Aschatria - Poetry

( on Yule, The Longest Night)

There comes the Arcatu on the first of a snow,

the Orb of Night meets the Immortal Fowl.

As the Hiemal Cold enters, walked in by December,

Sacred spirit animals of the snow shrine

make place for the words to come in life.

In the wind brittle as a sharp knife

those seven spirits continuously chime:

hear-hear, hear-hear.

In this night, deemed the darkest,

deemed the coldest, the longest,

I see what I have been given,

I know what has been shown,

at the dawn of this day

the Tree ascends up ahead of our way,

and the Lord Amedhya rises and becomes today,

the made being to live for me,

to sail the traversing sea.

I accept it, endlessly grateful

to carry it with me into the forever.

Two waters I give to the Moon

in imaginary palace,

a mausoleum mansion to endlessly wonder

for their fruits are

the Decadence and Deception.

I give them

to walk under a Orb of Night one day a month

one as a shadow, a black and deaf rat,

another as a ghost, a color changing cat,

hand in hand together to stare

at gracious silver floating silent

across the sky, and fascinated to long

but never to know each other.

Third water I give to an Immortal Fowl,

a warlike type of a thing, into

the modest stone nobody notices

entwined with the bounded companion

because Their fruit is a Malice.

I give to them

to rise at this day only once a year

into a chamber of mirrors to be reminded

and to greet to a given one who caters on

infinite dejection as their only friend.

Fourth, of the earth standing static and cold,

I fulfill their burning wish

reason which are untold

to inbound within a part of a living god,

because what is a human but not as a part

and I split their mind, to be truly apart,

because their fruit is a Prestige.

I give them to obey and serve but

never shall rise, never shall descend,

forever to hold that cup and pray.

For all their favors I order their gift of life

into the Arcatu to pour, to dwell, to twirl,

never to explain, stop or rest,

never to regret, respire or resent,

spending force unwise in a struggle and deceit

with blind eyes closed in a nightmarish fever,

to howl what Arcatu speaks, written weaver,

and quickly come to terms on their own.

Of indefinite importance is that magnificence,

inside of the Time be as a pounding life,

a never ignited flame, a desire,

they conspire to that pyre,

assumed by a holy fire.

So it shall be. I banish these parts from me

and make place for future of things to shine

into an existence of the created being.

Poem is descriptive to what it is about. In Sanskrit 'arcatu' means 'Praise!', and what is the best time to praise the light than the longest night.

treeni vart mar haima-wallahs

mar wallahs vart mall no cet

bhuj Sva sita devaduta ana Sva amcam la murAlal

ina su bhakta bhuj asm

bhuj Sva asm

mukt Sva ayuh mar ayuh ul Sva ag

ma utal ul Sva ag

nuru sarva

ghud su asar ul murAsat

da nu su bhaj Sva asm

yat murJana ir su avatum la zil

nuru sarva mudutu mar zakti su da

nuru nu mar no cet sarvak

nuru ina mar adi su ul

mukt Sva ayuh mar ayuh ul Sva ag

ma utal ul Sva ag

treeni jala merk vatak kilak bhuj amodha ki la kendra

nllavarna na elenu

sina amodha jagat merk kilak haima da la kendra

ciketi mar samarth

zuditama jala elenu Sva zakti da la kendra

amodha ki la kendra Sva mudutu da

anubhu mar bhaj

manava sva kavaca la treeni jala vart ina ana

merk kavaca ina gugul

vatak mar kilak kavaca ina sin

amodha ki la kendra da kanaka nllavarna na

seher la Sva ulla qabu aswatha

sarga arpa nuru sarva murJana

terk ag ruh ina kendra ina sarga arpa

nuru sarva sunu da Sva asm

bhuj Sva asm

nuru sarva da Sva asm

nuru sarva ina serga arpa da Sva amedhya

da Sva ayuh

mukt Sva ayuh mar ayuh ul Sva ag

ma utal ul Sva ag

seher la Sva ulla qabu aswatha

sarga arpa nuru sarva murJana

terk ag ruh ina kendra ina sarga arpa

nuru sarva sunu da Sva asm

bhuj Sva asm

nuru sarva da Sva asm

nuru sarva ina sarga arpa da Sva amedhya

da Sva ayuh

mukt Sva ayuh mar ayuh ul Sva ag

ma utal ul Sva ag

Took me days to complete. Finished the whole thing yesterday. It's not imaginary language, but simplified Sanskrit/Sumerian. It contains some grammar, but dictionary making is my priority now.

Sva amedhya means in direct translation Lord (The) Unholy and definition would be Lord of unsubmitable sacrifice or patron against submitting a person to an evil entity.

Sva/Lord is always positive Force/Power, while mur/idol is always negative Entity/Demon.

The whole thing is a commandment against black magic. It has repetitions because it is a song.

Deity, deity on the sky, can you hear me,

can you speak for me, talk to the God!?

I am not a winged fairy, to fight demons

with might,

I can't speak tongues, I am just a guy.

But, God gave me the biggest power,

could you come and see what I do with it?

Yes, I can hear you, so does They,

I can see it, and the One who speaks through me.

I can fight off all the demons,

whoever, and the rest they don't even try.

For holding onto all Their glory I am not the thunder on Their sky,

I chose to be Their gardener and a scribe.

As the embodiment of their creation, I walk among the faithless,

and I do see Their masterpiece shrouded in darkness.

What is fit and right, I talk Their talk,

walk Their walk, do Their deeds and I never stop.

But I do not work in the word of The Judge,

I sit on Their throne to be a guardian,

not in vain to attribute the vanity and grudge,

not to be the wrongdoer, the cannibal one...

I hold the nothingness and wholeness in one hand,

in another all secrets of the Universe,

I speak the tongues, but I sit in silence,

for all you have done I give you my credence.

Yes, God gave you the biggest power,

but with the rest, what would you do?

Yes, the God gave all to you, beyond belief,

but the biggest faith, Their gave it to me.

The vision of The Judge here says.

I'm fighting one of my own,

my own blood, flesh and bone.

Within a picture above the mirror

in unison we hold our hands.

The color our our eyes similar glow,

the serpent green in the ring of hollow.

The color of our heads, similar it stands red,

ashore of the great water our worlds both similar stand.

She is of the old gods, the left hand path,

with the blue rose in her hair named Rosalin.

I am of the old gods, the right hand path,

with the empiric star endowed to me

as the carrier of our line.

In the mirror the picture of an old unknown town

once our people shared, held by her Father.

In the same visage a pink hair rug-doll

and the garden of the roses

entwined with her Mother.

On the midnight stroke under the Blood Moon

her enchanted shadow

will crawl out of the glowing mirror

to deliver the message in the teardrop spiral.

In the name of our Ancient Gods and our Founding Fathers

I invoke thee Rosalie to stand afore me.

Fight, or chose to flee for the love of all you hold dear.

Fight the carrier of the descent line, face the strongest heart

or flee and resign of your unjust reasons and blood-moon charms.

Let the judgment fall upon us and verdict rise from the ashes of our doom.

The biggest battle is not one of rage and desires,

war and destruction, or any ambiguous force,

but the one with the Conquest within our heart,

the ego, and vanity.

A battle that is bigger, longer

and more terrifying than any other.

If you can burn like a flaming heart

inside of the depths of the deepest darkness,

what's stopping you to shine

as the strongest in your full glory

on top of the glittering blue sky...

You can't be one or another, you can only be The One.

There is no power stronger than mercy,

and there is no skill such as the will to chose to become,

to be a pillar of something beautiful

and worthy of every sacrifice.

To be not a master,

but a guardian this garden truly deserves.

To transform all the misery

of the superficial reflections

into love and joy.

To sum the whole of immortality

into that one thing,

the fourth ghost,

and a future which it holds,

the truth and the place for everyone ...

yes, even for the Martians.

Glorious Sun Here I Come.

White Magic of Druids - Embodiment 

Hey well met, I am the embodiment,

most of all I am a traveler.

Numerous bags I carry on me,

in an each of them is something to see.

Wishes I give, an aspiration I fulfill,

intentions, inclinations, yearning, and will.

My hand never extends a gift to receive

but I am given before thinking to leave.

My voice is a hollow burrow, a battle horn,

steps I take are the thunder, ablaze and a storm.

Just next to you even if I walk,

I will be hidden for the way I talk.

Only a few, some doves and deus,

will ask me my real dub to say,

but I didn't take my name,

didn't take it into the world today.

Forever obliged with the mace of a strife

I pair up as fast as a cut of the knife,

And before the story triggers a one nerve,

I will laid-back take a swift left curve.

Hey well met, I am the embodiment,

most of all I am a traveler.

Endless charms I transfer around,

and each of them is magically inbound.

My house is a bridle roof of the winds,

with the hailing I come in a flick of the wings.

Even your pet, cat or a dog

will recon my semblance in thick of the fog.

White is snow, white as a soul,

twirl, dance, and fly, frolic, and flow,

flurry in hurry ahead of the way,

to you a couple to follow

forever to stay.

Fallen blunt on the rives, sieves and the maul,

what has been said now, never to end its hold.

Inside the same as the outside, this whiteness is shed,

in the tunnel, theater, square and a street bed.

On the fine glitter and though the flattering drapes,

I seek my children's credence, seven spirits of shapes.

White is snow, white as a soul,

fallen on the willow, dragon and a craw.

Within the heart, within the mind, within the soul, and within the scroll,

flurry in hurry ahead of the way,

to you a couple to follow

forever to stay.

What has been said now, never to end its hold,

white is snow, white as a soul,

cold, white, silent and playful be it steadily aye to fall.

 (Founding Fathers of the Imperial Future) - Poetry

Last year for the Valentine

I had a cannibal god lit up like a candle.

I have to say I was impressed

I had to admit there was so much to think.

He said

I don't want to lie

when I look into your eye,

you brutally remind me,

all this time, forever

you I've been waiting,

to claim me,

through the galaxy all alone,

nowhere have I saw

such a soulless soul,

all this time, forever

have I been this alone and

harvested over the universe,

nowhere have I met

such a dauntless darkness.

You put a G in my god,

you put an H in my homicide,

so you shall be mine

we are such a perfect pair.

Aw come on be

my blood ballad, be my murder squad,

black and red, such a dread,

we will rule together from above.

You, my goddess of corpses,

You'll be my gorgeous parodus.

You are that little thing that rhymes with

'my the most prized possession',

the missing link in human evolution,

you are my new year resolution,

my soul mate I've been searching

over the edge and beyond,

let's serve those worthless maggots

a lesson in venom to end their plot.

We will blow up the human nursery

with the bucket of the kerosene,

Fireworks for the Valentine

like it's the forth of July.

Do you want presents?

I will pour them on you in thousands.

I'll cut you a perfect ambiguous guy,

I carve him a divine golden smile,

make his body into an art and shed apart,

spout him like a love potion

over the white roses

and serve them to your notice

under the sheer moonlight.

I will give you a six cannon platinum cart,

never ever has anyone saw such a beast,

and more than something to smile about

when blasting planes like paper leafs.

My epiphany I'll give you anything

aw shit - even an alien mutt piked on a spit.

I thought to myself, well, what a hell,

there must me something more about him and me,

I may even take a part in this unholy thing.

Him I must have been waiting, all this time,

he is everything I ever wanted, all I wished,

he puts a C in my cut heads, easily,

a D in my death treats, so effortlessly,

he WAS really something ... special,

out of this world, well aw damn, he was,

but you see, truth be told my heart is dead and cold,

there's no joy being taunting to a poltron.

Yes, he was a celestial.

Yes,a motherfucking extraterrestrial,

but there's this fine line, like a sword,

this sharp thing called 'I changed my mind',

this world is not to be divided

to fall ahead of time,

It was never meant to be a cannon of tragedy

for the dark progeny,

so I gave a cannibal god his perfect Valentine,

the most perfect gift so inhuman to give,

I handed him out the most dreadful thing from my nursery,

that horrible sheer ice entwined

with the darkest part of my heart,

like a snake choking it, drowning it forever.

I served him white roses painted with my poisoned misery,

aw lovable infinity, all that he wished to see,

all the horrors dying inside of me unseen,

injected genetically tremors, so perfectly designed,

scenario so well sequenced, almost engineered,

and I blasted him down from my sky

because that crown is mine, I am a ruler,

this world and all its love devoured to prosper.

What is a promise to an everyday slaughter

when their blood is bleeding me, eating me, feeding me.

I am a master, I took their bodies and they hijacked

everything inside of me and robbed me blind,

their sacred pain to me, their suffering given in free will,

I wear shackles, jackals, monster - around my soul

is tabernacle of their pain, my shrine is a nightmare,

their dauntless darkness is my soulless soul,

that thunder lit storm is my home they built into me,

he can't give me what's not his to give,

but what a hell and why, why not!

so much joy and so little time, idiot!

I blasted him down from my sky,

because even that mutt - EVEN THAT MUTT IS MINE.