Well, I’ll remedy that!

Here’s a Sample From

Prescient Remembrance: Dialogue of a Vampire

Dedication

lying high up in the mountains,
where is brewed the thunder 
and in fair weather 
the dragon sleeps.

Ours is not a lot to be feared. The dragon is a necessary beast
immeasurably deep.

juvenilis puerilis vanitas ostentatio jactatio

Feel Your Prescience

Feel your safety on your holy ground.
Suckle on the myth of your goodness
in those cruciform places you hold sacred,
while I suckle
on the rest of humanity.

We do not follow you to those places
as we cannot
do those things which are conquerable,
and simply cannot bear those places where you sing.

Those places do not protect you.
Enslaved gargoyles,
traitors to us lest their unknowing feet
entrained in those stone shoes that you fashioned,
and an occasional bellringer stroking them
as they drone high above your path,
where the wind is stronger than the scent of your life,
keep us circling above,
intent on your storied portals,
those lists of the best tasting among you.

     Angels.  You misname them.
     They are simply prettier to you
     than their gargoyle siblings
     held down by those enslaving prison-shoes of stone
     that you call cathedrals.

     You should know,

there have been sly ones among you.
Those tricky Nassenes for instance, 
knowing that in our vanity we will not touch our young,
as we, too, find them abominable,
stole away with nine of them,
worshipping them as they grew,
carrot-leading them:

     You are perfect as you are . . .
     Grow strong not beautiful . . .
     Help keep us safe . . .
     Up there you can see eternity.       
     Live up there . . .
     Turn to stone, it is strong . . .

Ignorant of their heritage,
of their eventual grace and stealth and eternity,
they were taught to perceive a strength and power
in your piles of stone conveniently shaped.
    
     Behold Us!
     We are strong and beautiful.
     Can you resist us?
     Gaze into our eyes and see inside your universe.
     Touch our skin of winter,
     and feel the heat of your passion
     pulsing in the silence of our bodies.
     
     Peeking through the wonder piquing,
     can you resist us,
     knowing that all we want
     is simply your entire life for just a moment?

Your silent guardians sometimes stir
inside their stoney sleep
still unborn into a life
where they would eventually die into their own eternity.

They lie dormant far above you,
and nightly we circle.

Nightly the bell-ringer.
Nightly they stir far above you.

It is not fire or lightning
that occasionally rips the towers from your cathedrals.

Keep eating your garlic.
We will help you stop sinning more quickly
if you are spiced up a bit.

Stop

tempus dies aevum saeculum otium hora in praesentia siquando spaientiae nostrum tempestivus

Who 
is to free the prisoners 
when sand sleeps
in the eternity of the tilted hourglass?

Acrolid

futilis frivolus vanus futilitas

Memory
fascinates her clock each night
     with innocence 
     and a stake,

while the potent scent of predatorial bliss
that permeates the air each dusk,
sends this lionesse back over the horizon,
sending her away from this sleeping cobra,
never staking
as we are each others’ claim...

Sends this lionesse back over the horizon to sleep
each night just before I wake.

How many centuries will this go on?

The Prescient Remembrance: Dialogue of a Vampire poetry collection is available in the shop to download in pdf format for $1.21 USD. Enjoy! Click here. It’s 2nd from the left on the 2nd row.