Vampire News!

GENETRIX TOWER OPENS

Valerius Victorious, Victrix Vexed

The three year battle over control of the vampire community in New Hadria ended today. Solange Auriville of the Council of Metaspecial Interests officially declared the new headquarters of the Genetrix Order open for residents and businesses. This is the first city charter to be given to a vampire organization and makes the Genetrix the official order in the city.

Originally one of the city’s Old Age apartment houses and still the tallest building in New Hadria, Genetrix Tower will now stand as a testament to the vital presence and influence of Hadrian vampires. “This day has been long in coming, but not one of us had any doubts about this action,” Auriville said at a press conference in the Genetrix Tower lobby. “The Genetrix has been an asset to all of us in New Hadria. Yes, they are vampires, but they are also outstanding citizens and great contributors to our society. They have earned this distinction.”

Valerius, called the Prince of the Genetrix and the leader of the Order, has been working closely with Auriville and the Council to achieve this goal. “This is the realization of a dream for my kind. The Tower is a symbol of our strength and our unity. I may have led the way, but I defer to my brothers and sisters for having the courage to share my vision.”

Valerius arrived in New Hadria five years ago. His history and original name remain unknown, in keeping with vampire tradition. But he brought with him ancient knowledge, a philosophy that would spread through the city. He called his way the Genetrix and thousands flocked to him for teaching and fellowship.

But the Genetrix was not the only vampire order in New Hadria. Three years ago Aurelian, the Lord of the Victrix, demanded that Valerius cease his efforts to gain city recognition. Having been born in New Hadria, Aurelian contested that his own group, the Order of the Victrix, merited preference over the Genetrix. Aurelian continued his argument despite repeated rejection from the Council of Metaphysical Interests.

The leader of the Victrix could not be reached for comment, but he did prepare a statement for the New Hadria Crier. “Obviously, by virtue or by vice, Valerius has managed to imprison the Council in his pocket. The city can do whatever it wants. We of the Victrix are not bound by any phony accord. Let the Genetrix enjoy their charter and their fame. We are still vampires and we are still here. We will be the dissenting voice in the crowd. I am no less a champion of my Order than Valerius is of his, and I owe the Victrix nothing less than to keep fighting.”

In reaction to this statement, Valerius said, “I am saddened that Aurelian will not simply come to peace with us. We extend friendship and coexistence. After all, we have much more in common than we have in conflict.”

But today is the day for the Genetrix. As vampires take up residence in its many apartments and restaurants, stores, and services move into the commercial floor, Genetrix Tower promises to become the biggest center of commerce and community in New Hadria.

“This is the start of an amazing future for our vampire citizens,” Auriville said. “From here, nothing is impossible.”

Return of the Corvids

I'm the angel who plucked too many feathers out of her stupidly designed unaerodynamic wings due to a nervous habit and plummeted to earth.

And I'm the daemon who drank so much root beer and managed to giggle myself right up out of hell.

Today, we're your friendly neighborhood corvids...

RavenBlood and RavenBran!

But since neither heaven nor hell, nor angels nor daemons exist...

We don't actually exist either.

So you might want to take what we say with a grain of salt.

Welcome to this, our Statement of Porpoise. Raven, do they have porpoises at Sea World?

Uhhh...dunno Raven. Never gotten to feel around the dolphin tank to see for myself. I never saw the porpoise.

Oh. Well, anyway, instead of posting some lame crapman piece of bureaucratic bullcookies explaining why we are, we figured we'd do it this way. It's kind of like talking to us.

Except you don't get to ask us any annoying questions.

But we'll try and be helpful anyway. Raven, I'll let you handle this one. We're the Osceola Corvids. But I bet the folks are asking, what in Sam Hill is a corvid?

When did I become an orinthologist?

Raven bonks Raven on the head with a spherical cow and threatens to withdraw all sexual favors.

Okay, I give. Raven doesn't play fair. Anyway, porpoises are NOT corvids, so let's get that out of the way first. "Corvid" is a cutesy way of referring to the Corvidae family of birds. It's a big'un, too. But in the Osceola Corvids, we're principally concerned with two birds, the crow and the raven.

Why? Well, mostly because we feel a kind of affinity for these black birds. In the traditions of many cultures, these are creatures of magic, mysticism, and wisdom. Keep in mind that none of us think we're ACTUALLY the birds we favor--although having wings wouldn't be bad.

The subject, Raven.

Well tell me you wouldn't like to be able to fly?

At any rate, the Osceola Corvids are a bunch of creative and fun people who happen to identify with ravens and crows. Usually, a member will take a name for use among the murder (that's our equivalent of "flock") or for when acting as a member. You'll notice that we here are calling ourselves RavenBlood and RavenBran, and you probably deduced that these aren't our legal names. Uh, I hope you did.

Essentially we're all about friends getting together to be creative, express ourselves, and have a good time. Late night gatherings at various Denny's--
--they haven't tossed us out yet, and I applaud them for their tolerance--

--are a typical and frequent event. We're not hard to spot. We'll be the laughing crowd hidden in the back dressed, of course, in black.

The Eric Draven fashion is always popular--you know, the hero from the film, "The Crow" or the hero from the original graphic novel by James O'Barr? Of course no one thinks they ARE Draven, but it's fun to see what Crow statements people devise. The face paint is always popular, and many dress right down to PVC and electrical tape. Others wear their old but loved Crow t-shirts.

Even these two Ravens become Crows. It's not all make-up and costuming, though. We have people show up just as they are in everyday life, and that's fine too. Anything goes--but don't push us, because we do take that literally.
She's not kidding.

We also gather at The Nest, which is our own home. You'd be surprised. Very often we get into reading and/or philosophical discussions. Of course, we also get silly. A favorite activity is watching horror films or even "The Crow" for the millionth time, reciting along with the movie.

So who can become a Corvid? Well, usually we ask an interested person to hang with us and see if they feel at home with us. Interest is really the only requirement, although I prefer if new folks have a good sense of humor. There's no alcohol served at any Corvid function, but I still prefer members to be over the age of eighteen. Frankly, we may get into discussions of things or watch things deemed unsuitable for younger people, and we'd prefer not to get into a sticky entanglement with angry parents.

You understand.

I'm sure.


Pearls of Wisdom

"Well, DUH!"
"It's exactly the same, except almost completely different."
"This is a no-Zen zone for the next fifteen minutes."
"I'm king/queen of my cube!"
"NOT"
"Pro-Fucking-Choice!"
"Happiness is where you are, not where you'd like to be."
"AMAZON!"
"We need more people like us and fewer like them."
"If space and time are curved, then where do straight people come from?"
"Self-respect before respectability."
"We've been too nice for too long."
"That's not Spam, that's my husband."
"Silence is not protection."
"Oh, EVOLVE!"
"I love everybody and you're next."
"Unique, just like everybody else."
"Control your destiny or someone else will."
"Don't follow me, I'm following my bliss."
"Don't piss me off. I'm running out of places to hide the bodies."
"Don't start with me. You will not win."
"Eat right, exercise, die anyway."
"Your village called. The idiot is missing."
"Bubble wrap is cheaper than therapy."
"VEGETARIAN = Lousy hunter"
"So what about the speed of dark?"
"If at first you don't succeed, skydiving is not for you."

Solving School Violence

Do you know what can stop school violence? Polar bears!

I'm not entirely kidding. They need a new habitat and our schools need better guarding. Let's bring in polar bears that are released into empty halls during classes. The schools would have to be kept really cold, so that might take some of the fight out of the blighters. Then if kids are skipping or causing trouble, let them take it up with a hungry polar bear.

After all, polar bears don't know class distinction. They don't care about race or gender. It comes down to hungry or not hungry. How many kids would have to be eaten before the school population got the message to stay in class. One? Possibly two?

The way things are going in Ackerland, is this really any more ridiculous than what's already going on? Bring on the polar bears!

Misheard Lyrics--Nine Inch Nails "Closer"

This is an old story, but a funny one.

The sharing of misheard lyrics has been great fun for decades. Remember back in the day when albums didn't come with lyrics, and you were left on your own to figure them out? Even when lyrics were made available, it was still fun to try and decipher what was being said. "Closer" is the song I remember best in this department. While so many uptight people were having trouble with the "fuck you like an animal" part, I was hearing goofy things.

Well, I always had a hunch that I was wrong, considering the rather explicit and lusty nature of the song. But at my first listen I know I heard "Easter Bunny", as incongruous as it may have been.

Then my compatriots either (a) also heard Easter Bunny, or (b) began hearing "Easter Bunny" because I'd put the germ in their minds. So it was an ode to the Easter Bunny for about two years, mostly because it was such fun

One day a buzzkill NIN fan actually went out of her way to quash the Cult of the NIN Easter Bunny by correcting our version everywhere she could. Granted, the actual lyrics make much more sense, but maybe Trent Reznor himself needs a little Easter Bunny from time to time.

Vampire? Say What?

An Essay
by Emilie J. Conroy

What is a vampire, anyway?  There has to be something more than cloaked gentlemen from Creature Double Feature.  Time to play my favorite game (isn’t it everyone’s?)—etymology!

The Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary gives a tidy summary.  The word “vampire” is of French origin and came from the German Vampir, which in turn came from the Serbo-Croatian vampir.  As for the vampir, it can be a reanimated corpse that rises from the grave by night to suck the blood of the sleeping, or simply a creature that exists by preying on others.

This would be a neat definition if it were complete.  Historians, linguists, and many other scholars trace “vampire” to Slavic origins.  One example is the Lithuanian wempti, meaning to drink.  Another possible root is the Turkishuber or witch, the Russian upyr, or the Polish upior.  In the end, the term came into English from the French in the Eighteenth Century, which is why we have “vampire” instead of “wempti” or “upior”.

Where does this leave the modern real vampire?  They’re not walking corpses and they don’t necessarily prey on others.  One connection I see is longing.  The vampire of lore is drawn to commit certain acts because of an inner need.  Real vampires also have a need, whether it is for emotional soothing, power, awareness, or energy.  We could say that real vampires have needs, know they have needs, and do something to satisfy those needs, as opposed to the usual human who may aspire but never attempt.  What is a real vampire?  Ultimately you may come to your own understanding.

We go from the real to the folkloric entity that binds human societies together.  There are hundreds of vampiric creatures in worldwide legend and folklore.  It’s my conclusion that there is something in the human psyche wired to explain certain occurrences through vampire-like creatures.  In turn, this is a clue as to how the vampire in some form can be found in virtually every world culture.  To me, each creature is more colorful than the next.  Here’s a brief sampling.

In the Philippines, the aswang is an extraordinarily beautiful woman by day.  At night, she turns into a flying monster.  Her preferred prey are local children, but sometimes her blood thirst is so strong that she will feed on anyone convenient.

The civatateo of the Aztec Empire were servants of the central god Tezcatlipoca.  This status was their afterlife reward for having died in childbirth, which to the Aztecs was as noble as dying in battle.  Hideous to look upon, the civatateo were especially fond of feeding on children, perhaps in a kind of revenge for the infants that claimed their own lives.  To a mortal, a child would appear to be dying of a wasting illness.

Appearing in many Japanese folktales, the kitsune is a shape-shifter.  Most often she takes the form of a wild fox or a beautiful maiden.  Sex is her device for feeding from a victim.  The kitsune is also a great prankster.

Lamia was once the queen of Libya.  As punishment for some affront, the goddess Hera slew Lamia’s children.  As revenge, Lamia abandoned her mortal form to drift through the countryside draining the blood of infants.  Later, lamia was any child-killing demon.

The rakshasa is an especially powerful vampire in India.  Its shape-shifting abilities are unparalleled.  At the very least a human can be struck with nausea and vomiting just by passing through the area where a rakshasa has been.  A young boy who, for whatever reason, eats human brains will become a rakshasa.

Greece has an especially rich vampire tradition, and the common name for these creatures is vrykolakas.  They can be created through improper burial, immorality in life, or dying unbaptized.  Everyone who is killed by the vrykolakas will then become vrykolakas.

I can’t leave this subject without mentioning my personal favorite, the Balkan vampire watermelon.  Any object left outside on the night of a full moon was believed to become vampiric, so why not watermelons?  Of course, vampire watermelons aren’t to be feared.  They don’t have teeth, and if they did, they wouldn’t create much horror by biting ankles.  More than anything, they are a nuisance, rolling around and growling at people.  I bet you’ll never look at a watermelon the same way.

Seven "Rules" For The Bipolar Ilk

(1) Don't make rules. Call them suggestions. 

(2) Don't make lists. Sooner or later the sheer order of the thing will get to you. 

(3) Don't make plans. Ironically this is the cardinal virtue of modern Discordian philosophy. 

(4) Don't go home for a quickie with someone who has a state for a first name, a fill-in-the-blank tattoo, a "My other car was a government auction" bumpersticker, or who keeps "50 Shades" on the nightstand. 

(5) Try not to be an asshole. You might not succeed and that's fine. Just try. 

(6) Nobody else really cares how many pees you need to take in one day. Keep the fluids up. 

(7) Don't bother writing to dead authors/actors/presidents or any other figures about how you could do a better job then they did. It's not likely you'll get a response, and if you do, you might want to consult your shrink.

Late Night With Henry Tudor

A little background...I submitted the following to a Tudor parody contest in 2012.  Hence, it's a parody of Tudor England.  If that doesn't really explain anything just do a quick search.

The following is the transcript of a broadcast from March, 1539.

Accompanied by raucous applause, the lute and tambour band break into “I’m Henry the Eighth, I Am” while the camera pans out over a live audience of peasants, cattle, ducks, and armed soldiers.

WILL SOMERS: Live from the Adulation Hall at Greenwich, it’s Late Night With Henry Tudor!  We’re featuring the music of Ned Sackbutt and the Poxy Seven.  Everybody in the crowd!  Get to your feet and sing for your king!

The crowd, both two-footed and four-footed, jump up and sing along with Sackbutt:

I'm Henry the Eighth, I am,
Henry the Eighth I am, I am!
I got married to the widow next door,
She'd been married seven times before.
And every one was an Henry
It wouldn't be a Willie or a Sam
I'm her eighth old man named Henry
Henery the Eighth, I am!

WILL SOMERS: And now…the star of our show!  The guy on the coins…the man God calls for help and advice… that jolly fellow who can feast you today and eviscerate you tomorrow…give it up for your sovereign lord, Henry the Eighth!

Wearing a bold red tunic encrusted with gold and jewels and white hose that would have looked much better on younger legs, Henry sprints onto center stage, the cries and applause of the crowd carrying him to the bonfire-powered spotlight.  Inspired by the soldiers bearing pikes who stand at each end of every row, the crowd continues to cheer for the king.  Henry blows kisses, randomly points at people in the audience, and wallows in the orchestrated merriment.  This goes on for a full ten minutes before Henry decides he is bored.  

A curt wave of the arm advises the crowd to settle down and the band to stop playing.

HENRY: Let’s hear it for Ned and his boys!

The crowd applauds once more.  Ned Sackbutt turns around and waves his lute in the air.

HENRY:  I’m God’s anointed representative on earth, and this is my show.  Welcome!

Applause.

HENRY: Well folks, I’m afraid it’s finally happened. (pause) I have been importuned to marry for a fourth time.  Again.  Yeah, I’m not so wild about it myself, which normally would mean a few executions.

The audience laughs.

HENRY: Apparently my counselors don’t have the same degree of faith in me that I have.  One son just isn’t enough.  I need at least one more son, which means taking one more wife.
God’s troth, I will admit it.  My track record and my Parliament have two things in common.  They both stink and neither is my fault.  Look at my situation here.  I have three kids.  One kid hates me, one kid will hate me when she’s old enough to understand, and the third kid is more like a fat dressed capon in royal swaddling.  So all right, I need another son.  But clearly I’m more likely to become a hermit with Francois of France!

Yet again, the audience laughs.  Everyone knows Henry would tap dance in hell before going anywhere with Francois.

HENRY: The bad thing is that getting another legitimate child means surrendering myself to the bonds of marriage, and I don’t mean the fun kind.  Marriage has swived me like a poxy Scot too.  My first wife slept with my late but lamentable older brother, and by that she was never really my wife at all.  My second wife, well, you heard the tabloids.  She was a succubus, an incestuous witch woman who was no less a threat to my kingdom than a united Holy Roman Empire.  Hey, I’ve always been the premier knight in all of England, and so I slew that dragon.  My third wife, God assoil her, was an amenable and pleasant lump of suet pudding, which was exactly the diet I needed.  I lost her, but I did gain a son.
So here I am, going bride shopping.

Henry turns towards Will Somers.

HENRY: What think you of the matter, Will?  You always have a clever riposte.

WILL: Sire, it seems to me a better thing to burn rather than marry!

All action pauses as the audience laughs, driving home that the remark is witty.

HENRY: All hellish matrimony aside, I have a great show for you tonight.  We’re going to be playing everyone’s favorite game, Treason or Not Treason.

More cheers from the audience

HENRY: After all, folks, what is treason?

AUDIENCE: Whatever you say it is, Henry!

HENRY: Damn straight.  We’ll get into the game in a few moments.  First we’ll have some messages from Tudor-certified businesses that have paid an obscene amount into the royal coffers.  And I just can never say no to money.  Here’s Ned Sackbutt to take us to our first break.  Hit it, guys!

Henry the Eighth I Am, Reprise

ANNOUNCER 1: Enjoy all the eel you can eat for a steal of a deal!  Bring the whole family on down to Pieworthy’s, which has been serving up the best eel in the London area for three centuries.  And now we’re outdoing ourselves with our all you can eat eel buffet during Eel Fest.  Smoked eel, fresh eel, eel and chips, eel in cream sauce, broiled eel, eel pie, eel nuggets, eel pudding, eel stuffed eel, dried eel, and many other eel dishes are available on the buffet.  Remember that it’s nothing but eel for a steal at Pieworthy’s!

ANNOUNCER 2: Like dresses?  Like meat?  Come to the shop that brings both together—Sally’s Sleeves and Beeves!  Give any garment a fashionable overhaul while munching on a fine boiled beef.  Not hungry?  All of Sally’s meats are available in convenient take-out packages—your family will adore you for it.  At Sally’s Sleeves and Beeves, we know what really matters!

ANNOUNCER 1: You stink!  You know it.  Maybe you can’t tell your own stench from the smells of the people around you, but it’s there.  Stop smelling like an aging corpse and get on over to It Makes Scents, London’s own heaven for the nostrils.  Smell great!  We offer pomanders for people from every walk of life, from a studded orange to a gold sphere holding special oils.  We also distill essential oils from fresh herbs and flowers.  Visit It Makes Scents today for a better smelling future!

As the band continues to play, we see King Henry sitting behind a desk and holding a turkey leg.  He looks up and smiles.

HENRY: So Will…

WILL: So Your Majesty…

HENRY: Methinks it would be meet to go right to tonight’s main entertainment.  It’s time for—

AUDIENCE: Treason or Not Treason!

HENRY: Ah, Treason or not Treason. (pauses to take a hefty bite out of the turkey leg) And once again, good folks of my audience, what is treason?

AUDIENCE: Whatever you say it is, Harry!

HENRY: Indeed. (drops the turkey leg on the floor) Ho, Will!  Have we got a villainous trio of potential traitors tonight?

WILL: They look like real scum, Your Majesty—the wasted tears of cursed mothers!

HENRY: Some business before we begin. (Henry leans over to pick up a trencher bowl and starts to chew on one of a number of small birds in the trencher.  He eats for a while and then, remembering the audience, he puts the trencher down in front of him.)  Your sovereign lord is being fed tonight by Kensington Fried Quail.  A secret blend of three herbs and spices!  Freshly-killed quail!  These are some damn good birds, ladies and gentlemen.  Run out after the show and pick up a trencher of Kentucky Fried Quail!  That’s law!

Thomas Timely and the Tower Torturers wheel out three battered and filthy prisoners.  Each prisoner is chained to his own wooden backboard which is styled to resemble the rack.  All three squint in the candlelight of the stage.  The man on the far right manages to mouth “Hi mom!”

HENRY: Thomas Timely, how are you sir?

THOMAS: I’m well, Your Majesty.  But as you know, what happens in the Tower stays in the Tower!

Everyone bursts into patronizing laughter.

HENRY: I like that.  I may take it as my new motto.  But let’s start with Wretch #1.  Thomas, please tell us the charge leveled at our fettered fiend here.

THOMAS: Your Majesty, this is Arkel Slopsmith.  He is accused of saying, and I quote, “I like sheep.”

A unified gasp issues from the audience.  Henry turns to the shocked audience. 

HENRY:  Ladies and gentlemen, what is treason?

AUDIENCE: Whatever you say it is, Harry!

HENRY: Darn tootin’.  So let’s think on this cryptic utterance.  “I like sheep.”  Sheep are fundamentally opposed to everything royal, which makes sheep my own enemy.  Sheep are weak.  Sheep only follow.  Sheep give us wool, but I’d gladly trade my wool codpiece for a good slab of mutton.  I find that sheep are shifty, dishonest, deceptive, manipulative, and untrustworthy.  Therefore, when Arkel Slopsmith declared his admiration for sheep, he was also indicating his approval of these traits while implying his disapproval of me.  Treason or not treason?  I declare this to be treason!

A roar of applause rises from the audience.  Ned Sackbutt leads his band into the Late Night standard “Condemned for Treason.”

WILL: Arkle Slopsmith, thank you for playing Treason or Not Treason!  You’ve won a one-way trip to exciting Tyburn and an appearance in the mass executions of Tyburn Tuesdays!

Slopsmith is left to his sorrows while the onstage focus shifts.

THOMAS: Your Majesty, have a look at Wretch #2.  Grover Stinkinbishop is an apprentice in a Thames barge transportation company.  He is said to have stated, and I quote, “The Thames used to be cleaner.”

Henry shakes his head, clucking in distaste.

HENRY: You foul knave, you did not even bother to conceal your contempt for your sovereign.  You have dared to suggest that what has come before me was somehow better than the conditions of my England.  I have dirtied God’s own water of the Thames as surely as I have polluted the spiritual streams of my beloved England.  We’ll continue after these messages.  Watch them.

ANNOUNCER 1:  Have you paid good coin to be bled or leeched?  Was the treatment worse than the ailment?  Did the treatment cause pain, blood loss, demonic possession, allergic reactions, or loss of limbs?  Are you buried in debt and looking at a long stint in debtor’s prison?  Stop wasting your time and hire me!  I’m Will Bill, master of law, and I’ve been fighting for people like you for almost a full year.  Together we can bring quack physics and soiled surgeons to their knees.  Don’t delay!  Send a messenger today!  And remember I get paid whether we win or not.

ANNOUNCER 2: Now let’s hear about a tasty new snack!

It’s a banquet!  It’s a munch it!

Try Blackmanger in a Biscuit!

You can pop it!  You can chew it!

It’s Blackmanger in a Biscuit!

Get the taste of that special treat

Why steal bread when you could eat

Blackmanger in a Biscuit?

New Blackmanger in a biscuit is available at your nearest Hal8 convenience market!

HENRY: We are back with the loathsome Grover Stinkinbishop and I am about to declare my conviction.  Treason or not treason?  I declare this to be treason!

Again a roar of applause rises from the audience, and Ned Sackbutt leads his band again into “Condemned for Treason.”

WILL: Grover Stinkinbishop, thank you for playing Treason or Not Treason!  You’ve won a one-way trip to exciting Tyburn and an appearance in the mass executions of Tyburn Tuesdays!

Attention turns to the third prisoner.

HENRY: Thomas, what about your third prisoner here?

THOMAS: As you wish, Your Majesty.  This is Rhys Wynwyn, the Welsh wit who coined the phrase “a win-win situation.”  But things have soured for Rhys.  He is reported to have said, and I quote, “King Henry is an overblown goofball.”

The crowd swarms into a sea of angry voices, but Henry only laughs, and gestures to the audience to take their seats.

HENRY: Methinks you will all be most surprised at my decision.  This man obviously understood that his statement was ludicrous, for what fault can any man find in me?  I answer only to God.  He could not have believed that anyone would think him serious.  Twas but a jest, everyone.  I know it.  And therefore I declare that Rhys Wynwyn is not guilty of treason against me.

The band launches into “Henry the Eighth” yet again as Thomas frees the prisoner.  Henry takes center stage again.

HENRY: Well, that’s our show for tonight.  We’ll be back right here tomorrow night, when I’ll be interviewing the minds behind Misrule Instant Frumenty.  I’ll also be playing my newest song, a ballad to my unknown Wife #4.  My gratitude for the loyal subjects that help me put this show together night after night—Will Somers, Ned Sackbutt, Thomas Timely, and the Poxy Seven!  Have a wonderful night, and remember how luck you are to live in the England of Henry the Eighth!

Springtime Poetry Fits

For the most part, I'm known for my prose.  But every now and then the Muses demand an offering of the poetic variety.  Who am I to argue?

One tribe
One heart keeping tempo
Life on Mother Earth
Join now in a ring of lights
Constellation Mankind
Sparkling blue orb
Spinning through anything's possible
Joy in the returning sun
Return to joy in one another
Celestial, terrestrial, humanity
"Respect for the rights of others
Is peace"

The Rotted Womb
Kick me
I'm a bogtrotting faeriedancer
No use as a vessel, not worth the hassle
Damn it
I'm still a woman
Still a mother, still a cynosure
Children still need
Even this bogtrotting faeriedancer
Nothing of the fruit of the body
Which can never grow in such saline soil
Maybe this world needs more universal mothers
Damn it
I'm still a woman

All In One
I am the sun
I am the consort
I am the companion
I am the healer
I am the comfort
I am the teacher
I am the lover
I am the wind
I am the touch
I am the laughter
I am the daughter
I am the hope
I am the sun

Reality Check
They tell me I cannot be that which I am
Scream I hunger jaded far and away
Safely entombed from the ugly light of day
You want me you hate me you fear me
Hunger to be me thorn within me petty slave
I'll tell you what I cannot be
Does love taste as good as hate?
Cocksure of my own salvation dawn
If I kill you will I quench this lust?
Scream I hunger jaded far and away

Fresca
Every inch a symphony
Drink of the lips I call my salvation
No cold nor heat only starscape thought
Lying sacred next to me
A Great Rite of our own kind
All this silence yet so much within
Did I earn this embrace?
Every inch quivering
Welcome home, weary one.

Ballad of Peyotera and Mescalito
Attend the song of the desert
Roasting sands heating passion's fire
The rattles shake sex's beat
What is naked, what is nude, what is bare
Halos of the sun turn tricolor, rainbow
Peyotera stretches out her arms
Tongue most with pulque yet craving satisfaction
She reaches for Mescalito
Pulling him to her fine breasts
The spines of Mescalito enter Peyotera
Piercing her good flesh, drawing her sweet blood
Now see Mescalito become Peyotera
He offers forth his divine white discs
Taking the universe in hand, knowing
"A little blood is worth the trade."
Peyotera and Mescalito understand
Mind filled from the astral font of everything
They swim in Aztec-colored splendor
Wrapped
The sun bloods sky and sand
Blood turns black and still they swim
"Will the Diableros run wild this night?"
"They know us, they are us, have no fear."
Mescalito rests deep, throbbing and full
Through the eagle's eyes soar and swoop and plunge
Less a thing of flesh, more a ray of light
Desert and Spirit
Enough of this world, let it be us.

Ess Tea Oh Pea
aRe You N
oT Think-
ing
Sin-king
LoCk thAt Aspir-
in-between your knees
ASK
THINK Beforewarned
do it
Oh, Baby.
OH! BABY!
Might he? HIPPO-CRITE!
MiTT-ends aren't GOOD ENOUGH
Remember Ae-Eye-Dee-Ess
Keep Your-Self
To Your-Self


Azrael came to me that day
That globe of ice and snow.
“This is his final illness,” he told me.
And I replied, “I know”.

“That he continues on this moment
Is not of Nature’s make.
What is soothed by this circus?
How much more suffering must he take?”

I cannot deny the tears in my eyes
Knowing there was nothing I could do.
Azrael offered release from this pain.
I said, “How you speak true.”

Azrael looked at him then
His jewel eyes filling with tears.
He joined me in weeping
For a man who had suffered for years.

Azrael came to me that day
That globe of ice and snow.
“This is his final illness,” he told me.
And I replied, “I know”.

Suntide
Color drops against fresh green
Revel in this time of glitter
Angel feathers brush on a crisp wind
The suntide heart beats in every light
Promises made and kept and made anew
Join hands in the shining circle
To be loved, love
Hints of spice and sugar
Hold fast, for suntide is yours
Embrace and be one with the warmth
Take flight into the rays of hope


CTHULHU!
Who art in R'lyeh
Exalted be Thy name!
Thy Empire come
Thine will be done
On land as in ether
Give us this day our daily lives
And revel in our follies
As we revenge ourselves upon those against us
For Thine is the Empire and the Power and the Glory
Of the Ancient Ones and of the day
Forever and ever and ever ad infinitum
HAIL CTHULHU!

Consequences
Believe that you shall get back what you give out
YOU HAVE BEEN WEIGHED
Believe in the obligation of your voluntary agreement
AND FOUND WANTING
Believe that you will be accountable for action and inaction
BY THE POWERS THAT BE
Believe that a concord is not a joke
THE SCALES WILL BE BALANCED
Believe you can expect reaction

Call of the Morrighan
Sons and Daughters of our Great Creatrix
Hearken to Me
I am a creature of the night
An angel of the shadows
I have taken my sip of Eternity
From Her appointed chalice
You need have no fear of the outside
In numbers we will find strength
Reach out to Me, I shall take your hands
Look to the West and raise your sword
Call Me away from my abode upon Saturn
From within the Womb of Time
Children, you are no less than I
You are vampire
You are the energy of the universe
Death, Fate, and Chaos shall favor you
Always in My name
By the Morrighan, have naught to fear

Ourobouros
Change into change into change
End cycles beginning cycles old cycles new
De-constructionist
Dehiscience
Run from the seeds
Run from the shadow
What is death to me?
Apocalypse
Baseline of eternity
Tempo of time itself
Maybe the end, or the evolution
Difference rendered null
Metered not by grace
But by a crooked smile
Laughing at, laughing with, just laughing
What is death to me?

Virgin Huntress
Melissae! Melissae!
Stand proud!
Beloved Artemis embrace me
To be a whole woman unto myself
Hail the chaste moon
The wild hare
Total complete satisfied and full
Virgin Huntress
Bless me in purity and light
Guide me well
By your unerring bow
I walk the path of me
Crescent aim crystal complete
Beloved Artemis embrace me

Twisted Girders
My tears have bled to concrete
Drawing lines in sands of iron shillings
Scars boast of battles fought and won
But never forgotten
What can be fixed when the pain is done
And the time is too late?
The agony festers
And I lay here, dead in my soul
Condemned to decay for loving too much
Wounds too deep, too thorough
To hope of healing
I turn to ice, I turn to iron
So hard to believe a joyous heart
Can shrivel to nothing
How tragic, how tragic, oh what a shame
What a stupid waste

Lady Bitten
Beautiful youth, why won't you look at me?
Nothing to fear, nothing to fret, only my face
Witness the caterpillar now embrace the butterfly
Look at me! Am I not fair?
My age is long but not so crippling
If the years are cruel, shattering my heart
I only want to gather you and celebrate you
In body so near in spirit another cosmos
How can a woman grown entice you?
The youth inside me yearns
Know that I tremble before you
A lady become a little girl
Can you ever understand the power of affection?
By love of earth and sky, just look at me
Let me see once in your eyes the fascination I know
I am a lady bitten by the soul in your eyes
Allow me to share my new wings

Requisite Darkling Poetry

Pseudobride
Alone or alone or alone
For where has he gone
Wordless, timeless, shameless
Tears resist in their bastion
No evidence of a shattering soul
Hours ago his love was true
Innocence scorned
She sees all from her sepulcher
Left alive after the slaughter
Who was beloved has rotted away
Love mutilated by design
May just as well be in his grave
Entombed with her trust and respect
Some moments have no recourse
In time too are they buried
Bride awakened to be a woman
Dead dreams breeding better hopes
Pink is not her color
Killed once, there is nothing to fear


Bottom-feeding bitch, get out of my life
Take your skank to someone who cares
Or are we running out of those?
Hey, I gave a fuck, and you took that fuck
You abused it like a drunken baboon
Now you're outta luck
All right hound, this is my kennel now
And you're not wanted here--do you get it?
I'm not peripheral, that would be you
Were you spoiled or spoiled like bad meat?
I might have cared but that ship has sailed
You don't know whom you're dealing with
What the hell can you do to me?
I've been through death, hell, pain, chaos
And denial was never my charted path
Enough crap and more, just get on the road
Go find your fortune because it's not here
Every lie forges another link
A chain wrapped securely around yourself
Glean your dignity and make yourself scarce


They tell me I cannot be that which I am
Scream I hunger jaded far and away
Safely entombed from the ugly light of day
You want me you hate me you fear me
Hunger to be me thorn within me petty slave
I'll tell you what I cannot be
Does love taste as good as hate?
Cocksure of my own salvation dawn
If I kill you will I quench this lust?
Scream I hunger jaded far and away


Change into change into change
End cycles beginning cycles old cycles new
De-constructionist
Dehiscience
Run from the seeds
Run from the shadow
What is death to me?
Apocalypse
Baseline of eternity
Tempo of time itself
Maybe the end, or the evolution
Difference rendered null
Metered not by grace
But by a crooked smile
Laughing at, laughing with, just laughing
What is death to me?


My tears have bled to concrete
Drawing lines in sands of iron shillings
Scars boast of battles fought and won
But never forgotten
What can be fixed when the pain is done
And the time is too late?
The agony festers
And I lay here, dead in my soul
Condemned to decay for loving too much
Wounds too deep, too thorough
To hope of healing
I turn to ice, I turn to iron
So hard to believe a joyous heart
Can shrivel to nothing
How tragic, how tragic, oh what a shame
What a stupid waste