear.

Pale green

scaly flesh

his webbed fingers

tentacles that protrude,

from his face.

That call forth madness and confusion.

So grotesque

I could not bear to look upon him

and yet…

As I gaze out these doors

a sadness falls upon my face.

I know this place

and my mate

as well as I know myself

always together

yet forever apart,

pursuing one another.

A sadness graces me

two halves play the game

one always pursues the other

connected and magnetized

attracted and repulsed.

Strangers came to our marble halls

citing platitudes and bearing gifts

yet I cannot recall

why they have come.

A shadowy slumber passes over me

and I find my way back

to my single bed,

where I fall into dreaming once more.

Our Lady of the Loyalists

Liberty has fallen

kicked in her side

by the bipedal parasites

the injuriousness

hypocrisy’s insufferable cries

of cowardice

and rampant divisiveness

spreading its seeds

as wildfires across the forested interior.

Armies of men

to strongarm

our town halls

and peaceable assemblies

an expectant sight in a foreign nation

but not here;

not in our home.

We’ve stood for our foreign brothers

at the beck and call

staving off genocide and oppression

so stand and deliver

when the machines of propaganda

rail against us

if we won’t raise our voices now

nobody will raise theirs tomorrow.

Dystopic Absorption

Golden ages that graced

the eaves

have long rattled and scorched

with tracks of carbon and sulphur

idyllic bliss battered

mis-shapen

Were I living in a dream

to have missed the transformation

thousands upon thousands

those Golden years

where now objects of attainment

fallen to ashen rust

I’ve walked forever

in the bloodstained sands

that turn scepter and bone to dust

and scatter the cobwebs

upon this broken world.

Echo

Didn’t I tell you

each time I met the disappointments

and broke into my heart

with a bat of tears

laden with corrupted fears

riddled with anguish and confusion

I was seeking and yearning

for whatever motherly-given right

I was told in my youth

would somehow

Someday

be a certainty

in my future life.

Struggling with the changes of this age

the rise of my cohort

watching contemporaries

take their place in history

they leave me

still standing

still searching

and though I stand determined

foresight reveals

a dream far away

and far behind

shaded by the looming shadows

of a pending dystopia.

Transmigration

Along the digital sea

I set myself upon this task

to fill the void in my heart

and soothe the madness in my soul

A love for all things

and on its underbelly

a lust equally powerful

lips laced with the taste – of poison

Reaching for every smile

and promising approaches

my passion released

to raise havoc

on civilized man

as the tempests that sweep wide

across the endless seas

I saw a grimace

in your electric eyes

and you opened your doors

to a lonely vagabond

and offered shelter and vision

in the hallowed halls

of your blue sky mission

and brought me into your fellowship

Those were fragile days

when I mistook compassion

for consentual lust

we swapped stories

and I pressed your boundaries

when I longed for ways

that taxed your traditions

until your brethren

chose to walk my path.

The tension mounted between us

the derision was weary

and division, ever-present

I apologize for naught.

I was always open

to unlimited potential

open to possibilities

but you closed your doors

to the spirit of exploration

when you closed your heart

and turned away from me.

You turned the lights out.

And then came the rage.

unchecked and out of bounds.

never wanted for more

than to make you see

your own limitations

never wanted more

for you to move beyond

religion and nationality

never wanted more

to show you how

you led yourself astray

I shudder to imagine

the scope of the lectures

you have ready at your command

but I’ve been down that road many times

and I shall never agree with you.

I exposed my truth and vision

and it became symbolism

on your digital walls

a forgotten place long draped

by the cobwebs of your mind

So misguided to believe

yourself so godlike

to bare before the earth

the visions

of an imprisoned pale green squid

that old god of Lovecraftian lore

who lies deeply dreaming

with the sigils of your mind

such boastfulness

reveals the hidden truth

about all the skills you lack

Yet those inadequacies

will go unnoticed

by your adoring worshippers

who prefer to beg on bended knee

for a prophet to guide them

than to stand on their own two feet

take down that pomp and circumstance

and dissect the mask

behind this visage,

beyond your countenance

remains a single, lonely man.