Tree of the ancients
shriveled branches of a tree so dark
embraced as my fingers paw o'er awesome wonder
gray, burnt, peeling ripples of bark.
I feel your spirit as a familiarity
I can hear my mothers voice as she
speaks with unknown clarity and say's,
Birds dare not perch in a tree of this searched out sort
they will rebuke its leafless hands, invisible evils
they sense, rejecting nests and shelters seeking fort.
I know of the witchcraft cast upon thee...
force thy mouth and hold not your tongue from me.
External worship and internal eroticism my mind remembers
of spoken lore and your legends seeded in haunted timbers.
Alone, for acres misshapen and twisted you stand
with young neighboring beauties planted in colors of bloom,
snickering and teasing thee throughout this old bygone land.
A demon and face shifter....feeding on fornicated sex and carnality,
women see only the face of their most tempted adulteresses desires.
Never doth two women envision the same face through lustful eyes that stare.
At times not even one word spoken and yet....they allow to dare.
Favored tool was he... he was said to be, a most wanted instrument played.
Sufficing the masters request's for sin and souls required...
after all... his master is the master who created the language of all liars.
No matter, a royal or paupers daughter...
between her thighs a pathway to intended and dripping fires.
Ah...but one rule his master repeatedly forbade...
never love, never love, never love....he said.
Demons dont love!.. but this one you did .
A beauty who saw the true demon of you,
yet understandingly loved all of you, forever within.
What else is a black heart to do? ...but
fiercely protect your demonic love from
your dutiful romance ending in dark sin.
Condemned forever in this frightful shell of a tree for all to see
hideous beauty once adored by numbers times infinity,
now stands unattractively as lonely as lonely can possibly be.
How can you fall blame for what you are born? Given what
you were given, never asking for these cursed horns.
Hear my voice and give me ear, for I have come to thee
that you may not suffer no more morrows of another year.
Perhaps you have no magic remaining in your ringed core
and his curse too powerful to see or speak a reply to any once more?
but know this, my old quiet one of ancient lore...
I have traveled many centuries and legends to find you, my
heart never healing from emotions that fester and sore.
Here beneath your wooden tomb, sits the fruit of your beloved's womb.
A child of legend and beauty resented and cursed...but survived by a
mothers love and lessons cradled in tightly held bosoms of hers. This
inherited beauty of times most attractive faces...marinating in the lusts
and wishes of men forgetting their vows and places.
The sweetest of mortals was mother, so fragile and heartbroken.
Never ceasing to teach me all she learned of you, with each
purchased token. Her words rang so hopefully true,
when her remembered face first time shown... onto my own ...
as I stood before this old tree of you...
Shall the black birds forever peck at this heart as thine?
NO..NO, I cry....for I am a master and overseer of the many beautiful faces
of mine. Alas, the time has come to end this drudgery shrined.
Hence, never will you be alone and without love, my dark father divine.
We blood relatives of the nephilims and angels, older than
the stories of all the bibles and their writers, cursed
and cast out of heaven for loving the beautiful below.
Mother knowing of my ageless body and time being my foe..
to be alone as this forever, if my father and our kind I never know...
To an end comes this long awaited search for thee,
my partial black heart is caught in raptures of sanctity.
Be not angered at my desperation and signed decree,
by I, your loving daughter to do as you...
my ancient father, did before me....
A pact with your master, I have made wholeheartedly...
to end both our torments and set thee free....