svaenohr: (Default)
"Summer, or 'An Aria of Death'"
By = Pyrayton Svaenohr

The Eye of Sauron's bigger brother burns across the sky,
People bow in worship though it makes us suffer, die.
Its rays like lava acid lasers sizzling on my flesh,
Its screaming radiation song an aria of death.

From the sickness of its deadly heat, a kiln I live in now,
Though I might be cooler as baking clay or barbequed as cow.
Its sickness takes my strength away somewhere I cannot find,
And a molasses river's sluggish flow could now outrun my mind.

I hiss and spit in angry rage and meaningless defiance,
At this evil screaming firey eye, on which life is reliant.
My hatred knows no bounds and my fury's come alive,
I cannot wait for winter, the time that I thrive.

For all the Westerosans speak of winter coming soon,
If they saw this summer's sun, then they would know doom.
I wish to burrow underground, live in some nice cool cave,
Instead I worry summer's heat will bring an early grave.

Damn-ed be the ones who glory in evil's light!
With this verse I curse the sun and call forth the night!
May the black clouds blot the sun and bring about the rain!
May the cooling sky waters wash away my pain!

Curse-ed be the sunbathers, risking melanomal death!
With this verse I curse the sun and call for night's cool breath!
May the grey return unto this land and bring its rain so cool!
May the summer sun begone for good, to curse some other fool!
svaenohr: (Default)
I could clean a highway, or plant a tree,
Or protest a polluting factory,
But I don't have time for all that swill,
I've got shit to do on FarmVille.

Gemini poem

Apr. 3rd, 2015 01:05 am
svaenohr: (Default)
“Gemini”
By = Pyrayton Svaenohr

I have poured out all my blood until dust wheezed from my veins.
I have punctured my soul and drained all its tears until an ocean formed.
I have screamed so loud the atmosphere ignited and burned the world to cinders.
I have lived a million agonies until there was nothing left that could hurt me.

I could drown you in the ocean of my blood and tears.
I could crucify you in Hell and think it insufficient.
I could tear you apart and put you back together inside out.
I could give you a million agonies until nothing else could hurt you.

Bound in chains of white-hot razor wire,
Soulmates via the darkest magics.
Two spirits stitched together like a human centipede,
Forged in agony, breathing burning needles and battery acid.
svaenohr: (Default)
“The Universe Is A Poem”
By = Pyrayton Svaenohr

The universe is a poem of unknowable complexity and size;
We see very little of it with our ears and nose and eyes.
We are deaf and blind and noseless in an eternal abyss,
We would need 1000 senses just to guess something amiss.

We do not hear the chorus in the heavens all around,
The music of the stars as they sing their song unbound.
Nor the planets as they add their own bits to the symphony,
We are deaf and blind and noseless in a vast eternity.

We are as dust mites on the skin of men within a world
Where giants walk among them, mountains getting hurled
In wars even they can't fathom, so how in Hell could we?
And we quibble over silly things like land, ideas, money.

Yet if, somehow, these giants vast cared for us at all,
And tried to speak to us, would we understand their call?
Perhaps the sun screams into the abyss with a roar of plasma fire,
And we pretend there’s nothing amiss, and ignore the warnings dire?

They are great and vast and old, these giants out in space,
And all we are is talking meat in a meaningless rat race.
The universe, it does not care, we are of no importance.
No matter what we do, the giants continue their dance.
svaenohr: (Default)
“The Snake Inside”
By = Pyrayton Svaenohr

There is a snake in my belly, a tightly coiled knot.
It eats me from within, out of fear.
I have carried this snake inside me for decades,
And have gotten used to its presence,
But of late, it has become more active,
More afraid, more venomous,
For reasons unknown to me.

I try to calm it down, to make it relax,
So it will not eat my insides,
But that just frightens it more and more,
Until the beast starts climbing up my throat,
Constricting my heart and lungs,
Burning my esophagus,
Its head a lump in my throat,
Its venom tearing through my body.

The snake inside me writhes,
And I wish I could call animal control,
Or speak parseltongue,
To whisper peace into its soul,
Into my own soul,
Into our soul.
Until then, we writhe in anxiety.
svaenohr: (Default)
Homophobia. Such an unassuming word, a TARDIS of letters.
A word used to make their deeds seem a bit better.
An abuse of language that adds to the crime.
A self-serving, self-righteous waste of good breath.
I have caulrophobia, but I've never beat a clown to death.
svaenohr: (Default)
“Electric Meat”
By = Pyrayton Svaenohr

"I am flesh, and flesh is weak.
I am just electric meat.
And in my brain a quantum song
drags my twitching meat along."

"I am a spirit here for sightseeing,
Literally a human, being.
Deathless energy bound to this earth,
Death not an end, just a rebirth."

Emergent property or soul divine?
Which truth today do I make mine?
Did spirit and matter one day enmesh?
Or is the mind created by flesh?

Is there a difference? Maybe both!
Maybe souls are seeds of growth?
God/dess eggs in meat and bone,
And death is Zir* children coming home?

Either way, the flesh is weak.
Would that I weren't made of meat.
We are too fragile, too close to dying,
We can end ourselves just barely trying.

I want a body that will never know death!
A body that grows stronger with every breath!
“What doesn't kill you makes you stronger” is such a myth,
But what if weren't? I want that, forthwith!

Or if not that, then pull back the veil,
For tis the unknown at which we quail.
Give us the certainty, one way or another:
Total end, or return to The Mother?

I don't understand why we don't understand
How and why we're born to this land!
Why must we have fear, the ground to beat?
Are we spirits in bodies, or just electric meat?

**END**

* = Zir, a genderless pronoun, is pronounced "zeer."
svaenohr: (mononoke)
"I Envy The Stone"
By = Pyrayton Svaenohr

I envy the stone.
It is matter, and thus energy, and thus alive,
Yet it does not think.
It does not feel.
Or if it does, it thinks simple thoughts,
The thoughts and feelings of a stone.
Thoughts simpler than words, or images,
Thoughts simpler than any feeling we can imagine.

So often, when imagining a consciousness unfathomable by us,
We look to the gods, the goddesses.
We look up.
How often do we look down?
What does an ant think? What does it feel?
What does an aphid believe to be real?
What does a stone think and feel?
Is there an answer we can know,
Is there an answer there for me?
Or is it like trying to imagine a color we can't see?

We think we are so smart, we humans,
With our philosophies and buildings,
Our religions and our tools,
Yet we cannot fathom the thoughts of a stone.
So we call it 'inanimate' to cover our inadequacy.

And life as a human is so fraught with stress,
So fraught with pain,
Forever crowded and forever alone,
That I don't want to live in this mess,
Or be in this brain,
I just want to trade places with a stone.
svaenohr: (Default)
"Opposites In Concert"
By = Svaenohr (AKA Tristan A. Arts)

A mist, I float,
Dancing beads of water in the air,
Through cold flames that twist,
And turn,
But do not burn,
Opposites in concert,
Impossibilities enmeshed;
Burning water,
Refreshing fire,
Angry joy, ecstatic ire;
Flying free,
Paradoxical mirth,
Yet also bound unto the earth.

I twirl and swirl,
While standing still,
This paradox of states;
Changing shape and changeless,
I'm a song on the wind,
Singing myself to myself,
In the absolute silence.
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.

"Eater"

Sep. 21st, 2009 03:46 am
svaenohr: (Default)
"Eater"
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: (Red Eye)
"A Fronte Praecipitium a Tergo Lupi"
By = Pi
(AKA Tristan A. Arts)

The boa constrictor is wound 'round my neck,
And I find my hands are bound;
I'm tied to a large stone,
My blood to water the ground.

I am gagged and cannot speak,
Awaiting the final blow;
I could escape this situation
If only I could grow.

I know that even if I escaped,
One side of the rock is by a cliff;
And the wolves that guard the other side
Will not wait for me to turn stiff.
svaenohr: (Default)
Time is the worst enemy.
Let it live, and you eventually lose.
Kill it, and you lose even faster.

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