Preview of Perdition

ALIGNMENT & WEB-STICKIES

Within the pretense of particulars ~ we dissolve ~ diving into the elaborate frenzy

extend the trance end dance --- sinking into --- backdrops of chaos holding

~ the dominion of dreams ~

a surreal vice

 

--- clutching, at the ethereal ---

~ the whimsical, whisper ~

catharsis in a periodical pause

~ temptations ~

trickery afoot

amidst nocturnal illusions

stolen

 

--- infiltrated moments captured ---

points, of relative decorum ~ tainted moonlight ~ like some comatose, paradox

the luminescent moonbeams, dance the jest --- as imagined significances,

'are pleasured'

--- a plebeians prize awarded, by delusions ---

An American Dream.

 

--- Spans, the Distance ---

 

Crumbling immaculate celluloid spectacles projected

~ in all that can be conceived ~

our naked want exposed --- an impressionists perfusion --- reposed in Utopian squalor

~ classicism plundered on modernist themes ~

confused

 

This muse is not amused ~ to stand morally accused ~ of sentimental crimes

--- played on the recluse --- and waylaid --- in some dyspepsian heaven ---

feel, that languid rupturing bliss ~ the precipice, of between the lines

~where reality lives ~

sublime

 

--- The river Flows ---

 

into Clandestine pools

--- drowning in the black abyss ---

unwound helical flames, afloat on the crippling breeze

formless broken, participles --- fractured tendencies, amidst

~ these zephyr nothings ~

slinking away, dissipated dreams --- ephemeral realms, into the deep

--- to be carried away, on crimson tides ---

 

~ crystal tears fall ~

like static rain, out of hard argent rouged skies, mute factions play

--- their serious games and, frenetic tainted playgrounds ---

seep poisons --- into the fray

warning sounds litter sullied well worn trails of trials

Predators, track concrete jungle ~ choking off, Earths loamy soil

 

... Pristine a theme, no longer to be seen ...

They weep

                        Marooned in a Strange Capture

 Caroline...

 

 

Blood stagnates in spiritual pause

No longer sees purity in god

And goddess alike

Angels refuse to show their aura

The damned rarely receive encouragement from light

 

In dreams, lucid in tone

My faith has sipped poison

As my soul has inhaled, upon cold floor

Harsh reality

 

I have demanded soul attention of many hours

Whilst cloaked in mysticism

Still, I have witnessed no faces in sedative smoke

Of frankincense and myrrh

Gold, stolen by demons

Replaced by tungsten

Though I do not summon or dance with serpent

I keep rhythm with hypnotic footsteps of fear

Both of which have their levels of enlightenment

Their beauty is to be admired

Like sky with sinister cloud that compliments

Sunset beneath

Blush

Cerise pink

Almost

 

Stars soon to decorate such a utopian vision

And yet, Moon,

Lunar, if I may call you by name?

With all your grace

In feminine posture

I cannot help but sense you are hollow

Emptiness, then, is a trait we both share

Not without its merits

 

Do you move

To the resonance, heartbeat of my thoughts

As one void empathises with another?

 

No reverb

However small

No answer

However detuned

 

But then this has happened

Due to life in reverse

I can no longer expect things to be straight forward

If time is illusion

I maintain the right

Of it being Imbolc forever

To nurture these seeds of doubt

 

Vibration becomes denser

Denser still

This void calls out to another

 

No answer

However detuned

No reverb

However small

The damned rarely receive encouragement from light

 

                      Copyright PoppySilver 2010

 

            ICE & FIRE ... FIRE & ICE

 

  Eternities mode Transcendence, bugle Avion...

To the attentions of Brood Master Has -ul' Sairien beckoned to the Primary Palisade. In a majestic mighty crash lightenings setting the scene to startling attention getting brilliance, the perfect unknowable essence, is made manifest. The command.

 

The clarion shock moves... Outbound.   

Twas done and Glimmer stood on the end of Turn on wing tip, aglow in the billowing blaze and glared, into a Wyeir'd thought to be gotten out gleaned, in about an increment of a blink. Inevitable conclusions taken their place in the instantaneous. As the Heavens move, and it all falls asunder. In twined hearts beat.

 

The Wyeir Flew in formations flame. Deliverance, Eldest of Wyier spear head the transition. The Brood, was molting to shedding the refractions of scales light-speed quickening, fluted strains of bilges stoked now, muti-hued proton matter like whorling crystal sing pangs adoration in the mighty passing of ancient grandeur's majesty. Akin to Justice kith and karn rendering 2ng Wing, his twin. Bore the battery of gathering forged storm, that would leave Avion Nest to the eons eternal cauldron ... and, star dust!

 

Twas time ticking and winding, a measure, not blending past the call. To the warp an woof was the benders of planes dimensions, the Ethereal Jumpers Between. The windings of the coil, generator of  Warding. The Wyiers of Criterious Perdition's purge, and the insurgence will open to the approach of thundering wings. All its Windward legends dance upon the margins mystical. With the granted focus of The Eyrie, Its purpose...

 

Engaged, beyond redemption.

 

Raw current emanations, bending times wheel to the spectral of the Crimson Sky, echoes the Eons abounding concurrence. The portal whorl to its cycling, to a calling none had stall to obey. A calling that would take all of their combined powers in a Unison, like a dusty tomb long past worth remembering. Glimmer stretched his glory to fly in such a Wyier, barely out of Quathar, to be in the eye of such portent. That Masters, beckon Dragons. From slumbers. To the betweens of nothing... void potential, crystalline cold. Vast tracts of prisms spectaculars of no rhyme, nor reason. Dragon chimes... 'Bliss!'

 

To the pulse of the Palisades Paladin -- Glimmer's Wing, Criterious chosen sang to the Chorl biddening shift of the locations rebound, for all to transcend through that pulse in a Harmonic spread. Sequential dimensional trans-location of the mass these Dragons would require, to maintain portal stretch and breach continuum at a scales breath return, with a Millenniums Mass. Sorted Souls... Bound, on the Fly by.

Surely, Draconian showing of tell.

For Father Time,

would stand still, in this Turn of Wing.

          Dragon doings.

 

        ... alternately ...

 

    In human terms

Kurian was curious, it was just a natural part of him and, geometric images sometimes mesmerized him, like an idiot savant. The crystalline marvel he saw spun before him, in some rendered consciousness, like a chord found on his well worn piano. That emotes an eternal ache of some ancient pull, to the classical edges that toyed with his sensibilities, that at times. Seeming so contrary... opposed, to that which could be. Real.

 

The tangible, deal. A construct of notes upon its Ink Stained pages, where float arpeggios, transitional dissident chords, where fingers reach the stop. Leap, to crashing crescendos... This more like Goth strung out Death Metal, grinding to speed breaking sound barriers. 'What, some heavy Metal Comic, of Vikings hell bent for Valhalla,' scream Ancient souls, and sing soldiers credos of conquest and plunder. For this, Kurian once was. He gaze aft the bridge and morn, the River Styx. Captain of the Damned. Eternal champion of the bloody blades, this seeking to get out. Run rampant, through his veins.

 

Where, was there a War. Worth the slaughter, those selves fold in upon self, muddled. Convoluted, continuance renders down to the finite tear of resigned need once more. To sit in amongst the rubble an waste, glaring sculls and assorted filth. Full to girth,  and armored battle standard. Captain of The Damned, waiting the call. To Ride...

 

The dream faded to somewhere beyond recollection, as the sun filled the window in golden streaming dusty beams, that interfere. With the somehow in-between... on Wings of Thunder his glory soar the twilight. Shredding lightening ride chariot skies of forbiddings cast, 'Vengeance' cried the Gods... and Lord-lings of Ural. Valhalla stir, like a serpent Adders rattle the Hall to a muttering hive. Expectation... rode the wind!

 

It was like his heart was going to explode in his chest... as “BE READY” shake him to the marrow and bolt upright into a beam of warm early summer, still the vision, if that's what it was, overlapped reality. A hurtling firey ball in a swarm behind and a silent screaming comet in front with a ice trial tail of a brutal end, speaks of its deathly image. Carnage, its ultimate aim. Contained, as an astral consequence. Destiny, is its name...

 

The swarmed, mass of  Ancient Wonder, almost like trying to catch its tail, valiantly they stoke. To the last seconds, before it slammed into the earth, like a nuclear holocaust. He could see it in his minds-eye, and knew. It was real. It was coming, as sure as the sun came up and now, begging to be in his eyes. Not this. No, not this, this this...

Fading off, into the distance. Obscurity, beckons blasphemous. A horrid, misconception...

Kurian stunned, still is the unmentionable frozen. Moans, to thrash in amongst his soaked sheets, in what he must behold. The Stag, watching the primal forest laid waste and bust to flames, and the animals there of, no where to go but cinders. Half the orb in mornings light, as the dark-side burns false dawn... in a demon, hue upon the horizon.

 

Blight, hath come hither. Judgment day presides, amongst Perdition, this hellish overture.

 

From an alternate point of view, the shuddering masses eyes, look to scarlet emblazoned skies. To gawk at the blinding flash, that burns retinas to puddles and run down cheeks of those, too close to the epicenter. Then, vaporized. Kurian watched the blasted crimson sands of time, like blood red silicone glass shards, tear living flesh from their bones falling to dust, that lights to flame... all a flaming oblivious, crescendo.

 

Beyond imagining.

 

It flash once more... to space and there is a worm winding its way, that weave like intricate scales that glimmer... Glimmer, hung there a heart beat, as bits and pieces of the bottom of the world fell out in gaping wounds, a new pain in his hearts of heart. The wailing of the Mother, losing her breath, and... Kurian. Was no longer curious. Wanting nothing more... than to wake the f**k up!

“Kurian, Kurian. wake up... Jesus baby, why you crying?”

Lately

The Pain, trickles down

to that place

where memories, were bound

determined,

to hold sway...

 

Bending, illusions dream

heart to race

there begging, to be found

affirmed,

never going away...

 

Silent, are the screams

without lost grace

no one else, hears the sound

learned,

to keep at bay...

 

Dying, a little by degrees

with its trace

here it disposes, cycles mount

fragmented,

wearing out faces...

 

Stressing, a very fine line

the evident erase

possibilities poised, remorse

impregnated,

nightmares are laced...

 

I hang my head and sigh, but lets not go there... and know, I must.

To have healing, continue... and live, to be human.

Not human garbage. Used... abused.

By a past. Never, that far away.

 

Hiding, behind a mountain of denial

and silenced, screams...