Samhain

 mjbanks@swehttamxam 

This time of year when the sun shifts from one horizon to the other, in days shorter than the last faster than the past of shades and shadows, the sun and moon learning to hold hands in the cold light and the long nights, of four seasons fall comes in it’s quarter at winter’s border ushers in the evenings where days of darkness come before our feasts and delights, we watch the leaves turn weak and leather in the daylight farthest reached from distant sunlight in color and Autumn masks, the rains become plenty more than moss can hold, we look to nature as it turns away it’s summer into shades more than can be counted, moreso wells and lakes rebounding filling ground and distant spring, this the worries are resounding as woes of queens and kings, but worry not for songs confounding as the end of seasons harvest brings, for it is these days the world and earth rests, as if rolling into blankets of winter, as we humans crawl over the sleeping soil in ways described by vapid voices and raucous choices have claimed for years a war begun, but without a time of cleansing surely dawn would never come. 

Crowvane

Crowvane 

The dog barks because the wind howls between the trees, eyes appear and the pet pretends to be dead, and the werewolf marches of heavy and monstrous steps. Sleeves shreds and torn with slacks short and faded a man tells a story, in the window many drink and sing thin tales of dark veils, and thru the glass the monster rages and drinks and sings again. The bodies steaming breath from rips and ravage, lifeless cooling dead beside a fire growing on the walls, the hardened husk around them dries in rivers of blood. They leap thru burning windows and break thru charred fires and dust, clouds fall from the ground to reach the full moon, here the trees pretend to sleep hiding from their terrible treachury unbound. Covered in charcoal and doused with the ground covering fog, rejoining unto another pack their gathering amasses hungry ravenous crows, as rooks and ravens perch on the nearby castle without windows or watch. Beasts race and claw the heavy doors tearing paws with claws and splinters dangerous and tearing thru, clawing into the granite and climbing the wall the crows abandon where hope is only haunting, there are shadows making whispers and a cauldron burning hot. Within the floors are seamless shining both silver and black obsidian, paintings of people sleeping and mirrors that give no reflections confound the dreamers and lose the light, into the courtyard crippled trees and black apples around a velvet carpet plot. There is a cauldron dank and quiet by a throne of oaken stock, there is a table drawn for feasting of a single whiteoak block, and a spear thrown in the wall as an antiquated clock. Many snakes are in this orchard under chaos and the moon, blood is anger eyes are searching for the vampire deigned to haunt them as death in blume, who is gone but not forgotten until the break of day resume. 

Luna

Written too much

The black dog is after my heart

Distilled panic at dawn

As much to pine for trees

Withouts within my way

Songs into the air

And the many blind sunrises

Millions of zombies swaying

Casting blasts only closing

To the great door of mind

And emptiness connects

With dawns of worlds

Fiery thoughts exhausting

And soon to hold vices

Because the winds have

If unto the untoward hither

Where by knowingly curse

The tears of my skies

This crown of rich madness

And throne of poor sadness

Pure to blithely go wistfully

To spite at echoing demons

Proudly every memory remains

This scattered throughout time

With sand does my blood begin

To fall as i you my heart give

Swearex

There are places and people who’ve a swear jar, a totaling and reminding collection of value in form of currency gathered each time someone says something regrettable or misfortunate enuf to reckon as irreconcilable without a surcharge. This as expectedly so has come to a premeditated source of value, for some more than others, or for less than are most, not leastly the lesser, and which the comprehensive heap of penance is pittance, of perfidy is penurious, uninformed by overlooking the surmounting fortune in fucking flattery of aggregate agrandization, of intellectual pride in the name of prowess or arrogance in place of actuality, nonetheless making quick work of trading a geopolitical global exchange of political apologies and appologetic empathizers, to wit the likelihood of contingency rests on the solidity of reality concatenate to the results of hindsight. In many senses it seems easy to write and difficult to remember, as if dry grass in gravel sands with only a view of a forest unforgiving, every road less taken against the other a choice of learning better ways to speak by learning the language when all roads lead forward, if all roads lead to the empire the obvious pathway is one forwarded experienced. Easier to write not having done such recently, this was quicker to write and longer to filter during so, there’s been a lack when new opportunity was measured, like thru the eyes of glasses an image of the impossible requires better glasses or position, and not one without the other. You are a warrior, the light of day shines, as the trees spread and grow to grasp the sun, there is room to escape and find the wishing well of time. 

mjbanks@swehttamxam