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Similar Deviations
Like the frosts spread across valleys silent and dreary
Ever my longing lost in shimmers of shadow & wind
And days bled into years.. the tides became deserts
Thru seasons untamed, I hunted and found her gaze,
peering in a song deep and hallowed
Horizons quivered like ghosts cast in Winter’s dream
— where hearts once bloomed a fabled sky
Lest the Moon would bestow solace upon my dread:
I am but madness, haunted by her solemn breath
My soul shall yield to this mythic abyss —
wandering forests bereft of Autumn’s decree
We are warriors in a ballet of snow darkly falling;
betwixt worlds forgotten, and lives entombed ...
‘Whispers in the mist — two spirits — forever calling

— Arthur Crow © 2013
This short poem was inspired by ‘Etain’ from Centurion

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And lo there he said: "I am darkness rising"
— ‘an apparition bleeding into a dreaming sky
Distilled in the timbre of windswept voices,
black feathers enchant earth in fevered-song
Magick ebbs & shimmers thru earthen veins,
seething like a migration of hungry wolves
Silvery eyes peer, drinking the ether of souls;
watching the spirit world fold into the mists
And where Shadows and Witches conjure,
— myriad talons beshrew Winter’s prayer

For eons I hath wandered in forgotten lore  
— a sleep walker thru ash & fire, hunting ..
Beneath Moon solemn and drifting,
I covet thy ghostly figure velvet, undressing
Pools of amaranthine spill from mine eyes
Her ebon hair dripping in the evening tide
I rest my lips upon visage of thy fabled kiss
Thou art my darkest Witch — the wilderness
of a thousand spectre’s lusting ...
And unto this primeval calling, we shall seed

Poised in hallowed nightscapes caressing,
I brood and ponder ....
"Gallow the priests!" – whispered the Crows
For restless are the arms of serpentine trees’
Nocturnal civilizations prevail'd ravenous!
The season of the Witch: ‘our naked eternity
We are but phantasms, lovers spellbound,
til dust is memory; yet time a jewel forsaken
Whenever the Moon bleeds, seek you me
— darkly dreaming, under a Witches’ sky

— Arthur Crow © 2013
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Glistening feathers,
Blacker than the darkest night
A specter weaving through the clouds
Majestic is his flight

So beautiful,
Piercing eyes reach into my soul
From the netherworld he will come
When I am no longer whole

An enigma,
Spawned from the magick of old
In a lingering mist he waits
Cast in velvet shadows so cold

Silent wind,
Roses fall upon my grave
Talons clasp my fading spirit
A fallen love will he save

Shrieks echo across a leaden sky
Life descends to the arms of death
Scarlet tears begin to fly

Memories my heart cannot sever
Broken dreams whisper
real love is forever

Arthur Crow 2012
One of the first poems I ever wrote, many Moons ago...

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Upon one Night's tempest, my hunger did beckon ever darkly:
"In nomine dei Nostri Satanas Luciferi Excelsi!"
And in the perfume of immortality, I bathed deep and long ....

Within the labyrinth of melancholy, I am the black flame gleaming;
befallen in the mist when closed thine eyes
Harken thee, River's blush weeping scarlet in nocturnal ballad
In orphaned prophecy, I am the lust of sacrament
dark enchantment wanton Hade's syrup undressing in your soul
I have crossed oceans of time, haunted by thy gaze and lips,
lost in whispers of passion dripping like song into folding horizons
Eons spent, yet thy figure dark, I crave solemn upon Raven's call
For thou art the breath of a rose entombed in velvet-nightfall ...

'Our lives are but confessions of beasts and things forsaken;
woven into a bloody tapestry of a Lover's fable
My wound is the requiem of the sky, the exodus of daylight
Across sanguine fields I hath sojourned, coveting winds sable
Seek you me, for eternity would surely fade, lest I drink you deep
Intoxicated by your love; rendered by shadow and plutonian lore
Here I shall rest in the netherworld, unto dreams decay evermore

Arthur Crow 2012
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Sometimes my breath catches in my throat
and the very stillness of an earth going
a thousand and three miles per hour
gets lodged there.

Sometimes these simple exchanges
leave me breathless, croaking on dust:
the unfiltered pigments of other people's skin
and blood and ash

but with my tarred lungs and itchy eyes
I sit and sift through charcoaled remains,
alphabetising them from c to c. I am lost
in a world charred brazen.

Many things I have loved have turned to ash.
Many people. I was naive enough to think
that there was some perfect nutritional truth
that could outlast hell-fire.

I claw through a world turned ashen
and know those dead embers collect in my cells
They are the harbingers of a truth
I do not want.

The skittish earth throws its skirts about again
to unsettle us all, and I am unsettled
Alone in the dirt, organising piles of bone-dust
and realising

he did not love, at all.
I'm just going to point this out right off of the bat, because otherwise I know I will get loads of comments about it. In this poem the world has not ended because of a man not loving the narrative voice. Okay? The 'nutritional truth' I wrote about is the concept of love being able to overcome dark places, including this dystopian world. The poem, FOR ME, is about realising that maybe that was dumb to believe.. the poems about, not being able to move on. From death, from loss of any kind including break ups yes, its about having your bubble popped and realising the world is darker than you thought it was - and I already thought the world was pretty dark so yes you get a world of ash from me.

It's about trying to organise pile after pile of the same pain that all merges into one and its surrounding you and individually they are very s mall but together they are insurmountable. Because thats what my life is like, and probably many other peoples lives. Maybe everyones lives, I dont know.

It's a poem about growing up. Growing harder. About wincing when someone raises their hand because you assume people are going to hurt you. Its about believing in love, and getting your heartbroken. but for me, the reason the world turned to ash in the poem isnt BECAUSE he doesnt love her, its because she can't believe it. she cant believe the world could be such a horrific place, so she tries to make things out of piles of ash, and nothingness and tries not to think about all the horrific evidence there has been in her life that people just fucking suck and life hates you and wants to kill you.

It's a poem about trying to reshape your entire world after someone blows it to fucking pieces, and takes back the love, the security, the self stability, the rug beneath your feet. It's not saying she needs him to survive or that if a guy breaks up with a girl then she can't cope. When a break up happens, your world perception can change too, and THAT change in your life, in your head, can be excruciating, but no body will talk about it because they only hear you talking about your ex.

Well I love my ex, he knows that. He doesnt want me. I dont know why but I could hazard about a million guesses. Its irrelevant. What is relevant is that my view on myself and the world has changed, because of being with him and because of him leaving me (in about equal measure) and I'm facing a whole new world.

and if you tell me that 'a woman shouldn't need a man to validate herself' then you are over simplifying my words and so help me god... I am tired of hearing it. Yes, I miss him. But what I miss more, is me. Can anybody understand that?

P.S. recently someone called me pessimistic. I don't think I am. I think every poem I write has an element of this. A lost, helpless little girl trying her damnedest to make things right for herself and those she loves, even in really dark scary ugly places in the world. I'd say its pretty optimistic for me to have even stayed alive so long. That's just my opinion though.

P.P.S. April is a super emotional time for me so I will be ultra sensitive, so I apologise deeply deeply deeply if I offend anybody when I react to things. I don't mean to be rude. : ( I'm sorry!

Poem's notes

"a thousand and three miles per hour" This isn't quite accurate. I think its 1038, but this sounded better and it varies depending on which latitude your at anyway so for some people this is correct I suppose. Whoop!

"c to c. I am lost" sea to sea. big space.
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Little red house on the corner left to fade
Tire swing swaying above a sparkling blade
Silver gown, just for the hour
Starts out sweet then you taste the sour
A little girl's heart doesn't last for long
When a little girl gone right goes horribly wrong
One little fall means blood on the breeze
Little red house with a ghost to please.
Thank you :iconrunswithbooks: for the last two lines :) Check out my facebook to end my poems!! [link]
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Those seasons famished in myriad dreams;
Long of quests in realms of Fae ...
For yet a feast of forest wine I would adorn,
Or beyond pleasures dressed in valleys rich
Gardens of sweet Avalon digress —
Where thy gaze painted embers in my soul
Unto her lore, I pursue and caress
To Autumn’s decree a world hath been slain!
Then Nature’s magick whispered above:
‘And forever the stars shall wander untamed,
like a fable of thieves lost in the wind’

Laments of twilight sweep with promise ~
And over the enchanted I hath prevail’d!
Where I am but a dream, within her dream

— Arthur Crow © 2013
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And he rose like a dream shrouded in obsidian
“Blood the sky!” – bewailed ravenous eyes ..
‘Upon a world solemn; and the dead betrothed
Where lust a river dark, my ache roams wild
Many moons spent wither’d in winds dreary;
naked in breath of whispered-flame & wine
O’ darkly I hear thee my beloved enchant,
thy seraphic-tongue dripping in Night’s mist
Thou art the evening tide flooding my soul,
— gossamer-wings of a gothic serenade ...
Seek you mine lips in a song of shadows
For in immortal sin we shall not wane
Unto a sea of crimson, my love hath assail’d
From Earth to tomb, I am death & hallowed

— Arthur Crow 2013
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Speak to me in roars and booms like thunder,
To inspire wild visions in wonder.

Or whisper like the softest breeze in spring
Of a scholar who overthrew the king.

Debate in Fauvist colours, shamelessly bright
And dare to make sunshine in the dead of night.

Shout and scream, hoarse as the Bedlam inmate
On the dagger-sharp edges of cruel fate.

Lie to me in dull dreams like a trickster god,
Tell tales where I can spark like a lightning rod.

Murmur in tones from falsetto to baritone
And make the planets rumble with a song of their own.

Sing to me more skillfully than an opera star,
Like an angel but holier by far.

Laugh like Balder before the arrow struck;
Confident, easy and just out of luck.
                But don't stay silent.
I wasn't sure whether or not to separate the couplets, but I thought it might make the theme of talking clearer...
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O’er desolate shores wept the fate of immortal flames
And into a Winter sun I bleed my dreams,
as a thousand years of love & war dressed the sky
Long-ships sailed to the otherworld upon Odin’s breath
Betwixt night and day I wandered, shimmering, peering
— Till my chalice of Dragons blood flowed but no more
I became a warrior lost in the stars, drifting, ever falling,
Until the shadows entombed my soul in Raven-lore

Lo the tempest eerie; ‘magick entwining spirit and flesh
Upon snow I awoke dreary, beneath winged-silhouettes
‘Couldst be, my Princess adored; — last of the Valkyrie!
I recall — myriad of black feathers in leisured-dance,
And our love soared ravenous unto darkness befallen
From the frosts of creation I wrought gloom and desire,
Bore the tongue of fevered winds thru oceans of time
Here thy whispers feasting, I linger, clad in mists of fire

O’ we have lived, in the arms of shadow and vapors
We have sung, in fields of nightmares and dreams
And we have loved, in the twilight of Freyja

Behold! The Norse winds howl — our passion seeking
Let a kiss undress the Night of our souls, I implore!
Dark ash slides in Raven-song across Sun and Moon,
Amethyst blood streaking thru snow, gleaming fiercely
The ether of worlds fabled besiege my blood flow —
All hallowed is the Raven! ‘Spellbound o’er gothic skies
Lo the rapture of gossamer wings, ‘velvet shades covet
— Ballets, darkly and wanton — till the morrow cries

At thy soft-ghostly figure seraphic, hungry and dripping
— caught my breath pondering in Acheronian lore
Echoes of funeral pyre caress cloud & mountain peaks
Thine gaze cast upon me — sinking deep to the core
Plumes of sweet obsidian encircle, waiting, dreaming
‘Enchanted,’ Said she, with silver gleam in her eye
Unto the great halls of Valhalla we shall make haste,
— Jeweled in eternity — ‘where the brave never die

— Arthur Crow © 2012

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