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1. |
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We are creatures lurking in the dark,
Performing deeds unholy In this holy place
Perfect as the nature that we impose ourselves intrinsically
These essences - proximal to Mysticism – are just beyond the reach of shallow darkness.
They belong to the laws that rule over us: cruel, lavishing,and poisonous as everything really is.
Nos Ossos que aqui estamos,
pelos vossos esperamos
And we experience the shuteye for one flash of blinding perplexity.
The cruel reality of existence is at the grasp of our understanding, yet so fathomless, so incomprehensible. Seems the crudeness of it’s purpose is beauty? But what is it really?
Suddenly I feel like glimpsing through past anguish! As hollowed-out by my inner flashes of reason.
Aonde vais,caminhante, acelerado?
Pára…não prossigas mais avante;
Negócio,não tens mais importante,
Do que este, à tua vista apresentado.
Recorda quantos desta vida tem passado,
Reflete em que terás fim semelhante,
Que para meditar causa é bastante
Terem todos mais nisto parado.
Pondera,que influído d'essa sorte,
Entre negociações do mundo tantas,
Tão pouco consideras na morte;
Porém, se os olhos aqui levantas,
Pára…porque em negócio deste porte,
Quanto mais tu parares, mais adiantas.
I linger, still - recalling those pure and perfect hours.
I am darker, but have I become kinder or more discourteous?
I have opened to the oceans, to the world and to the stars, putting to rest those remnant stems upraised & eager to perpetuate their own naive nature
We are creatures lurking in the dark,Performing deeds unholy In this holy place
Perfect as the nature that we impose ourselves intrinsically
These essences - proximal to Mysticism – are just beyond the reach of shallow darkness.
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2. |
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As caveiras descarnadas
São a minha companhia,
Trago-as de noite e de dia
Na memória retratadas
Muitas foram respeitadas
No mundo por seus talentos,
E outros vãos ornamentos,
Que serviram à vaidade,
E talvez…na eternidade
Sejam causa de seus tormentos.
I try to toss/turn/undulate spasmodically when confronted by a cause, or blaze!
I have been repulsed by any lack of confidence - any lie in heart - any failure in answering those pine & prime riddles which hide beneath damp soil or within traditions that may have always had the answers - of which I still, and likely cannot ever know.
As vacant Cathedral organs jotting annihilation inside my soul – like chasing incantations unknown to me until overcome by yawning & heartache - I wake, still in dreamlike state
I wonder of perhaps the perilous Chapel that beckons me and that farther horizon are at once the same place. My trial – the choice between Paradise and Paradise Lost.
I experience the rippling light in water balancing my mind, a sea of smoke. As I experience the godlike peace of slowly drowning in-between sacred bodies.
As vacant Cathedral organs jotting annihilation inside my soul – like chasing incantations unknown to me until overcome by yawning & heartache - I wake, still in dreamlike state
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3. |
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Folded soft dreams or these white fangs glowing ravenously – what is my primordial complexion?
Is swiftness or delirium? – These impressions of Saturn tarnishing your lips – the ultimate temptation – the disguised black mental howls - the softness of your flesh is now stone in somber awareness. That bottomless pit I fall for eternity.
...I bid farewell to the Holy Mountain of your being
as I contemplate alone - in a night terror that is also transfiguring - a terror only possible when felt from great distance and height, now exponentially taller than the quivering Mountain of touchable holiness - yet sensing its entire weight crack against the sky like music displaces rain and love shudders memory. I am one with the dark clouds that mold the night sky. And I do not pour down…I drift in the heights of my displacement. I do not know, I do not physically feel anymore…this numbness is whole. I am the whole numbness of existence.
A servidão devora a pele azeda,
definha sobre nossos órgãos expostos
e os apaga em um banquete de vermes?
A servidão serve a nossa nudez de marfim
como um banquete para as gerações vindouras,
condenando nossa nudez absoluta para a eternidade?
A servidão comanda os vermes,as moscas,
os seres que apagaram nossas feições,
para que nossos restos de ossos
se amontoem em grandes quantidades para seu maior louvor?
Porquê?
Foda-se, porquê?
Night Chapel / Mercurial infinite of black-ribbon silk returning, the bindings of a separate cosmology - tethered within our own, a Prima Materia -disheveling the womb of our decadent casket Mother The marks we left behind us are long forgotten in my grotesque anonymity! I have become an opening to all others - a gate of gates – the destiny in bloodless and fleshless ivory.
That proud God on the altar, the gardener prepares for Empyrean, while I will endure the waiting for the never coming consecration!
Bring me salvation ! bring me fire ! bring me the disruptive forces of nature to crumble down this stockade
Or remake me to make myself whole again.
As poignantly and sincerely as others can be themselves.
Scrutinized by the graceful specters passing by, hideaways, climates doused in hungry fog. They collect mementos of my offering to the realm of chaos.
Ironia divina na morte
Porque estou morto
E condenado ao inferno na Casa do Senhor
Condenado a definhar na Capela dos Ossos
And they imagine timid projections of those once existent, dancing beneath the New Moon. Little do they know that’s only an animistic supper for fresh senses& sweetness, youthful flesh in mist - Earthly appetites so easily satisfied to consign to oblivion the real suffering of those encrusted…like me
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4. |
Part IV - Lazarus
09:00
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Este é o dia.
Esta é a hora, este o momento, isto é quem somos, e é tudo.
Perene flui a interminável hora que nos confessa nulos.
No mesmo hausto em que vivemos, morreremos.
Colhe o dia, porque és ele
Tudo quanto vive,
vive porque muda;
muda porque passa;
e, porque passa, morre.
Tudo quanto vive perpetuamente se torna outra coisa,
constantemente se nega,
se furta à vida
If I am aware, my awareness of the fire suggests power!
Stumbling upon Bonehouse Havens
where candelabrum multitudes and daylight windows brightly eclipse any exits (is there another space other than this I dwell in?)
It seems other states of being have existed, with the presence of music filling the lobbies of my past life with fluttering commotion. Mirrors speculate about the contemplation of other realities long gone.
These walls mitigate poetry, replacing it with mumbled awe and tinkled horror.
Repetitions - harmony upon harmony whistling wall to wall
I see birds in lulled imagination, escaping free through the windows as they flee our fixed tension points. Freedom fissures in the clouds they orbit - Mourning our stranding, singing their privilege of mastering their magisterial ladders. They grasp their release, we strand on our prison.
Textures flattering the fires that burn within
As we plea exemption to the shining godhead on the pedestal
Mourning who makes right the wrongs of our thoughts,
as nothing can be hidden in the omniscient eye of that statue that imprisons us as their religious advocators.
We strand unhidden, naked, obscene and polished, eaten, and heathen.
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5. |
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Here I lay in the dead of night, meditating about the nothing, about the everything, about the void,
And often I sense this stranger's face there with me. It has no body, it has no soul. Without a body – without a spirit and still a presence
It observes me and I don’t know why or what does it see.
It’s the shape of silence. It is silence embodied in nothingness.
A servidão que eu nunca quis, foi imposta a mim pelos servos vivos de uma divindade que deveria nos servir a paz graciosa depois que partirmos?
A promessa de descanso eterno quebrada em cada olhar, em cada momento desta fixada ostentação.
A morada exposta, a carne ausente, a demente saciedade mórbida num tormento sem fim…sem sossego
O destino, enfim, revelado em angustiante quebranto. Em perpétuo escaparate.
Yet strangely burns, shivers, incarnates parts of my levitating awareness scorching it, devouring it. Like the cleansing of fire does while easing away the cold flames.
And cold fills the room in secrecy again - we are at last whole with nothing
And in this moment - equality forms – the whole, the nothing and everything in between
A deafening trumpet calls out for those last wandering strands of consciousness - which, at varying speeds and distances - find their way through the fog
and towards the silence
They vanish
I vanish, denied
Like a denied Lazarus, I shall not rise from these cemented bones. Clustered within the walls of the chapel that exposes me to the world…
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SALQIU PE, Brazil
A mysterious entity swallowing the light into the darkest abyss, marching mechanically into the realms of Salqiu, the most
obscure Lusitanian Warrior God of the Dead and the Underworld...
there is a Cosmos in the Underworld. A Dark, obscure aura that must be unveiled...
... more
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