Quoting The Phantom

Stone Temple

2012-02-01T08:44:00.000-08:00

e aquel que, como el ocaso, se ciega al despertar de las estrellas, y que como ellas resurge dentro del frió suspiro que llama desde las tramas del cuerpo que lo sostiene y acobija. Allí donde la devoción se inflige sobre el áspero rose de sus cimientos, como una vivida entidad que merodea incansable resguardando el abismal interior. e aquel que el tiempo a enseñado la doctrina del saber, que lo a convertido, transmutado, como al esqueleto de este templo que yace, en piedra.

de ti, de la presencia que allana repentina a través de la añoranza que descansa, surge atravesando tremulante cual lenguaje que hace despertar mis manos, entre estas mis manos y las suyas, las de este monumento que sin aliento alguno se percata de tan intensa visión, mientras que de esta tu esencia se avecina, ingenua ante su propia intensión.

cambio mi sangre por agua, mis esperanzas, mis ojos, mi calor, para que así palpite y fluya, dentro, para hacerlo despertar, para devolver la víspera de la virtud al monolito; quien fue capaz de imitar el deslumbrar de las constelaciones, y para que una vez mas sea capas de hacer sonar a los vientos y servir de guía a las mareas que recompensan su bondad

tu quien inquieta los pilares, quien entra irrumpiendo su calma amarga y la sincera e intima soledad que resuena a través de su quietud, tu quien brinda la calamidad y atrae la inesperada y sorpresiva armonía de mil cantares que penetran asta los mas profundos espacios del palatino anfitrión, incitando al eco a resurgir por entre los confines de su propia elocuencia.

el cierto auge que despide tu intromisión, que procura tu aguda forma al osarse entrar después del cínico silencio y penetrarlo con cuanta dulzura, con cuanta imponencia; como el perdón que interrumpe al llanto de obrar sincero sobre la pena de un frágil temor.

revoloteas, posando sobre los pesados tronos, planeando a través de sus estrechos ojos, trazando sombrías tientas por entre los maltrechos rincones como atrapada buscado tu libre vuelo dentro de aquellos ancianos y condenados restos, pero tu paso sincero y orgulloso te guía, a través de la calma, te recubre, asta que en tu día encuentres tu verdadero camino de paz.

a.k

2012-01-24T15:41:00.000-08:00

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La Patrona de las Luces

2012-01-16T22:29:00.000-08:00

La Patrona de las Luces

aweaken from the deepest dream
she who prone through heaven and sky
hecatombs trending a frivolous shine
as pouring seeds of gloom and grey towards the howling night

conjuring haste, fearless she ventures
inside the threshold raving like a scornfull tide
her lament drowse her skin and her mouth
to insolently woo them inside the vail of her ribs, of her eyes

infecting with tremors from the very soul of her glide
tormenting the flesh of those who persist to abide
to retrieve the grace of that which perish
at the gallant vilemous haul of her endless prosession

and carelesly she rest
parasite and dissised
in a fragile groove of hest
copering drose in the sleeping plea

she would prize a gesture
to a mournfull sight
beyond a rascal poingtant
beyond the paleness of the sky

a.k.

In Honor Of Wealth

2011-09-08T23:57:00.000-07:00

by a.k

"to honor this sullen i envenom it with esteem
to condemn this wealth i worship that what was real
for what it claims to be whisper in intense bitterness
recounting the mourn of sorrows to what those should succumb
/
para honrar la hosca la enveneno de aprecio
para condenar la riqueza adoro lo que era real
pues lo que reclama serlo susurra en intensa amargura
relatando el luto los pesares a los que debe sucumbir"

→ read it here / léelo aca

2010-11-18T16:50:00.000-08:00

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Alborada Negrusca

2010-11-18T16:34:00.000-08:00

Alborada Negrusca

2010-11-08T15:05:00.000-08:00

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2010-11-07T21:22:00.000-08:00

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2010-11-07T21:19:00.000-08:00

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Gorrones de la Negrura

2010-11-06T22:46:00.000-07:00

Gorrones de la Negrura

i hear them lousy singing

from the lour lands of the veiled

disquieting the dust of blackened fields

spreading malady to ease the scourge

deviantly discrete over the intrigued silence

of the starry pour from the glaring moon

like waving boreals on shaded dark daze

furrowing the cold pale tender haze.

in the celebration, crossing in creeps

the spirits, climbing over the spiked corpse of the scowling trees

dancing and singing with flutes and drums

brought the slumber from a scent of rottenness blowing of their lungs.

obscure sullen shapes advent trough the bagasse lashings of the distant mounts

i hear them longing for me, starving at my wounds

the horde of hastily wanderers above the frozen wretched waters

i see them approaching towards my resting flesh.

impaled to the ground, my senses collapse in a desperate retch of blood and hate

with my gaze towards the blackened pulverulent pitch

i lay beneath the spreading tragedy over the eyes of the sky…

...the silence groans louder than me.

and so i begin to commend myself to the voidness

that slowly drowns the notion inside

as this carcass surren to the slow phase of this lasting illusion

that no quarrel brings to my dismantling peace.

those visitors, i suddenly watch them devouring the carrion

over the soil plotted with tinder rails

some light traces of blooded footsteps

and dried coils of litter cayenne.

i pray to my ancestors

that from the earth they were bound to sleep

to whisper through those frivolous blizzards

who graze from the wretched heap which chafe our mother’s peel

and grind the mourning of my flesh with the placid lull into the final doze.

...and so i shall find my freedom, away from the perishing drowse.

a.k.

Welts Of Silence

2010-10-23T18:01:00.000-07:00

Welts Of Silence

The innocence that silence wealths to the promptitude on witch the years feast upon a giveth man, from the fantasy crumbling inside his mouth, become the luring and softly clearing voice that chants with nameless words towards the coldness of a quailing sunken shade, the shade of pouring wounds and absent vexes; intoxicating like the fleshed roams of the waived spirit.

From the lays of somber sights, groans of eager gales divert the howling that the gentle servant cast upon the watery floods, sating their thirst of ignominy and trepidation, struggling at the reach of the drowsy glow.

Restrained and vagrant, detached from the yearning hunger of the ravenous hoax, as those last remaining of hypocrital lucidity, the identity of the thoughts are transcribed withing the weight of the riotous griefs.

And while the sound of those voices, in flee from the slight perception, corrupts abruptly the once forgotten intention, a calmly inflicted sensation reappear to remind the virtues and warmth of the endlessly beauty of every lone pronunciation, the one which could repeal the lacerous incantations that a giveth self could ignite from the visions held secretly inside the wounded carcass.

a.k

Family Portrait

2010-09-29T22:30:00.000-07:00

Family Portrait

The Mourns Of Hoarden Grievers

2010-09-28T18:52:00.000-07:00

The Mourns Of Hoarden Grievers

as my eyes unfurl the veil of your sentence

the one that a sertain fraganse spread

a frozen peal of shiver and pain

run friendly as a flower gardened from dazzling growths of may

my chest pound runnig in haste of dart

as words now mulish went hidden from sight

to let the silence bundle the ties

and price to the hours a sudden stunt

recking toward the streams your dawn gown

i close my sences inside those humming drawls

and ease to blur the vast outside ourselves

to mend a cage for us to laid

let me hold you into the confinement of this fleshed heart

who speak in rage at the fierce of your stealth

dismaying the sorrows inside a wroth trench

which i consieve to dry the clouded breathing damping your face

let me be the windy bow who flows to lead

the steady praising of your scintillan trims

a fierce frond which keep you from the fall

to stanch and thrill from that what sour you apart

graze the intrige that furrows your voice

against the embrace i hold to retain the sounding moist

secretly casting a softly plea

to taste and lull those glasy traces hailing from withing your daze

let me then drink from the wailing pond

to dry and vanish that plunging grove

drunken at the hear of the songs that beautifly arrange

from the drowsing ecos that rave inside your troath

i will stand the flaring of your galling fears

and eat the laments from deep within to heal

even if venomus threats they foist to grant

i shall endure to answer the quivers of your crowned stand

as our shadows taint the earthly grounds

and our pouring rivers join from distant throughs

i oath to become the gentle yearn of the kissing blue

blaming my straingh to carry you on.

a.k.

La Piviana

2010-09-27T18:49:00.000-07:00

La Piviana

scarlet as the sun tip rise up your toe
merging with blend of your soft pouring skin.
melancholy cries at your deep dark gaze
and claim the fractious joy of your seductive taste

frame me into your precious velvet eyes
touching my fragrance and bright at the coincidence of your vagrant glaze
embracing the slow delirious breeze that your chest tempt to engrave
on my poor and fragile sentiment save

punish me with the vicious cream
inside the canvas, graceful smile
brushing lips on my mischievous dean
claiming the fruit, whispering ville

delightful bird of the aquamarine sands
shame to those who try at hand
to slave the shine that once was my light
i shall embed a cage to conceal
my blood as oath to my primal dear
that no sense shall blind
the peer of my voracious fear

come then, my queen
depart with me to the infinity of this stone
that will be the mark
of our secret, dark…
reminds of our hidden lair
as gluttonous as this pain
claiming a shaded warm out of your perfect lone

bitter now we shall rest
sharing the comfort of our beloved nest
tearing the occults of this void
and walking through those who once despite
the purest coagulant of this effervescent joint

my grace Piviana, to thy mere seclusion
never we must care longer that their furtive lure
that haunt the misery out of thy own
corrupting the taints of all that we had found

we may now complete
the sentence of our prays
to the sublime trays
of this living monolith

...the one that may carry us, to the infinite and guilty whispers of our memorial sights.

a.k.

The Athirst Havoc

2010-09-27T18:39:00.000-07:00

The Athirst Havoc

El Arrullar de la Partesana

2010-09-27T15:38:00.000-07:00

by a.k.

"Al suave arrullo que el beso de su sonrisa me canta, la fiebre que incendia peligrosa retuerce el delirio de una voz que ahuyenta las prisas miedosas y acicala la esencia cariñosa..."

→read it here / leelo acá

para mi hermosa doncella de alabastro, mi musa partesana…

Virtues Gavest Contempt

2010-09-27T15:35:00.000-07:00

by a.k.

"a whirlwind that impose as the avaricious scourge orchestra, performing a parody of the few lines that still insist on surviving over the palms of your hands..."

→read it here

El Viento que Sopla en Horas de Silencio

2010-09-27T15:33:00.000-07:00

by a.k.

"El rocío que se escurre manchando las calles de suaves tonos pálidos y la caricia que gentilmente recorre con sus delicados y gélidos dedos los pasos que va dejando el eco del silencio..."

→read it here / leelo acá

Watery Graves

2010-09-27T15:30:00.000-07:00

by a.k.

"while the grooves are dragged between the pale cloudiness, blearing and shining in the gelid momentum, a sign sticks out to surprise the one silent beneath that solid mantle of drab tones..."

→read it here

Inés

2010-09-27T15:28:00.000-07:00

by a.k.

"como de pronto descubro que la mañana se acerca, miro hacia el horizonte que se desviste y despeina al regocijo de un umbral que ampara a la noche al murmullo y a la distancia; tan grande es aq…"

→read it here / leelo acá

to my beloved and beautiful muse / para mi amada y hermosa musa

Quietscent Barrows

2010-09-27T15:20:00.000-07:00

by a.k.

"while lurking on the blusterous delusions
a small scar furrows on their bodies then
while in the augury of endlessness
palls and cloy of their bodies while they are consumed"

→read it here

Mi Jardín de Azufre y Canela

2010-09-27T15:16:00.000-07:00

by a.k.

“Abrázame, no me sueltes, tiembla conmigo, llora pero en silencio que mañana, veras, que mañana no estaremos, no seremos más de nadie pues ya nadie queda”.

→read it here / leelo acá

The Crave Of Willows & The Airbended

2010-09-27T15:05:00.000-07:00

The Crave Of Willows & The Airbended

unreprived and wasted from the slumber that the drifting hours cast over the fragile senses leaving nothing but notions of fear, whom, suddenly, bends in hollow dens, nourished on those sentiments that once granted me the strengths enough to meant a significance, those on which i rely to conceive a truth.

as the tepid shade who leans in sore, chased by the daring glare that manipulate it with desperate cravings; the one that gently lends itself to mold the arrogant shape that impose to give it sustenance, to make it born of the oblivion from which it roam frustrated and melancholic. this shadow, although tired of the urge which make it illusion, which attire and softens it, disquiet in fascination with the beauty of its form, so delicate and soft, slave of the abrupt impulses that mistreat it, remain disposed at the ent who sentence it and the winds that shape their mystic gaze.

a.k.

La Doncella de Alabastro

2010-09-27T15:02:00.000-07:00

La Doncella de Alabastro

-The Alabaster Maiden

inflicting the anguish beneath the roam of the heart

that as wounds of eldritch arrows rip my fragile skin apart

while enchanting these ears with your beautiful pain

tainting them with sour blood to delight my senses towards disdain

as i oath to the creature that lies beneath this skin

isolated i lay above its hands and rot into it’s silent veins

with only fears as my maternal sentiment

it consumes the ally of this content

one shall remain in agnes as the carcass of a sailing wraith

as depravity absolves the reason from deliberation

to conceive then the meaning that hide behind the grieving heist

that so gently swallow the winding of your charming taste

with the mere touch from her own lips

the lakes and oceans nested inside manipulating my mold

succumb on the echo of that sound and submissive to overflow

while them making her owns to become absinthe

drowning my strength in a flamboyant sake

i pray to her for forgiveness, was this impulse on so selfish

and as i quote her watch over my elusive eyes

there where the storm leaves, letting the threshold of stillness to wonder

freely and softly as the dew grooms the kisses from the winds

my body and my thoughts dance wildly terrified into a sudden numb

and then i become inflicted by a soft hum

that wrap inside like a sized black stone

impending the claims devastate my bowels

fervently tearing in wills of pain and bitterness dowers

so frozen may i have become, that evenings in despite rise frivolous in disregard

dying in haste to forsake and tempt myself into the gloom

that the moonlight trade for a starling suit

so i could mimic the sounds that she gracefully grant

and detach from that so perilous and so rum

so i let myself to the hex of the stream

boasting at those moments of cloister

those where hopes never had an end

and the breathing so insufficient

to let us be minions from the water of the alabaster maiden.

a.k.

The Dowerly Drench

2010-09-27T15:00:00.000-07:00

The Dowerly Drench

“over watery shreds you rise into a burning dark flare from a mintier wick, while the blizzard freshen spreading the dowel crumbs in a gentle dew, burning at the very touch of your skin, becoming ashes and mist.”

a.k.

The Amber Pinion

2010-09-27T14:56:00.000-07:00

The Amber Pinion

as i embrace a hollowed purpose tramped as a wretched theorem, my perception engage a estrange martyr towards that of what i assume as an alibi of myself. all that surround is plunged but i still flyby aside from time and without care i stay forsaken, inward and shy.

detaching from which i consider a transgressor manner, smothering the insight, i carve the shape of me inside a little orange stone to keep me there to wait, and unable to find my way inside i become lost to the gravity of the unknown.

but then i regret and try to brake it, trowing myself to the soil and crashing… but the stone is too strong and too shinny, it temps me to grab it once again and hold it like if i were precious and strong. when the glitter pass trough my orbit i then shine, the heatness of my light comforts me.

within the smiling piece a foundling poem is bound, a quarrel that wraps deep and dancing the joys of his own melody, so little and so young, losing itself towards itself.

a.k.

Scaffolds Of Dearth

2010-09-27T14:51:00.000-07:00

Scaffolds Of Dearth

an arpeggio incarnate over gallant and moribund azaleas, from which sprout a speech of venom and perilous glaze of honey. i take a glimpse of something i believe as treachery leading to me, a nostrum clamor from beneath the nocturnal vower, pledging with the joy whom arose in sudden glow from the slight hunch, which then is lost among the misfortune of disappearance.

there on where you grant me a lifting through my reflection, i envy your sinister eyes stalking over my apparent glen, those eyes so dark and profane, so that i chose to scape inside and stain my body until my flesh become frail, dry and putrid, while my whole self succumbs to the carving of the stillness in your sentence. decrepit is disrupted the harmony when the augury of you become softened, but how unbearable to resist, and while i unveil my courage to accompany the convalescent symphony then, a quiescent lubberly take over my persistence and interrupt me into frustration.

unforgiven is this void, i turn to nothing but nothing at all, folding into eyes closed and vanishing into guilt i intent to retreat, but then at the guessing of my uncharted dearth i pronounce your name in hopelessness over and over again. as i dwell from beneath your scaffold as an allegory that invites the absence to corrupt this so beautiful recitation of your incautious heart.

a.k.

Water House

2010-09-27T14:36:00.000-07:00

W.H(Vol.1)

W.H(Vol.2)

Listen to the laments of the sick morning dead , that, like a winding tale of melancholy, rejuvenate the scribe of such composition.

somnolence and a slow surren to my phase of death, unquestionably embedding within this head; and then this hourglass, stood inside and filled with blood slowly dripping those reddish tears that at the end of every fall warns me of how much i have lost and dare.

like the cloister of a sting… there on where no bare naked eye could reach but merely atone over the feeling of how the will of intuition act in virtue of punishment, to understand then that the stillness is crafty but irreverent.

then at the very last flicker i feel again, like rain, a shade of youth that has long gone inside my wraith, and then all my fears comes to view while i step over the notion, making it uneasy to stand and too bright to look upon, too bright so i depart once again and find myself lost and blind.

an idol then come, with words to me, like a little child who comes to claim my body, but i deceive; instead i give him my eyes and my tongue, there is no use for them and he smile, but i can’t see, just hear.

this idol, you see, is me, the little young child who at the receiving of his virtues stood to confront and detach himself from harm and amuse over the compliment of freedom, the freedom that only death could teach.

the phrases that he gives me are quiet, luring and soft, making my mind rest unleashed and sober, like the moan of the slight blow kissing the blue silhouette of water who wash the temper of the heating ground much beneath its deeper self, caressing the child until he is finally asleep.

i have no reasons there, i’m just merely drowning… but my words falls incomplete and then i saw him, trying to reach my thoughts, my hands…and so we depart…

a.k.

Water House (Vol.2)

2010-09-27T14:35:00.000-07:00

Water House

Water House (Vol.2)

Water House (Vol.1)

2010-09-27T14:34:00.000-07:00

Water House

Water House (Vol.1)

Catoblépäs

2010-09-27T14:31:00.000-07:00

Catoblepäs

he, who like the enceinte mother who speaks to the tree wounding and killing him, drying his branches and towering over the ashes, without wanting to; at his gaze the reflection and the approach to the truth, the one he never speaks or regret is molded over his head, so heavy, that the soil on where he stand turns into quicksands, swallowing him.

dismay at this wonder is conceived through the gestures of the atrophic, while the covenant array so peacefully inside that not even himself is able to understand.

blinded by the copper on those eyes, at fear and trembling, i price the joy and desire that stands for sanity that escapes from between the delicate but jovial inflowing silence, while i behold the smothering gasps banish withing the quoting night, as the temper undress from the notion of my body: i disappear.

a.k.

Entombments Of Mirth

2010-09-27T14:27:00.000-07:00

Entombments Of Mirth

such a glimpse is the pave of blindness, who falls behind and overrides the scrupulous sentences from which i convict to repeat, so many graves now lying on my path, hindering my vows: those i long to reach as iron stones falling through the gaze of the perishing glam until they hurt and shape onto your skin the softness locked inside this remorse; as i hallucinate my misery, you there, tranquil and absent watch me throughout demanding me to hide but aware the delicious breath attached now to mine, so fresh, strong and paralyzing.

the wonder of that perfume scent the air, fainting on quakes of shades…those what became vague and indistinct, at the sole fierce of your pounding archetype rage the winds, killing me countless of times, delightful and weak i intend to stand but the snow is heavy, stroking me into my whole senses and throwing me through the air away again from the avarice. the affair froze withing the seasons and the rain, unstoppable, answers my fears.

your face trend me with no quarrel, as much those eyes worse my addiction to the affinity of their presence, that which is not facing or shudders but became the noise of wealth from which i suddenly became burnt.

so the eloquent mystery, he that passionately tells the rites that make me this misconception, slandering, incinerates this fantasy. so fragile you are, so soft, so quiet, so perfect and so tame, but the fierce, inherited of your smile, make moors crumble on their own hills.

ravenous and loud, you stab me. i feel the blade touch my throat, my stomach, my chest and my back so fearful that i dismay and faint as you eat the oath, making me so uncertain of if my heart may be able to go on. rather be this, rather crumbled to my very bones than anguish from the sentiment of thrill, onward to this battle instead of the stillness of my curse. but i’m in dawn of this bright new rave, while i give up…there, approaching, the rhymes, they afflict as aflaming thresholds, a threnody which inspire the allusion to finally retreat and die in mournful lairs, holding tight from the approaching steep.

there, finally defeated, with my arms and hands broken, rolling and crawling in deep and grandiose pain, i caress the end of the sweep of light that is impregnated, covering me, abruptly interrupting all the grace that the personification of this spasm attempt to overflow. so wicked are these entombments, so beautifully engaged, the insufferable bearings that this quite heart must endure, on where the agonist bemoan mirth.

a.k.

The Hound, The Sparrow, The Fox & The Hare

2010-09-27T14:19:00.000-07:00

The Hound, The Sparrow, The Fox & The Hare

”...and the hare aggrieved, fled across from the deepest dye cursing the sparrow that in greed alerts the hound of his presence, that like the fox were looking his body use and his skin tear apart”.

a.k.

La Prosa Negra

2010-09-27T14:16:00.000-07:00

La Prosa Negra

-The Black Prose

from the stones are tied a melancholic tantrum
once left in lone secrecy, fading in deuce to rest
clover the misfortune that tell the flowers that were astounded
heralds the wonder of the capricious ent

denial claim the spirit of the years
off those from his womb revere at dying
appears in sympathy over riots
acclaiming conceive and so he destroys

hear the roar of his waste deploring the soil
hear the anoint over the dust become alloy
moist the trolling steps approaching in haste
hide your fearing and endure the pain

the tempest breath through the eyes of the trees
the baying hunting the tinny marks of their feets
the scent wounding all over its throat heats
the watery swamps of salty glide through the withered breed

under the gallows and beneath the weed
hex the horrible ardency of the precarious lead
over stout groove lying upon the quirk
screaming the pleas and crying in grieve

hide the children from the shimmering stars
of begging the cries of dazed scars
at loss they may depart from sudden sight
and never again return the hearted hails

a.k.

The Man Who Stood The Void

2010-09-27T14:13:00.000-07:00

The Man Who Stood The Void

Through Folds of Dismal Drapery

2010-09-27T14:11:00.000-07:00

Through Folds of Dismal Drapery

onward the haze of meadows, the cloves of spring unfurl
most, the atrophy convey to bower the nameless stream
coming from afar and blowing trough
passing on the very trace of the cold sea

deceived and growling towards the veil
listen how he strikes the earth
a lonely anima so far away
escaping, will come…fouling the day

retrieve the perfect arum that embellish your heart
and usurp the wish that was, for him, granted
hold your head high, watch the distant land
but then you felt the pressuring hand…

down fall, as all you ever had
suddenly trapped into your eyes
as motion shades away from the sense
interrupting

a bleak bristle falls in your tongue
as your mouth dry and numb
while the sour attach to your skies
turning the little white clouds to gray raids

fake inevitably and peal all to me
sleepy swallows of dripping decay
them who astonish and savagely dye
the folds of dismal drapery that you prime

a.k.

Zenith

2010-09-27T14:08:00.000-07:00

Zenith

inside a serpent casket, disguised and flamboyant
a clay hovering glum skeleton
search the marble vessels on where the medicine waits
in white silhouettes scist towards the bold pitch

the stealth of a symbol that unfolds trough foist patterns
and reproach decency which carve from within the staleness
dazes and revere the romantic trap
coating them with orphan flowers and false offerings

while the sun insist the assumption of the sands
a fever then rush upon the stillness, dancing
staining the eyes with passion tins
and sense the virgin essence of the body which perishes

leave the body naked and share the loneliness
walk with those who are unfortunate and fall
as the drop that nourishes the land from where your feet were made
sew your skin from the living remnants of the solstice reign

the surly mistletoe gown in apatía
offends the promiscuity of your ambivalence
and while these imped sorrow take your head
embrace the anguish and plead the dead

a.k.

Phantomima

2010-09-27T14:04:00.000-07:00

Phantomima

sometimes… the night, bring memories… sometimes at night bring feelings i thought they were dried
bemoans of quivering soars bring those memorials to scorn on the edge of every dying day

a longing reverie thin the lips of my eyes
as the rain washes away all of this crimson pain

waterbeading afternoons, sowers in the distant drear of my stalking speech
i, in lone endurance of faceless distress, stay forever to you

as a stranger who sole vision blur at the sense of your pretense
struggles on my throat incest me and leech my anguish for the chromes of your perfect shape

instead, i cowardly draw your face over mine and smile
i see myself lost in this delight of lightings and lust

once i believe in what is now buried beneath a fountain of mire
foretold was my scent of loneliness… shent, and so am i

this bones now rattle, a black prose of fear attack me and throw me out of myself
but you grab my hand and hold me, and then you laugh and i cry

awake me dear, take me there, impale the grace of your existence trough me
frivolous i detach and left myself to the void and your smile smother my burial

this pit where i keep falling, this misery where i comfort, shows me abruptly
that even in death, no man can never forget and forgive that terrible presence that strife over the sense of strength, and ungracefully surren to it.

will i, ever may i…disappear and bring you ents of joy once again?
what brings the time shall be taken by…

...and so the phantom may lay in gracious impurity, and hide his head
in trails of unrelieved loth and prostrate

i eat this words my dear, and shan’t you will never be burned
but i cast your reminiscence on this poor shameful entity, who always will reward your every precious self.

a.k.

Barren Morrows

2010-09-27T14:01:00.000-07:00

Barren Morrows

hearing prongs from doweling grounds

the indecent and frail unrest much alike the yonds of yearning roils
in misery convey as a frozen wound ingest an obscure sprout
motionless to those virtues that are the peels which shear from veil, unfold

much beyond the spuds of discomfort, a great tide reveal in significant crier
but too many passages laid across, the interpretation might already be lost…

a guillemot enchantment to arrogance
abrupt and ineloquent
grandiose as incognizant
laceration outpouring alongside a sealed beast

as man irrupt the grave, the inspirit quote the incantation of truth
vowels in silent wholes of nothing but fear
unaccompanied like those lament and traces of disloyalty to one self
oeuvres of denial and frustration.

a.k.

The Fiendous Dupery Amalgama

2010-09-27T13:58:00.000-07:00

The Fiendous Dupery Amalgama

a quietnesses usurps from leverage a gentle clash, while evolving this symptom appears as a miserable outcome of emotions and passion; this with a fragile conscious decadence towards an hoax emblem, what such torment one must endure to growl whats inside, why to abscond from the flesh that you are made and cursed with. pretense is a virtue, a character and a facade, build from shame and fear, of everything that is too real to handle.

a.k.

The Beseech Dirge

2010-09-27T13:53:00.000-07:00

The Beseech Dirge

on white the gloom indict the path

over golden crimped silver stalls
where crickets, fireflies and butterflies
crave a place on where they stand

three childs from home they were apart
as told from mothers with dearth of heart
walking a veld of tender rales
they were drown into black tormented river banks

never they will survive to hatch
from the sloth of a young cinnamon branch
whom love has torn the guilt to glam
and kill the flaring hood which covered her scarf

the night who took upon the sky
rehearse a long convulsive cry
“while more the crypt is heard aside
the more she gets to closer sight
but when at distance you hear those criers
then watch the felony strike at tide”

each child you gave to youth
to endure upon a lonely stone
she would dispose on a roaring touch
and end the song with a sad short chore

now watch her amber motherly pride
fall on biers made of rotten rye
from which she drink the water of their necks
once swallowed and regurgitated over again

and then those year will never give end
as blizzard winds blows forecasting the earth
to stay as a remorse of unfortunate storms
that raped a mind once so beautiful and so young

those who fear for this to come
hear barefully the softly hum
as sadness covers this desperate call
of a mother who once lost it all.

a.k.

after note:
The Artwork and poem are based on the folk tale of “La Llorona” (The Whiner) which is one of the Venezuelan folktales born from other legends also relate to this story in other Latin countries like Colombia, Chile and Ecuador.

Red Maple Seeds

2010-09-27T13:50:00.000-07:00

Red Maple Seeds

The sesame of shank and buttery flavors spell over like blond oil on black chrome petals strife into sour voices, explending apart towards the fondhold.

schemes of ink, clover and silk covers a pale white skin and beneath that skin a mescaline liquid wash me into dreadful atonements, passing trough my mouth triggers the heist as my quarrel torn apart and perish over the lying ravenous tears torching your perfect salmon eyes in wood and coal.

white, red and black milk i swallow to end, but hazard comfort i shall face as the impending ubiquity of felony and death spawn and exclude me like a young gray dandelion on a garden of harlequin flowers.

molested by the grains on heavens as they fall on my misery and excruciate me with an anthem much deep beyond the waves of the sun, slowly ripping all consciousness i achieve to take you and such beauty now touch the soil naked from pain.

wrecked sensations and a little invisible sparrow crown your luciform lyrics as he stings a sonata to the blowing clouds that you my dear were cursed, and i was then enchanted as well so as this skeleton bewitch a soar i must endure the hollows.

the echoes from the past, immortal as they are, forsake you onto deep galore ponds, so i may refill and vanquish the thirst that you have doom inside me. rattling from a velvet case i grow and grow into mischief but silence retrieve the lines of your shine as a thunder crashing and corrupting.

tell me on brown language those psalms once so free and full of joy, those chores full of fragments of fire, those who were so alluring and warm so that folded me trough the alondra’s beatitudes and mourned me into fledgling brass.

my heart toil on fragile grooves from solitude but the kind sorrow watch me fall as my body rot on the remembrance of this moment, the moment on which i oath abidance to the clarity laying on solo on a blooming and fruitful tree, from which i delight your red maple seeds.

a.k.

Anthropokhthonphagic Megaron

2010-09-27T13:46:00.000-07:00

Anthropokhthonphagic Megaron

internal auto-psychocannibalistic seclusion

auto consuming of one self nature and the unconscious impulses of the own material depths

-Accolade Obelisk

shallow growls from the unreceptive, dwells into consumption by the fanatic trace of self-approaching tempest. a miracle suppose to the fugitive misery that scape from an incomplete collapse, then at the grace of that misery you contemplate the lungs of what the air rot beneath from the outside in fragile silence. a clueless mind lurk so deep that is eaten by his own knowledge…and then you blame the unexpected.

a.k

The Riddling Handicap

2010-09-27T13:42:00.000-07:00

The Riddling Handicap

Soaring Attendant

2010-09-27T13:40:00.000-07:00

Soaring Attendant

thrice the flickered drown on frozen ponds, earing the quells venting trough gossip and charm. a man who stand in from ode to reach them falls to apparent dwell, much deep so the time breath blue on gray sands of loss and purity.

lay on false greed knowing them are no to worn, but choices fragile from struggling within the hollow. this matter you face is instant, nor the graves of taciturn flies meant to harm, but less the man is to trust.

whom the fracture damage the skeleton, rust the bone and the eyes of those enduring the soar from cratering putrefaction.

a juxtaposition of both enemies, too low and too hight, trapped in the middling turn on where both disappear. to the hunger standing still on reversal, but not portraying the host.

a.k.

K-3

2010-09-27T13:38:00.000-07:00

K-3

The Forlorn Pikestaff

2010-09-27T13:37:00.000-07:00

The Forlorn Pikestaff

A White Lie

2010-09-27T13:35:00.000-07:00

A White Lie

July

2010-09-27T13:31:00.001-07:00

July

This Hidden Chair

2010-09-27T13:30:00.001-07:00

This Hidden Chair

Psygnosphaira

2010-09-27T13:28:00.000-07:00

Psygnosphaira

A Lullaby For The Cicada

2010-09-27T13:25:00.000-07:00

A Lullaby For The Cicada

unwanted was a coward phrase
that birds to chant they where afraid
a black-ink verse but never inscribed
not even in those most dareish minds

a young crow lady of white lay hands
with bright silk feathers of secret lands
to mist and wolves she wept and pray
but numb like frostbite her heart die gray

her voice is loud and soft like clouds
the color birds then once they said
but something deep within her air
don’t let the sun go sleep again

a burden haunt us now you see
the sun is tired and need an ease
but we the birds must fly to eat
and sail to waters more blue and deep

a grimmer deal we must conceal
to a creature’s help that could make us reel
from this desert vast and non enchanted land
that the mistress crow has forsaken at hand

oh great silence from forbidden pleas
send us somewhat a strong red beast
with flaming tears and diamond ears
to pour resistance to the mistress martyr

Like oath we pay to you our beast
with crimson colored and flaming deeds
as we shall vanquish the voracious chant
that covers our hands with monochrome sands

the beast arrive from the wuthering sky
and a deep moore shadow envolve the whole shine
a red bright thunder corrupted the light
and a shape like fog revealed to the sight

the birds of joy cried out a price
to the savior of thy condemned lands
but the surprise let out a laugh
when they realize what were it was

a brown like dust and tinny crack
over the earth was the whole it was
but a sudden cry disturbed the slice
of little earth that moved in size

a little harmless cicada that were it was
the little bird of young blue feets alarmed
what has heaven sends us for the love of nuts
but this creature will be never enough

some bright birds then unite
and try at least to make him crisp
but nothing give the little one
the correct sentence to react

the sun now desperate for so many games
a hot red-black thick dense tear
over the useless bum spited without fear
turning the brown cracked peel into red horrible heat

the cry was so loud that the sun’s red ears bleed out
the birds in pain where all dismissed
by the horrible loud queer geez
so terrible that even the sky cried

drips from heaven! the birds alarmed
but no one was able to ear a sound
the burning bug was now too sad
and water make him turn into glass

so much was the water that the heaven has
that even the sun run out of brass
the moon dancing usurp his stand
and bring the slumber into the birds at last

the little whisper was now alone
and all the world were in deep lure
wondering around the cicada to the moon
ask for company even for a little stall

the moon so cold as the breeze unfold
told the little to go to his home
to take a trip to ancient shores
of deep and hypnotizing eternal growls

the sun is dead now i’m your priest
you the only one who could resist
my glaced gaze and lustful fist
oath to me as your only first

the magic creature flew away
and the moon jealous run after him
but blue-grey princess as she pleased
return her gaze in every hidden place

the little cried and cried
wishing for the sun to wake a rebirth
but so deep was the sleep
that a tune slighted from a distant lead

in desperate chase then he stretch
and found the tune so lovely at first
that sings of light begin to shine
as he approached to the enchanting cry

it was the mistress crow as the moon now told
in deep agony by this world she’s known
praying for a radiant red and orange flame
that can cure her forgotten black and pale blue pain

shyly approached the little dusty
while the lunar patches covered his walk
the dark bird a look took upon her stand
and the cracking tune broke in silent glam

impressed was the crow at the little peel
was one who could stand her suffering ill
moreover the moon who seems to fill
in gracious pale curtains the tinny hill

a white-red air from the cicada spell
seduce the bump that the black bird felt
through her chest arise the sudden sound
and both collide to the envolving loud

the cicada with his voice asleep the moon
and the crow breathless attended the flood
a lullaby that was spread
inside slumber the grey-white shine was ment

the mistress felt the majestic grill
of deep sentiment envolving her own
a new flame were spell in revolve
to awake the sun once and for all

the lady’s grace reborn the light
as twilights peering from the mother’s eyes
filling with eve the whole dine
while the brand new sky over the mountain reach

awoken were with pride
while the melodies washes in twinkling tides
the birds that once soulless weened
while the sunlight clover on grooves lines

thankful where once they were hustled
and ashame those whom on mistress blame
the birds forgiven surely were
and soon away in fly convey

the sun now on shame for such a harsh
to the crow mistress grant a special task
able you are now to ignite
the shine and light over our mothers eyes

if i were condemned to a slaving cast
you would be the one and last
on where i will rely
to untie as your voice cry high and flaming waves

one last thing i must endure
my little sister you see, the moon
she like rags like a youngs are glad
impatient as morning’s waked glam

you the little cracked and grungy bug
with soft speech i rely on you
to sing the lousy and gloomy tune
to groove the noon on the kiddy’s mood

granted was the words and prays
and both departed and together stayed
the creatures of bloom dismissed the loud
and never again were now to be found

the fable ends at the tearful smile
but begin to the watchful ear
the tunes of light and dark is heard
over the mountains in distant lands

birds are now on charge to awake
the whoms that mother’s precious create
but must they now attend the stroll
that the cicada sing alongside the crow.

a.k.

B-41

2010-09-27T13:23:00.000-07:00

B-41

Dysthymia

2010-09-27T13:21:00.000-07:00

Dysthymia

-The Therapy Diary

lately i’m been feeling a little ill, but is not the normal illness that you should expect from a normal being. i feel heavy and anxious but i don’t know to what

i’m not sure when it began…actually i don’t know how did it started but the gloom came so quick that i didn’t even realize.

i been feeling melancholic for the past month, like if i were watching a very dramatic old film of my life like lapses inside my head, remembering things that i even didn’t knew they were there…doctor says that its better that way, that it will make me recover soon.

i’m not getting enough sleep, i been calling the same nurse over and over telling her that i can’t sleep well. i think she kind of hate me now, but she keep coming at night to see if i’m well…i’ve notice that cuz she pass trough the door of my room quickly like if she’s in a hurry and make a quick look at the little window of my door. she thinks i’m not aware of her kindness, is so cute in her the way she tries to pretend it…

yesterday we went out like we regularly do to the front yard to get some fresh air and stuff and i remember that they told us there where going to be something special for the one that would stay longer enough without breaking into medication… i wondered what could possibly be the prize for people like us…maybe a better medication?…or maybe something from the outside. it was specially bright that day and the weather was very nice, but i could hardly stand on my feet due to the horribly pain on my back and in my feet too. i’ve been feeling this weird pain in all my muscles and i decided to tell that to the cute nurse but she told me that i would lose the prize if i keep behaving like that…maybe she did hate me after all…

P.D.: i was sent to my room that day due to the pain and i never knew what or who was the winner of that prize…the cute nurse was with me the rest of the whole day so i actually didn’t feel like a loser after all…haha

note to self: i’ve been acting a little reckless lately, and is harder for me to take simple decision, maybe i should relax a little…or maybe…

…dry mouth, need some sexy juice from the nurse…sorry that sounded weird…sorry…

“that place must be like… reminiscing about the good old days when i wished i were dead” -from a book i read long ago…but why am i remembering this now?…

i slapped the cute nurse today…..i feel so horrible right now, so filthy, but she didn’t say a thing, not even a reply, she stared at me like if she was shocked and then grabbed me by the hand like a little child and leaded me to my room. the she left with her face a little red from the punch. i swear that i didn’t mean to but it was like automatic, and was so sudden i didn’t control it. i’m feeling bad again and i’m staring to much to the window…so bright it huts me a little. i wanted to apologies to the nurse but they told me i couldn’t leave my room now for the day…like if i were grounded. i hate myself so much….

-medication day…not much to say

I can not remember how I got here or when it was, but nobody seems to care either. i didn’t see her today, and i don’t know her name yet…not yet…please…not yet…

the medications are getting in the way…even when they ask me something i don’t say a thing i just stare at the empty space on mute…

Jesica….what a wonderful name…

mute…

a.k.

Remaining Silence

2010-09-27T13:16:00.000-07:00

Remaining Silence

”...quote a dismissed whisper sound around a hollow den and decipher a quite noisy deity from beyond thicker growls of the inspirit.”

a.k.

Abused Silence

2010-09-27T12:58:00.000-07:00

Abused Silence

Balada Reminicente

2010-09-27T12:53:00.000-07:00


Balada Reminicente

almond flower, you that grant

agonize distance in starched stabs
married the sympathy with hollow quotes
i shall respond as an dismissed fond

hen patterns softly array
from this illusion graping your shade
walking slowly trough the fade
of this covetous shammer fey

Stolen has been the fragrance of your day
by this indulgent shrivel and withered case
none shall retrieve the shine from thee
as the fruit reprice the sinking haste

deep has gone now
leaf has run out
done has been then
pitch bold black seed

behind the screaming craft
thirst the euphoric minion
cuffing pieces , rotting creep is
falls as aqueous repugnant grasp

swallowing fetus ornament the pact
reborns from this bete noire act
delighted by who the why was
you attach and react
to the avoided stand

roots revolve now on your toe
gracious manifesto of the enchanting rye
rice the diurnal phrase
vocals shall grant the desperate safe

as the red scab prevent your tears
your gullet contracts from the flaming disturbia
glaced eyes blurs the chroma
enclosing the guttural, retrieving and laid

devour the time
devour the trench
repeat the cycle

a.k.

The Carmine Burden

2010-09-27T12:48:00.000-07:00

The Carmine Burden

beneath the sullen alight
flaming dash trough fabled fight
as one burden calls
turning the light into brass

a glimmer of the papyrus flesh
consume a self recluted leech

what a sad memento you are
once loved and ragged apart

why must the cicada cry when the martyr arise?

the answer lies as rouge merge to bluing
beyond the three eyes catching the flight
of a scattered choir and passive archetype

vivid was the sentiment in flesh
but sinister faved the inside face
from a love that grew enchanted
carving deep and brutal hunches

morn smiles of no ending price
hundred of colored butterflies
an eloquent-sounding slow tide
and boreal clouds cover the sky

scuppering feelings attached to this memorial
overflow as winter crops the heat of my lips
afraid i were of this to came
it raped the tinted manner of this cruel tame

profounds were the words, the care and the feeling
deep i oath to your roiled and searing scorch
but every has gone after, to the boastful forlorn after

i’m now unrest
deliberated to sublime flare
exposed to the numbness of this reflection
a simple remorse of a gaze

a pact now is sealed
with thy fearful vines
remembrance of my rottening
inside my fractured sphere

the slight pantomime of my torment
dance bowing to the breeze
as your eyes will never describe
the verge of my immortal lace

a.k.

The Vermilian Nymph

2010-09-27T11:14:00.000-07:00


The Vermilian Nymph

brawl the essence inside your waters
like a mercury moon that shines beneath your skin
pleasuring the enchanted mosaics that betray
rare flare corrupts deeply the ink of what you were made

as a stone you stand
and a shield you grant
but like sulfur wine
endlessly may your mouth damn

archaic maiden of dazzling lights
dancing across the glens of fire
raid and widespread your desire
from the token that is your besotted pride

lay the suffering among your peel
and hide the joy of the macabre whirl
send this message to the goat
and ninefold winds will carry your oath

infatuated to the wonder
and marveled by the ash
venerate the wisdom of the water
and the virtues of the past

luminous tyrant holding the grail
au fait to the heated trail
sublime aid on demi fetch
ignite a fall into the abominance

hold now the highest star
and the cause then you shall understand
over the twitches of discomfort
but least the wound it would unfold

slurp inside selfish blood
eat whole the fleshed newborn
grafts leaping onto
purging awake the smiling loop

scarlet kiss among the strife
wise refuse from ravenous cries
aim this fortune to divide
the ambitious crowned and ambivalent dive

a.k.

Lotophaginia

2010-09-27T11:05:00.000-07:00

Lotophaginia

The Headless Moth

2010-09-27T10:46:00.000-07:00

The Headless Moth