​B​eneath 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....

 
 

​

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