illumination and all the other mysteries?


i call upon the horned one, baphomet
speak to me of riddles of this divine heart
of how thine milk raised the great god zeus
and how his men fought to tear you apart

in darkness’ embrace, in lakes of bitter enchantment
is this mine genesis to the shadow lands enticement?

i invoke thine arrows, bitter cupid
did their tips intoxicate this heart
did they leave this stench so putrid
did they see that we were to part

inside this life’s madness, inside this rotting heart
where is my goddess, pleasuring thineself, worlds apart

gods, lend me the tongue you raped from me
and give me back the reason for my sins
her beguiling stare, alone seduces me
hear me scream the name of my celestine!!!

in a bloodbathe coffin tub, i lie staring blankly
at cobwebs of yesterday, sewn by spiders aplenty

my veins cry out their crimson tears
and medusa knows what stoned hearts hold
my celene, you brought back my fears
and these songs i sing til i grow old

baby girl, are you still awake?
the stakes are burning for the seasoned witch
baby girl, you know im awake
watching and praying for another easy b*tch

the notes from a long forgotten piece
resound in every drop of tear
to the mediteranean seas
the voice of celene i hear

curse this world and its divine comedy
of rippling inertia, my skin to her vulva
the rose blooms blackened in this tragedy
of heaving together the angel’s aroma

the night grew wild with revelation
tauren gods m*sturbating the zodiac
planets aligned and blocked constellations
pisces dances ontop of a silver-back

roses were lain, thier fragrace filled thine room
aphrodite, salivating at the sound of our moans
drowning pleasure, sinking in her bosom
for mine satyric desires, and thine nymphet groans

did the fates know that those be our requiem
the end of a midsummers fantasy
my heaving left you c*mming to the heavens
and so ends our filthy story…

<————end “poem”————>

This is the result of listening to too much Cradle of Filth while still being bitter from one hell of a break-up.

Upon making this poem, I had two things in mind: lust and murderous intent. I wanted to let the whole world know how hurt I was, so to speak. I wanted everyone to know how much I “loved” her. [notice the quotation marks] I wanted to let every single person reading that realize that she’s a whore-type-human. Thing is, what drove me to such emotions was the band Cradle of Filth.

At that moment, I had been playing their songs 16 hours a day for weeks. I admit, I fell in love with the way the lyricist wrote. He had lots of images and all sorts of allusions, most of which are derived from dark mythical creatures. [beautiful creatures, indeed] I WANTED TO WRITE LIKE HIM.

And that’s how this “thing” came out. Just senseless typological acrobatics that lived on measure and rhyme. Basically, it’s a whole damn BLANKET filled with purple patches.

I merely faced the empty notepad on the computer monitor and typed what I wanted to: Imagining the said beautiful creatures and me bleeding [emo] amidst them. I just typed whatever it was that came to my mind, checked whether they fit the rhythm and searched for words that would rhyme and make sense. Though, I admit, some are just too far-flung.

And, after finishing the last line, or rather when I got tired of typing, I published [blog] it and left it in the open.

Don’t get me wrong, I DID reread it. I was just so full of myself that I didn’t bother editing it. I was too busy admiring my work of “art”.

Yeah, so now I’m like: What the fuck is this?

But, in fairness, some lines still do have an effect on me. Although, not as intense as when I typed them. Yeah, so they’re still FAILURE lines.

But, now that I found this, I’m gonna think about this poem every time I take a crap – that’s when my mind is busy thinking of stuff. And when I’d get an idea, I’d write it in a notebook. I’d leave it there until I get that clear picture of my goal and then I’d start writing again. So, yeah, check this blog often, maybe I’d post a revision of this soon.

OK, I’ll restate that: Maybe I’d post a POEM version of this soon.

Whoa, the incubation, illumination, sorrowation, gloriation, tiontion things DO EXIST! I’M FEELING MORE LIKE A WRITER NOW!!! I’M A WRITER!!! You’re pretty, I’m a writer, LOVE ME!!!

Should anyone care to ask who this girl is, well, you prolly don’t know her. She was my girlfriend back then. Oh, and <censored>, if you’re reading this, this was just a phase and, thankfully, it has already passed. We’re friends now. Thank you for reading, I love you.


None of those erotic shit happened, I’m just a sick per-fucking-vert. [char, INFLECTION!]


~ by saikow on November 28, 2007.

4 Responses to “illumination and all the other mysteries?”

  1. break up? ooh… who the girl?

  2. HELLO MARIUS! seloso pud ko. wahahahaha….. check me out!

  3. (i’ve read it.) comment:bitter

  4. “the notes from a long forgotten piece
    resound in every drop of tear”

    -> i remembered “your” new game..and that line is my answer…hmmm..
    why not?

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