Arcana

This was originally part of a separate poem, but I felt it had its own attitude. So I added to it and did some editting, and found its pretty great on its own.

Skulls that smile when the mouths of cards scream cerulean

Moonbeams split by serpentine tongues

Spitting out poetry

The demon deities of the luck of the draw

Outlining the sketch of what's left untraced

The ink swivels incubating the page with a colourblind embrace

The words that form in the fauna of the White

The Black mixes with literacy's crucifixion the hinges of Olympians

The tainted pure water of the page greys into monstrous crimson

The belladonna arcana of graphite stars among the harvest ichor

Half-moon spread thin over the blackwater carnival witness

Of the worlds' judgement for the fool towering above death

Reminiscent wishes the pond of polyphonic cisterns

The hanged man of anarchy disembarking into monarchy

The gypsy predicts the fisherman to catch the stars

Fallen down from Saturn's arms craven to the heart of Mars

To take fate into your own hands is to sell your soul

Even empty words can make you whole

The hand of fate will play its cards

We have yet to carry on

Look past the yonder, yarn strung on heartbeats

And weave the seamstress double helix of Elysium like a Phoenix

Rising tide of third eyed riders

Doomed to part, only seven seas arcana's of the iris

Author's Note

I promise I read every single review, and I generally will reply to them. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be happy to hear anything you feel needs sharing. Whenever you write on my shortcomings or breakthroughs, or the themes of my poems, or share ideas and friendly criticism, it decides my next poem to an extent. I will listen, learn and be thankful. And 99% of the time, you'll get a reply unless you're trolling me.