svaenohr: (Default)
I had an intention in mind when I started this poem. It went in a direction I had not planned. Here is that attempt:

Trigger warnings: parasites, body invasion, loss of will )


Aug. 17th, 2012 06:42 pm
svaenohr: (Default)

By = Lord Pyrayton

When the noise of human life
Becomes to much to bear,
I glide away in pale moon light
My wings a whisper in the air.

Skeletal and gently creaking,
Eerie in full moon's glow,
The trees they whisper, softly speaking
Of secrets only they can know.

The chill, it thrills my very soul,
The cold wind nibbles at me;
Winter tries to devour me whole,
But its bleak beauty sets me free.

Deeper now I travel on,
Into the thickest wood;
Now the moonlight's all but gone,
Yet lighter grows my mood.

In places that would petrify
And creep out most mundanes,
I feel at home, I can't deny,
The night is in my veins.

For all my life, I hope you see,
Through darkness do I wend;
I swim through it, and it through me,
The darkness is my friend.

In the night, my only fear,
The most vicious beasts I'm fleeing!
The reason I escape to here,
Is other human beings.

Commentary )
svaenohr: (Default)
By = Pi (Tristan A. Arts)

I am in heat,
and without a mate.
I feel raw animal lust for you,
and wish for us to rut like beasts in the woods,
the hot sexes between our legs entwined,
naked flesh on naked flesh,
the hot musk of rut setting fire to the blood
as we bite and claw one another in our passion,
breaking the skin in a symbolic double penetration.

Whether 'tis I in you or you in me, matters not.
There is only the fervent grinding and screeching of lust,
we two primates in howling, sweaty ecstacy,
until we have used each other up and
cast one another aside,
bestilled flesh upon bestilled flesh,
as we recover from our exertions,
before fucking like beasts once more.
svaenohr: (Default)
Wrote another poem last night, after computer was off.

"Moonlight's Song"
By = Pi (Tristan A. Arts)

There, in the wings,
The gentle breath of the heavens.
Moonlight's song,
Raven dipping and weaving.
Thorn and bramble dance,
Their bright flesh bobbing,
Tantalizing, a threat full of promise.
Shadows with teeth roam the land,
As the silver scythe rends the clouds.
I hear Her calling.
I fly.
svaenohr: (Default)
Not as good as the one before, in my opinion. But alright.

"The End"
By = Pi (Tristan A. Arts)

In the quiet remains of civilization,
There is movement.
One lone figure, kneeling,
Staring at the sun.

There it sits,
A bright light in a dark sky,
Warming nothing.

Despite his movement,
There is no sound.
He screams, but makes no noise.

He falls to his hands,
Weeping silently.
His fingers trace shapes in the soil.
They are words.
"Abandon hope."

He falls to his side,
Hoping for sleep,
But the pain never ceases.
His lungs are constantly screaming with pain.
Neither relief nor sleep will come.

He drags himself to a nearby stone,
And carves another mark into it.
He laughs, silently, madly;
It has been only a month.

He stares at the sun,
The pain of it barely bothers him.
All that remains is to wait.
Wait, and hope it is not in vain.
Wait, and hope for death,
As his body struggles to breathe the void.
svaenohr: (pale man)
Was trying to log in on the laptop. Entered same password I entered here. No idea why it's not working there, but works here. I am much annoyed.

Fay is thinking that we should try to post more. Get us out in front more often, since she misses us. I have never had much to say here. One thing I did gripe about is no longer an issue. All that's left to me is pining and poetry. Pining is very annoying. Perhaps I try poetry instead. Some of my poems, Fay submitted to Witches and Pagans magazine. They liked it, but didn't need it yet. I forget exact words. But good. I should keep trying.

This just came to me:

"What Remains"
By = Pi (Tristan A. Arts)

The sky turns to blood,
The clouds turn to ash,
The moon becomes a pearl
And falls out of the sky
Into an ocean of oil.

Our voices seek the quiet corners of your soul,
Wriggling around like worms,
Devouring your spirit.

We anoint thy body with the blood of the gods.
We bless thy soul.
We touch thy forehead,
And watch the maggots eat your eyes.

We would weep,
We would mourn,
We would plead,
But who would hear?
There remains only silence.

~ ~ ~

Heh. I think part of why I can write poems so readily, more readily than Fay, is because I don't care as much what a poem means, and I don't care about rhyming. The one above, I do not myself know what it means. It just came to me.
svaenohr: (Default)
Where are the words that used to fly
As free as the birds up in the sky?


Sep. 21st, 2009 03:46 am
svaenohr: (Default)
By = Pyrayton
(AKA Tristan A. Arts)

I shall eat the world,
and shit it out.
Purification through elimination.

I shall eat the sun,
and shit it out.
Purification through elimination.

I shall eat the galaxy,
and shit it out.
Purification through elimination.

I shall eat the universe,
and shit it out.
Purification through elimination.

I shall eat all existence,
and shit it out.
Purification through elimination.

I shall eat my soul,
and shit it out.
Purification through elimination.

I shall eat myself,
and shit me out.
I shall hunger no more.
svaenohr: (mononoke)
I admit, part of this was inspired by the ST:TNG episode about the Iconians. The rest is inspired by my ideal body: an Omni-Daemon can not only shapeshift, but can convert its body into any kind of matter or energy it so desires. Omni-Daemons even have spirit forms; they can drop their body altogether and make a new one from existing matter and energy (dangerous) or can convert their body's energy into pure spirit energy.

"Daemon of Air and Darkness"
By Svaenohr (Tristan Arts)

I float light as a breeze.
A Daemon of air and darkness,
I dance through the sky.
Stars are my stepping-stones,
And I sing with the trees.

I dance like a breeze-blown drape.
A Daemon of heat and flame,
I radiate power into the night.
Logs are my roots, my bones,
And I am devoid of set shape.

I sink into the soil and stone.
A Daemon of earth and rock,
I rest from my exertions.
Within the earth I alight,
And here I make my nest, my home.

I slink serpentinely, I flow.
A Daemon of liquid and life,
I quench the thirst of my brethren.
My patience wears down even rock,
And I have power few can know.

I move at the speed of thought, I Am.
A Daemon of spirit and energy,
I dance through the universe.
Galaxies are my stepping stones,
And formless, shapeless I am.

Small poem

Jul. 21st, 2009 02:44 am
svaenohr: (Default)
I stand there helpless,
(Helpless I say!)
And watch the time
Get pissed away.


svaenohr: (Default)

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