Fervour Ekstasis

A whisper, like ivy tendrils

Caresses my mind

And makes me shiver.

I see the God in his eyes,

Smell Him in his sweat,

Taste Him on his skin.

I feel Him in his fingers.

My sight turns to mist

And drum beats echo from far away.

I slip, slide from his embrace 

And fall into His

Through smoke and wine and madness.

In frenzy, I feel the need to scream,

To dance, to roar – We are lions! –

The need to tear flesh and wash it down with blood.

I fall from myself

Deeper and madder and to a darker place;

I fall into silence.

I fall before Him,

Desire set upon the altar of my flesh;

My thoughts of Him alone.

My obsession, my dream, my Muse-man.

In bondage to His glorious call

I drink of His inspiration -

Fill me, O God, with Your heat

And when the flames consume me

Lead me to be reborn. 

Horned is the hunter

Horned is the hunter
And horned is the prey
For he who takes the offered life
Is also he who’s slain

He who is the offerer
Is the offering
and the prey’s blood dripping on the ground
In the hunter’s veins does sing

Crowned is the victor
And crowned in defeat
For the life that leaches from the prey
In the hunter’s heart does beat

Summer’s Lord and Winter’s
Death and life, night and day
The cycle carries on and on           
The hunter is the prey

Divine Irony

The gods do dream in mortal shape

And walk among us while we’re awake

Yet while we sleep we yearn to be

Like those who crave mortality

The sorrow we shun within our lives

Our pain, our fears, our hopes and lies

The gods seek out and they embrace

All that which we fear to face

The pain of love, of birth, of death

They yearn to feel with every breath

And while we long like them to be -

They envy our humanity.

Fridge Magnet Anthesteria

You whisper;

       And I -

Joy drunk,

Fall from your mad embrace

Through milk and honey and warm ecstasy.

My blood trembles
And fevered visions flood from your fierce worship

Prayer to the Muses

Sisters of the spoken word

Ladies of all artistry
Nymphs of Mind who ride ones thoughts
Who give and offer, tease and taunt
Born of storm and memory

I call thee Ladies, to inspire
The graceful, glorious, gifted Nine
I Name thee Muses and call ye forth
To imbue my Craft with creative force
To give shape to what I can’t define

A Dream of Apollon

I dreamt last night,

Of hazel eyes

And the smell of bay leaves burning.

You knelt above me

Music in your touch

Playing upon me like on the strings of a lyre.

Blazing like the sun,

Your golden gaze drew me forward

Like a bloom searching for heat.

You tasted of honey,

Parting my lips with your tongue

And setting my flesh aflame with your kiss.

I dreamt of you,

Lying with me in a noon-warmed field,

As sunlight chased patterns over our glistening skin.

I dreamt of you

And woke with the warmth of sunshine

Clinging to my spirit

Medusa, My Love

My Lady of the oceans' steep
High cliffs;
Those built up with
The bones of all who've
Looked upon and seen
Thy face alight and shining bright
With terror,
Beautiful and fair;
And whose eyes that hold
Reflections now of me.
I stare as though, I've turned to stone
Enthralled;
In thrall to thee
I give myself, breath and soul
To thee in offering.
And offer forth my life, my flesh
My joy and suffering,
To gaze from now
To the end of time
Upon thy mystery.