Gargouille

Shark Tank

There was a curse
upon the people
and it fell upon the very land
Evil originates in the heart of man.
There is nothing evil
that man's heart doesn't make it so.
For this purpose
the Son of God manifested
that he might destroy
the works of the devil.
Though the underhanded insults
are nothing new
neither the arbitrary favoritism
expressed in addressing their due -
The dire warning of deceptions
discouraging the travels;
A death never addressed -
It's something they always knew.


There shall be no more curse.



St Jude

[edit on 25-4-2007 by clearwater]

Prisoner's of War -

Out in the forest
under a black sky
speckled with little smiling lights
there is no direction
You're always home.
There are no visitors
it's everyone's abode.
Lost in the forest
is lost in the soul.
Like a congealed wound
dried blood over an arterial
cut, somehow held in place
by those you try to blame
for destroying you.
When the time comes,
they'll stop pinching
stop squeezing
stop holding it down
and allow proud wounds their pain.
Orphaned for meaning
from banking machines.
Paying for the privilege
to dictate and name.
Dictate directions
up, down, north, south -
upside down -
What you put in your mouth,
when, how much
and what comes out -
What makes you happy
and what makes you sad
how much it will cost
to make you feel bad -
dictated down to the last second
ticking on the face of a clock,
as if time were of the essence
it's not.

Keying "Master's" sentiment...."Forgiveness is the air we breath".....



Because trolls are like butt holes,
everybody has one, but you can only do something about your own.

Though turgid the prose admittedly be
and accidental coincidences exploited by me -
Adored from afar, our beleaguered Inquisitor, always seems,
As the poor always hunger for knowledge and free.
Gargoyles are demons, who fight for heaven,
He's seen what he's seen.
Faithful at typing, on her busy keys
Our inquisitor's inquisitive friend inquires voraciously.
Nevertheless, diligent a General's strategy -
Feared and admired with the rodent is she.
Everyone likes susi
More than they don't.
A little bit of Aztec, went a long way,
a blush to make you look away.
Not unlike some of the unlucky back in the day -
Jeered, while carted in an inquisitional way.
One a little impatient with the Roccocco art;
True to sin's ancient name - never missed his Mark.
Likewise, Giddy Sheala na Gig freely guards the gates of Molloch.
An appetite for frog's legs bestowed frivolity.
Rachmaninoff and Beethoven roared to our glee.
Apologies and a flourishing bow -
To buddies cross fired in the row.
Although not my intention to incite uprising -
it would be nice to be seen
a repatriation of Geronimo's bones,
from a legend once dreamed.
Nymph indulgences were delightful
from the greened ones' white dreams.
Thanks, as always, to the Master of Life
also known as the thief.

Blessed Be.

[edit on 29-4-2007 by clearwater]

Dear Sister:
The Inquisitor remembers all of his past lives. Presumably, including the ones, in which he crucified us. He takes himself far too seriously; consumed and emboldened by a strange alchemy.

By felicity of God's Graces, hazard was intervened: In the meantime, I turned the tables on the Inquisition, with witch - "Conducting". Frightful 'French' emails in Mary Shelly's name and an 'Operatic Phantom', joined in the game.

Compiled - poetic afterthoughts of gargoyles and scorpions and the folly of things, (Inquisitor seems to enjoy Ecclesiastes as well as the Rosary)..shares knowledge freely, and there is bread there too...Corinthians and lost cats are always well to do..,

in the long run - 'A Tribute' - we pray, in all the ways tribute mean, with an eye to the Song Sung, on the eighth day - something like a 'Big Bang', on an Inquisitive day.


***


Black Elk revised the resurrection, when he laughed and he joked. Schopenhauer lamented freedom - "A man can be himself only so long as he is alone; ... if he does not love solitude, he will not love freedom; for it is only when he is alone that he is really free." And Schiller relayed - "There's no such thing as chance; and what to us seems merest accident springs from the deepest source of destiny." A poetic tale of clearwater's departures with Frankenkitty, who toys with gargoyles guarding the gate, tiger/scorpions, flights of fancy and dangerous dreams. In light of the supreme self service of poetic pleasure: Some choice phantom of the poopy dread and wonderful things with an eye for the eighth day and the song that it sings.



***


Witch and Inquisitor

In 499 years, 8 months,
13 days, 49 minutes and 15, 14, 13, 12,
seconds -
We might once again play witch and inquisitor.
And the next time
maybe witch will
have the upper hand.

Baptized in the waters of Creation
Risking arguments with trees
dancing lightly on the winds of Thunderbirds
Blessed Be.


***


Rotting Corpse on a Peg

I've planted the huluppu tree in the jungle
huluppu tree, huluppu tree, huluppu tree.
I've ran with the seed in my hand to the jungle
and planted the huluppu tree.
Huluppu cries the serpeant is welcome,
Anzu sets her young on the branches
and Lilith may come and go as she please.
Huluppu tree, huluppu tree, huluppu tree
Enki is robbed of his treasures
they've flown to the jungle with me.



***


A Sucker Born Every Minute


Slam is angry and twice as loud,
offers succor to a drunken crowd.
Hip hop once spoke up for the meek,
Now hanging teats out for a corporate beat.
Imagism fills in color without lines
offering challenge of an anorexic kind.
Lit dim reading rooms and coffee shops
washed-out faces holding tarot cards.
Whimsical women lithe and sweet
blandly rhyming off on the color of leaves.
Nausea and culture shock -
Pulls the chain right out of the top
of the toilet.
Reason sometimes falters and can't go on.
Padre Pio may seem all but gone.
Hunger dogging every step -
wondering how the mess isn't dead yet.
Take time out to write a line
how pride is built on falsehoods and lies -
every accomplishment
Shiny new pennies of the Inquisitor's mint.
Sparked into fire with the Inquisitor's flint.
Flames fed on bones and blood
bearing the weight the crimes -
Christmas, Easter, and all the time.
No sentence, no hope, no voice to tell a
crowd of well-wishers, no water, no place
nothing to live - on, or for, but, Grace.
Luckiest of lucky is a fine joke
because the house never loses
it's the children that croak.
Offer them up to the prison cells -
Scarcity of money
dwindling down from boomer wells.
Sent off to foreign war
sold into slavery as whores.
Pumping it out every night on the net
where husbands find solace from the needs of their wives.
So step right up and hedge the bets
Are you feeling lucky? - There's a long shot ahead -
Better to listen to hearts and not heads.


***


Grief
Never easy with loss, this too shall pass.

No rage for the whimper
that rises up from the chest
and expels itself on a breath
without thinking.
Just a shell that holds the rest
in, a bit of muscle, sinew, skin -
a bit of thinking how it might have been better.
House lights on a final curtain
floods the room with nothing certain
only grief.


***


Goats

Forgiveness Pretty Sunshine
was born into the world today.
Her French mother will call her Soleil
and her English father will obey.
When a scorpion is born
someone dies
and when a scorpion dies
someone is born.
Forgiveness is a Capricorn.


***


Scorpion

Bow down Gilgamesh
To the ending grain harvest -
Hewing the tree of life for Goddess
To build her cage your nest.
Bow down Enki, Dumuzi,
Bow down at Girtab -
Kiss the ground
Claw the earth
To hide there.
Buried as you buried her.
Comes now your harvest
Erishikigal's venom
without rest.


***


Shelah na Gig and the Phallus Worshipers

Julian the Giddy will guard the portal willingly
though the audience low -
Keen moon exuberance
in the dusty misbegotten
halls of the ghost of glory,
where knights fail the grail,
their eyes growing dim
as Julian's brightness grows.
Gardens and doorways
under mistletoe and marriage proposals
blessed be,
Shelah na Gig and the phallus worshipers.
Pomegranate is sweet in Hades
for spanky's giddy na gig.


***


Prisoner's of War

Wild in the forest
under a black sky
speckled with smiling lights
with a direction to abide -
You're always home.
There are no visitors
it's everyone's abode.
Lost in the forest
is lost in the soul.
A stubborn cut
congealed in place
blame always brings a blush.
Spirals and circles
incomprehensibly -
Wondering helplessly -
What's the rush?
Orphaned for meaning
from banking machines.
Paying for the privilege
to dictate and name.
Dictate directions
up, down, north, south -
upside down -
What gets put in a mouth,
when, how much
and what comes out -
What makes it talk happy
and what makes it talk sad
how much it will cost
to make it talk bad -
dictated down to the last second
ticking on the face of a clock
as if time were of the essence
it's not.

[edit on 29-4-2007 by clearwater]

Trolls are like buttholes, you can only do something about your own.

Fearful lore gores the board in turgid prose,
Coincidences belabored and overexposed,
coincidentally.
Fighting for heaven keeps gargoyles on their toes,
As it does our beleaguered Inquisitor.
Draws a crowd, dazzling where he goes
Appetites hungry for secrets to free.
Not a grace bestowed easily
with mutually assured striking.
Faithfully typing, on her busy keys,
Our inquisitor's inquisitive friend inquires voraciously.
Nevertheless, diligent a General's strategy -
Feared and admired with the rodent is she.
Everyone likes susi
More than they don't.
A little of Aztec went a long way -
blushing while looking away.
Not unlike some of the unlucky back in the day -
Jeered, while carted to an Inquisitional stay,
Where some practice spanking.
One a little impatient with the Roccocco art;
True to sin's ancient name - never missed his Mark.
Likewise, Giddy Sheala na Gig freely guards the gates of Molloch.
An appetite for frog's legs bestowed light hearted frock
a frivolity never intended to mock.
Rachmaninoff and Beethoven roared to our glee,
ambrosia and nectar served generously.
Apologies and a flourishing bow -
To buddies cross fired in the row.
Blame if you like, no intent to incite
stews and caterwauling.
Almost like Heaven had seen,
Repatriation of Geronimo's bones,
from a drunk white man's dream.
Nymph indulgences were delightful -
Exquisite pearls are imperfect,
Only good, Always ambrosial.
Thanks, as always, to the Master of Life
also known as the thief.


Blessed Be.



[edit on 15/5/07 by masqua]

Malleus Maleficarum

Spared the Inquisitor -
Fates relay -
a righteous due:
Perhaps
on account of frailty,
surprising to suggest,
though true. -
For,
Natural virtue, is real virtue,
Just as natural beauty is real beauty,
and natural knowledge is real knowledge.
Above and below, ahead and hindsight.
Loins girded in chastity -
We always have light
Across Styx on a fast and a vow.
with a little cat who remembers your name.
Anne takes you down to a place by the water
serenaded by her green field of honey bees and flowers.





The leaf transplanted, a bloodline continued. Beware harm, weighing Witch and Inquisitor.


[edit on 29-4-2007 by clearwater]

Standing on the Water of Mother's Root

Branches for hands and Roots for feet,
Tamed, like Tamora, right into a tree,
Lavinia's so pithy, wooden it seems -
another maid turned into lumber.

Mother
Water, Water -
I'm the Water -
the Amazon
the Tigris
the Nile
the riverbank
the gates of life
the Ob-irtysh
the Congo
the Lena
the blood that flows
the green that grows
the Yangtze
the Huang He
the Amur
Lover.

With well intentioned chivalry,
Fiends hiss and moan, add to misery,
Never superseded by the roar -
Pinched judgments, taken for Delivery.

Driving Clothes

Toffee MacIntosh
Wide, long belt, light buckle
Casually wrapped characteristically
A little high on the waist
Blithely twisted
Quarter length grades
Shades of court yards
In stockings high waisted
Crown always graced with
A hat

Awkward photograph
Blitzkrieg victory
Forest suddenly succumb
Fresh faced from sitting in place
Arguing over the pronunciation of town names
Spying with eyes absurd and inane
Price of gas, cost of a car
Toffee colored MacIntosh
Small pair of lederhosen

Through Appalachians, Laurentians
Atlas and Alps
Islands and Disneylands
Combing beaches, ski-hills and fields
Underground bands, underground bandwidths
Lobster is best fresh
Sun never sets on green fields.

Eye for the view
Go just to see
Building built specifically
Housing a throne
Fresh air, closed
Sparkling lights, while it drones
Humming analogues
Buzzing room moans
Swooning
The way of the Future,
Agreed, agreed
Achtung - Ich lieber die
Water and blood

Back home, priests were hypnotizing chickens
Bonhomme hallucinating
Ice castles, knaves, masters and slaves
Castles and crystalline machinating
Stalemate
War is Over
Soleil springs light on Hades
Cotton candy with Kreskin was free
Hands encouraged, when palms got sweaty
Time passed, geographical vast
Annual secret admiring

Summers, falls, winters,
Spring blossoms blooming
Harnessing rivers isn't easy
Hoover built damns with
Guns, water, blood and greed
like wars waged in the Rod and Ring
Crows clean up after the thing
Eye spy black feathered murders
Out Driving

Cygnus

And hence the gizzard's wizard shall foredoom
The fate of Rome and the fall of the superdome.
Then cease blighted toadstool, to mourn thy ravished hair
plucked to add new glory to a chicken's rear.
Not all fair wiry meshes yanked from a buttock
Draw such curious stares after flummoxed.
For after all the strumming of the bum,
When, after millions thrummed, you yourself must sigh;
When those persistent prongs must prick, as prick they must
Burying pinions with piledrivers, raising the roost -
This catacomb, bees shall abide
and midst the black inscribe Kitty's name.
Rose Perpetua