18) Rhymester's Shadow

With roots and filled-in hollow air, He writes to you poetic obscurities; He goes, my friend, where The homeless dare: where "Beauty is for the few” and into The boundless cosmos and tombs; Into and onto exotic landscapes, Where poems—like bones— Have decomposed; Where darkness comes like all shadows: To lock you in its tombs….

Dim and gray is his twilight, As slowly dies his days— But fate's poetic obscurities, Would have it no other way: For the Rhymester's shadows— Never rest.

19) The Executioner of Chan Chan

Writ after visiting Chan Chan, an archeological site in Northern Peru.

Hungry, fearless, in a faceless form, Likened to a mask, a monster forlorn, He was the woe, the living dead, From nightmares he was fed—

The Executioner of Chan Chan.

Bleak was his dawn, cold his heart, Lulled by those whom would soon die— Subdued by the temples' mud-baked Bricks—he decapitated his lot, sacrificially—

This Moche Warrior of Chan Chan.

April 29 2004 [8:00 PM].

20) Mercury's Demise (As Semyas meets Azaz'el)

Part of a story—writ a few hours before a flight from St. Paul to South America.

Mercury! Such awful sight Planet of darkness, with no eyes, Ware the Great Asteroids that bite: The sun no longer gives you light….

A hellish moment: your demise, Candles blown out, like blinded eyes: Dust resides in your volcanic skies— Two souls are left, that want to die.

April 2, 2004

21) Buried Souls from the Rephaim

And there his sarcophagus lay— Beneath the towering mountains— Stretching out of the deep, dark sea (With all its weight, sealing his fate)— No light, no day, only binding chains. Lost, forgotten in the sand's density….

Where no travelers have yet been: No roads or skies to befriend; Faceless skeletons, silent voices: They all embraced in this veil of dark— Embraced by looks, face to face— Hungry to fill the emptiness of space.

Note: The Refaim Circle, otherwise known as the 'Gilgal Refaim,' is the only megalithic astronomical complex on earth, built 3000 BC, in the area now known as: the Golan Heights; made out of 37,000 tons of stones. It has been said it was constructed y biblical giants; comprising more area than at the Gaza pyramids.

22) The Poet Demon

"There are maggots under my feet, Incense and madness in my tomb,” He cries…he sighs, he never dies: He dances to flutes, tapping feet, And human fleece, and never knows why.

Oh yes, a tomb—with no spine, Full of hopelessness, despair… Sacrificial-gloom everywhere; A hooded serpent of the deep, He knows that he will never sleep.

23) The Birds of Genovesa

The beautiful gloom of Genovesa's Unfathomable vaults of birds Peering from white eerie wooden sticks— Vampires: Atlantean Vampires— Clinging to trees that look like twigs, Great idols looming—homelessly— Your days belong to a primal calendar I see….

10:30 AM, April 23 2004

Note: Written four hours after leaving the island of Genovesa, in the Galapagos.

24) The Devil's Rose

Roses of black and orange From hell's cryptic doors, They are scorned—lo, Like blood in a storm: Bred by malefic jackals, Hell-howling Hyenas— Sealed in coffins by nails, Incarcerating their evil enchantments; Guarded by the Demon Ghost, alas— Should a rose be lost or stolen, It puts blood—upon the soul!— Cold, cold—blood.

This is the forbidden rose— Descended from Satan's breath, Made from his waste—puss and piss, His vomit and sweat, his blasphemy Inside the scent.

Incantations echo, emitted; Discharged, from its pores: Should you pass it to another, Take it as a gift— You seal your death.

April 6 2004, Lima, Peru

25) Hieroglyphs of Doom

I'm always surprised How an artist can make Ugliness, death, gloom Decay, demonic-hues— And Satan himself look… Lovely.

The tomb and urn, darkness, Plague, crawling toads, slime: All vanish into uncharted Flares of solar fire— Fires of beautiful light?

I'm always surprised How the atheist seals, Locks his tomb—while Looking, looking for light!

Successfully, we slowly carve Our hieroglyphs of doom.

3:30 PM, April 14 2004, Lima, Peru

26) Mirrors and Marrow

On this hot and cold, bold, Windy earth, with its breathless Tireless twists, and curves, Is not life a street, a city of Stone, ink and bread— Of he

art, essence and will? Where arched-holy steeples Tower and blink, at moving Souls?

Where

Poverty is the mirror for all, Whence you climb, eternally Wanting the treasure that, That to only a few befalls; In sadness, each part—dies, Wishing they had climbed more walls.

April 11 2004, Lima, Peru

27) The Lotus Demons' Lair (The Lotus Demon of Mercury)

Lo, the toiling sun spins Above the roof of his den, Above the Great Volcanic Crater Of Mercury—where The Lotus Demons live.

With unshadowed images, Spun in the friendless deep, As fate would have it, none, None who enter—escape.

April 13 2004, Lima, Peru

28) Earshot

The FBI was after him (So he claims) Fearful of Castro (If not everything)

No money for taxes Living in a drunken stupor Trying to finish a manuscript ("A Moveable Feast”) Allusions to suicide Blood pressure going high

No doctors please He cried (The Mayo Clinic nearby)

Suicide scenario Depression took His soul and character

He bought death with Consuming drinks He even conned himself (I think)

Violently angry Pinned in blame For an insane life He tried to lead

From Paris to Cuba To Ketchum he was Was he an old man lost Lost at sea

Hemingway Shotgun in hand with His big-toe pulled The trigger very slowly And off flew his cranium

March, 2004

Note: considered for an award; also, reviewed by Barns and Noble, Poetry Review [competition], Rossville, Minnesota.

29) House without Windows

I am building a house with no windows And a very small door, And my friends all ask me why.

Life has been for me full of anxiety— And I care not to let it in any more; So you see, I am making a very small door.

And having no windows allows What is outside not to look in— Thus freeing my spirit to rest again….

Note: published in the Magazine: The Mango Tree, out of India [August/September, 2004]

30) Armageddon's Hecatomb

Know ye that His kingdom shall come— In days hence, thy days shall be gone (I like former dust: dayless, Speaking from chambers long gone)— From Hell to Earth the demons come (A tinge of gladness in their songs)— Thou shalt live to see them.

Lo—a great army from the north Cometh, cometh, in full force; Soon, sword and flesh shall shortly meet: On the field of Armageddon.

Quoth the Demon of the Pit, "Alas!”; For, upon the Throne of Earth, He whose Horse is White sitteth And biddeth farewell, As doth ebb the realm of hell.

31) Armageddon's Incubus

In Europe, the enchantress sculpts— From earth to hell—peculiar spells, Makes a changing world ebb.

From within her sphere's crystal gaze— Dark shadows, blood-soaked graves, Molded steps that lead to nowhere,

Time's phantoms— All of whom are tyrannous— Walk up and down these eldritch stairs,

Waiting to call together iron forces: The architects of war. Unremitting silence masks the globe

Of mortal woes and secrets told; And now that wisdom's turned about, Draws forth Abyssal demon-cults

(All mobilized, coming to life). Funerals, pendulums, brutality: It's all part of what must be.

32) Nightmare

He lives within the deep Where others never sleep— Monstrous fathoms below, Where lava rivers flow, And crowding waters rush.

He is the nightmare demon With a flat, untraversable form— Lying in a bottomless tomb, Undoomed, haply awakened, Awaiting slumber.

Note: This poem was inspired by the Clark Ashton Smith's picture,' Nightmare', and was written right after the purchase of the original picture from Tom Strausky, who purchased it through G. de la Ree, circa l980; at which time the picture was named.

33) Glossary of End Times

Four Horses Running wild Hoof beats awaken The hungry and sleeping world Waiting for the seventh trumpet Angels are in the winds Hail and fire and blood Burning mountains Falling

Birth pangs And three woes The Seventh Trumpets The Seven Bowls The Seven Seals False Prophet The Dragon The Beast Anti-

Christ Takes the Place of Christ

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