The World of Myth Magazine

1753

She was the Summer sun shining
In a garden full of fragrant roses
Busking in her beautiful energy
I say enthralled puzzled intrigued
Unaware of the tragedy to unfold.
If I ever felt love I would argue
This cataclysm of colours and emotions
Caused She, who could not speak her voice
Yet I could hear the song of your soul, my Love
In spite of no words spoken.
"A man of your station."
Encrypted these words stand on the entry of
A very personal invisible hell-
Force fed the culture of my class
The day before the journey we said our goodbyes
But your eyes contained an infinite expanse of sadness
A feeling
I never saw in you.
Little did I know the secret garden that you were was not to be again
That very ignorance kept me sane
All those days hours minutes months years away
I descended in shames I could not confess
How unworthy I became of you
Yet had you lived,
You would have taken me all the same,
Unworthy corruption absent from your soul
Indeed you would have cleansed and redeemed mine.

WINTER IN THE GARDEN, 1755

I never dealt well with grief
It being so unmanly, so vague.
You rest my beloved
Your epitaph being none
Other than your name
On account of your wordless existence
And your lowly earthly status
The nobleman cut a strange figure
Gifting flowers to the dead deaf girl’s grave
You who were worth ten of me.
Grief is a cancer
That grows unseen
Devouring life
The soulless shell walking across
From tombstone to tombstone
They say I died that Winter
I say I was dead long before.

HOLY CHRISTMAS

Cut the ties of this empty room
Cut the very fibre of what makes this prison real
Oh madness!
YOU! Mother, father, brother, the faithful servants
Of the system that made this madness
Not only possible but desirable,
Good wine never tasted so earthy
Cheers to all, this Christmas eve!
The room rejoices- all have eaten
Drink from the chalice of truth.
They started drinking contorting in horrible faces
At first not understanding the destiny I had bestowed on them
Of my volition only
As I stood in the middle of the room
In the best clothes
Smiled upon the carnage
Blood gushed out of semi open mouths exhaling life
You brother
The rightful heir to my father’s name
Had the privilege of seeing the sword close-up to the heart, cut out and eaten RAW
You spy and commander of propriety
Protecting our name
And yourself from seeing me taste true love
Walking over corpses,
I took off that very night wandering the earth in the cold.
Death would eventually
Surely come
Like flowers crashed
My soul lay for the taking
Seeing really no solution other that
Taking out of the way whatever obstacle
Set out to reach the outlaws
Live life free of constraint.

DREAMSCAPE

A horse, gold, my weapons-
This is the kind of guy I am
The night in its darkness followed us
To protect
As several unseen eyes showed the way
A small hunting hut enough room for the both of us
The small fire lit warmed my limbs
I fell into a sleep too long and tortured
And in that very lost dreamscape
Where reality meets madness
I realised how easy it is to disappear
From consciousness
As I was born a new me,
Marie
Your sad eyes looked at the wretched new monster
Your heart pulsing of love for ME the soul I had been
Having excused all my sins
You looked so pale, my love
So dead a million times gone the sun
Out of your eyes gone the Summer
That you were.
"Come with me…"
You whispered and took my hand
To lead me in the dreamscape.

HER GRAVE: THE VAMPIRE LIVES

The night after, knowing well the world was hunting me
I walked the wet soil of the cemetery of the poor
With bear hands excavating your grave
I could not have you in life
I was going to have you in death
The small coffin opened far too easily
Dopamine adrenaline all sorts running my heart at 100 miles an hour
"She lives!" Your perfect body preserved as if they had interred you one hour prior
As cold as corpses indeed are.
You opened your eyes Marie
I knew it was dreamscape even if real
"Take me away," said your mind to mine
As if in clear words.
The blood of animals was at first
Your request
It nourished your beauty
The crimson lips and the spectral whiteness of the skin
My bride lives!
Tentatively walking, recovering ever
So fast from your forged death
I feared not ask questions I knew the answer to.
You asked a human for feast
And this when our joys and sorrows came
A human could have not foreseen
Sweet Marie.

AT LAST

The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?
Jeremiah 17:9 ESV

Steal dahlia cold beauty
Of your unspoken works and words floating
Over the still waters in this strange hydil
The swans courting made a nest
Out the fox they killed
Feelings dormant in this still winter
Muffled
Neither are what we used to be
This new bond a twisted reflection of confusion
When did I leave the pedantic mainstream morality
For this easy winter dreamscape?
Where all colours are muted tenuous browns whites and greys
And you stood, lady of the waters, in the midst of it all.
The apple was red and contrary to this all
You bit and so did I
While he lay there unconscious of this unreal ordeal
To go through
Think of it as all a dream
Soon his young blood was shared equally between
You cut my neck in slow motion biting the jugular
It shot a true hit to the loins and
I WANTED YOU.
The sacred ritual left me exhausted on the very margin of death
The last I remember your loins over mine
Lust depicted on your young face ageless
Though in your eyes a different story
The hardness
The gore the orgy
Of desecrated sex
He was long dead when I came to my senses
"You need to feed,"
And took a rat as joke for a first meal
Marie the vampire with a sense of humour.
Hours, minutes, days, years.
Such a human construct so far from
Our landscape of non-dead non-love.
The Winter garden has subdued tones and mystery
Only the most reserved souls crave.

1982
IN THE ERA OF THE MACHINE, MANY YEARS HAVE PASSED

"Be still, and know that I am God."
Psalm 46:10

Primordial nature unspoilt
By the continuous cruel turnaround of life and death
Winter ends in Spring so that
Nature is again reborn in new life
Tension of hope and regeneration.
Silence
Silence all around in the machine
A.I. mimicking human brains
Surpassing them all then
Eventually
The era of the Human machine to take over the dawn of rebirth
They found their spirit was encased and it was too late
To choose freedom
The sad parallel with what one would call life
Of the non-dead.
If her face was a parody, a grimace, of her human beauty
So reflected her spirit my debauchery
Souls lost to the mimicking of love
Arrangement of convenience
There is no love for the vampire.
She so craved my human energy
Surely it came as a surprise to her herself
To find me repulsive in the guise she gave me.
The machine herself did not have time
For mechanical games
A feeling I came to agree upon
The taste of human prey.
We had little need
For each other’s hunts.
In silence is God
In the God of all things damned
There is no love
For the Vampire.

-