It is finished


It is finished. Yes, this is the last time!
Never again the hook in the mouth, howling
To be cut free. Never again the same

Cage for cooping, wolftrap in wood of wailing.

What ways to heal the grieving heart? These three:
Prayer and fasting and a daily dying.
And if a fourth were needed, let it be
The crowning touch that sanctifies: forgiving.

Forgiveness absolute and unconditional
For all who crave forgiveness and who cry
For meaningfulness and the eternal,
And like the sibyl say—I long to die!

And may this mantra make your anguish end:
It is finished, finished, it is finished!

Happy Lands

"...and the nights are long and thrilling...and the kissing never ends."


They think they’re now in heaven
As they strip off all their clothes
In the pleasure lands of Satan
Where the rose of rapture blows

Where the swooning violins
Sound so sweetly on the air
And the loveliest of sins
Come in answer to your prayer

Where the girls are wild and willing
And the boys your bosom friends
And the nights are long and thrilling
And the kissing never ends

Where there’s no more any weeping
And there’s neither moth nor rust
And the Unborn all lie sleeping
In the happy hills of lust.



Feast your eyes on my beauty. I am the
irresistible. Imagine me Lilith
now. I am the Eternal Feminine.

I am attar of girl in the long green
grass, flowerscent of the feminine wrapt
in the golden silk of the flesh, oozing

oestrogen and the summer’s honeygums.
I am Lilith under the lemon tree,
Lilith lolling in long lapping shadows.

I am imbued with Lilith, drenched with her
dewflesh. I am Lilith come back to life.
It is Lilith you long for. Her longlashed

eyes bewitch you from behind the gold mane
of my hair. She peeps from me. She’s the red
blood, sluicing through my veins like vintage wine.

My smile is her net, my eyes her drowning
pools. Stranger, I am waiting. Speak to me
now. I melt. I am Lilith in liquescence.

I am sea. I am river. I am the
ripe peach of the moon. Oh pluck me! take me
back to the lost gardens of paradise.

Painting: The Birth of Venus, by Manfred von Penz
Dedit mihi Dominus arte mercedem meam et in illa laudabo nomen Eius.


The Keys of the Unseen


It is I
who hold the Keys of the Unseen.
All the treasures of knowledge are laid bare
before me. All images
of time—past, present and future—
I make them,

I weave them
into my web, I cherish them
dearly. Not a leaf falls to the ground with
out my knowledge. Not a blade
of grass grows in the far field un-
seen by me.

Not a snow
drop lifts its head in the shadowed
woods, that does not live its dark secret life.
All things have their histories
written down in Sijjin in the
Book of Deeds.

that can be known, is known. Someone
knows it. I am the one who visits you
at night in dreams, who sees all
you do in the secret room. One
day I will

raise you up
from the dead. You will be with me
where I am, and I shall show you the stained
sheets of your life. And I shall
wash away your sins, and you will
have clean sheets

again. And
your sheets will be shining white as
they dry in the sun on the bleaching fields
of heaven, the dewspangled
fields and sparrow hedges, hidden
in my mind.

I am with you always


where are you
who were here once with me
why did you leave
why have you left me to my raging
never an answer
comes   never a whisper

never a
sigh   never the touch of
a hand on my
shoulder    never a kiss          i never
abandoned you     i am here
in the shadows     i am

wet with your
tears     i sleep in your bed
beside you           see
my face at the window    looking in
at you    my eyes like black holes
beyond me the sunlight

of the sea where are you my darling
in my arms lie
enfolded      be the blue sea in my
eyes      be the sun on my skin
i am with you always


Come gray the days

fantasy_surrealism_landscape_photo_sculpture_photosculpture-p153590902431210096qdjh_4006Come gray the days

Come gráy the dáys and gó,
Long áll go dówn to sléep;
Love álways yét belów
Thís in my heárt I kéep.

Ónce agaín I’ll sée you
Tíme for the fírst agaín,
And sáme the wínd will blów
And ráke us sáme the raín.

Dark Angel

Dark Angel

I am the young and beautiful
none can resist. My mocking mouth
so kissable, my long black hair
a net of darkness from the south

lands of the heart…where passion burns
in men like you, sick with longing
for the heroin of my beauty.
Ache, ache! I can give you nothing

but more addiction. If you take
me, you take damnation too.
I am the angel of burning
frenzy, and the love I give you

is an unquenchable fire.
No cure for you in my caresses.
And never, never, never can
even the wildest of my kisses

give you new life, or bring you back
the leaping seed: the lust you had
in the summerlands long ago
before your eyes became so sad.

The Witch’s Song

The Witch’s Song

Bring back, bring back to me
Wild eyes and wicked mouth!
Bring back my precious loves
Lost in the lanes of youth.

Bring back the necromancer,
The sorceress with her sighs
And the golden girl of summer
With secrets in her eyes!

Bring back the raging moon
And the old, old temptations!
Bring back the bed of lust,
The devil and damnation!


The Graveyard of Dead Girls


These gifts are not given, they have
to be taken. Things come
when you’re ready.
day after day
new treasures arrive from
the summerlands. From the courts of

morning. From the magical lands
of longing. The southlands
of the sun. Two
shalt nots

are now needed:
never to open the
forbidden drawer again, never

again to touch the red velvet
box. This is the first thing.
The second, this:
again to crave
that delicious poison,
never again to hanker for

those addictive toxins, never
to go climbing again
the mountains of
never again
to wander in the waste
lands of lust, panting for shadows.


Succuba Singing

Weep no more, dry your eyes!
Let me show you where peace lies:
In my pussy lies your prize!

Spider, spider, weave for me
Your web of black iniquity
So I can snare my victims three—
Honour, Truth and Dignity!

Laughing, lilting, see me go
Where the girls of summer blow
In the gardens we all know.

In the gardens of delight
Where nobody laughs tonight
But the loathers of daylight.

O In is out and Out is in—
And where we end, there we begin.
The downward road snakes back above
For Evil is the bite of Love.

O aren’t you sick of all my lies?
Aren’t you weary of being wise?
Come, find peace between my thighs!


Dancing Serpent (Baudelaire translation)

“Those eyes like frozen jewels…”

Dancing Serpent

Dear lazybones, how I adore
You in your shining skin!—
It has the shimmer of shot silk
Or frosted hyaline.

Upon your matted mane of hair
As rank as bitter rue
An undulating sea of scents
Wafts billows brown and blue.

And I am drifting like a ship
In quest of distant skies
Dreamily . . .  there oceans roll
And morning breezes rise!

In your blank eyes there’s nothing sweet
Or bitter to behold:
Those eyes like frozen jewels chipped
From iron and pure gold.

*          *          *

Baudelaire: Le Serpent qui danse


Dying slowly


Dying Slowly

Come, keep your heart from breaking
And let your lips be dumb
And learn to die a little
Until I cruel come.

Oh try and smile, my darling,
And learn the ancient art
Of plucking out the dagger
I’ve plunged into your heart.

From sparkling windows

From sparkling windows see
The spires of the New
Jerusalem a-shining.
Here’s no iniquity
To vex or trouble you
Or mar your soul’s refining.

From smutted windows see
The towers of Sodom rise,
The mean streets of Gomorrah.
Here’s no divinity
To undefile your eyes
Or save you from tomorrow.

The Gybroch

THE GYBROCH: A sex demon; a real entity of the hellworlds, a type of incubus or succubus who often assumes human form and eventually devours its caged victims after raping them a thousand times.


As I walked by the Sea of Longing,
The lost sea of Kasmere,
The gybroch flew to my shoulder

And gibbered in my ear.

My blood ran cold when I saw her,
Her long hair lank with brine,
Her wintry eyes like sunless seas,
Her mouth a thin red line.

The moon swooned sickly in heaven
As she bound me to her breast
And turned her wild smoke-pistol eyes
To the Isles of the Unblest.

Her wings spread wide and up we flew
Into the black abyss.
Her grip was hard, her claws were cold,
Her breath a leper’s kiss.

Terror and vertigo! and then—
Down to her wailing castle
On the island of Lalára
In the Lake of Ice Crystal.

She kept me in a hanging cage
Bound with a rubied chain
And brought me strange white breads to eat
And goblets of rare rain.

I will not let you go, she growled,
Until you learn to dream
Of me alone, and be my slave
In the City of the Scream!

I shall keep you here forever
In the queendom of my crime,
My puppet and my plaything
Until the end of time!

You will learn to find a pleasure
In the deepest pits of pain
Till there’s nothing but a howling
Hole of darkness in your brain!

She climbed into my raging cage
And scourged me with her hair
And flung me the blood red rose
Of her cruel mouth to wear

And proffered the poisoned apples
Of her breasts with silken sighs
And turned on the pleasure fountains
Between her feathered thighs,

Until the bubble in her burst
Like a brain round a pistol
On the island of Lalára
In the Lake of Ice Crystal.

Now the moon hangs high in heaven—
Or else it hangs in hell!—
Like the moon in a madman’s painting
Seen from a padded cell.

Lower than this

“Lower than this…you cannot fall.”

Lower than this

lower than this
you cannot fall
the writing is
upon the wall

soon time will tell
if you can see
a sadder hell
than this you be

than this you are
than this become
who once were star
and now are scum