Sunday, 8 March 2009

...Cruel Beauty...


Could it be true?
Was she the tormented one that stole the night?
Was she the evil of which we dare not speak?
The soul that cursed the men of yore
The little maiden with the heart of poison and no soul
The maiden whose beauty was unmatched
A marvelous creation of the god unknown
Blistering beneath the moon of vice

No man withstood her trial of survival
Meeting their doom after one glance into her eyes
Drowning in insanity, for her angelic posture was beyond comparison to anything of mortal race
A figure trapping the lads in their imagination
Their fascination and belief to make her of their own

But what cruelty was it that all had failed
And none have won her love
Her love that echoed agony and misfortune with it bound

I was not different from all the rest
Enchanted by her marble chest and velvet skin
Her flowing silken hair
That softly touched the crimson gown
And her mystifying emerald-green eyes
Filled me, with enchanting wonder

We met beneath that same old maiden we called moon
And blessed were by the spirits of the night
Embraced each other and left no place for reason
Drunk on emotions and desires to join our souls for ever more

We stood for what seemed an eternity or more
Bound by our senseless love
Guarded by wolves and creatures I never before seen
Covered by mother-nature with her quilt of snow

In me she found compassion, innocence and fear
In her I sought danger, power and the lust
Trading the missing pieces of life’s puzzle
We reached a sense divine and love prior unmatched

Now what’s this feeling in my heart?
Ripping sensation I have never sensed
And what’s that falling from her eyes?
Liquid diamonds sparkling in moonlight

We cannot be each others comfort
Our blood must never mix
Virtue and Vice a pair won’t be
Neither will death embrace the living

Her scent on me is present still
Scent of empowerment and lust
To hold in memory forever
As her presence still haunts all mankind

What form will she embody in the future?
A mild, and meek creature of the night?
Waving her beauty as a status of divinity
That will destroy her prey to dust

Her presence necessary always will be
Since light without shadows holds no sense
And all the good will lose its value
Without the battling evil that she casts

Mankind cannot live in harmony among each other
It needs a constant fiend to battle
And it is she who always will remain the target
Of mankind, present future and the past

Still screams haunt my sleep
But poisoned nectar within me stirs
So I may never again sing
For beauty is always cruel, unkind and unforgiving!

3 comments:

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  2. Nice. I like "Blistering beneath the moon of vice." If you're interested in this type of poetry (sometimes called "decadent" with no pejorative meaning), I recommend Lautreamont's "The Songs of Maldoror," the writings of Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, and the inimitable Aleister Crowley who was, at one time, associated with the Golden Dawn society (with W. B. Yeats, remember?) and also with other famous figures of the time. Fascinating but very controversial creature.

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  3. I have read Aleister Crowley...
    He is always mentioned in any good Occult book...
    But i will make sure to check out the rest...
    Glad you liked it...

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