The Count

                            Gold and brazen,

                            Here i, exists purely as i,

                            My wings of inferno and Elysium,

                             Purging you of your guiltless ways,

                             The truth nor the lies,

                            i am empyrean.

                     Away and away you tried,

                     For deliverance you hide,

                    Yet here you are,

                     Preyed upon, haunted,

                       Touch me pet, feel my colours,

                     Embrace me!

                       i am gales, i am sanctuary,

                     i am duae,

                          As i will soon envelopes your being,

                      For i am The Count,

                    The conqueror.

                  duae; number two in latin
                 
                  Poem by Dewi Joko

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The Awakening

Text Rick Burnett Baker


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The Unborn Couture

These multiples of self
gather pantomimes of creation
into ether-world thought,
a trinity of imagination

as evilly selfish
as it is kind;

as openly erotic
as it is stoic.

Cocooning above the mind of reality
there is determined celebration,

and with trepidation it mirrors
beginning thoughts of bravura,

dreams of catwalking
in solitary splendor -
with a twin or triplet
quiescent performance
before sheltering androgynous
beauty:

Sheltering this purpose

of unborn couture.

Text by Rick Burnett Baker

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The Last Witch of Unreality

“The midnight anthem, the embossing shadows, the crimson hollow, the horrid emblem”

Miserable as the harrowing willow tree,

Swaying against the cruelty,

Crushed in odious agony,

Pitiful soul on his knee,

“A chime of humanity, a meagre of decency, a hint of purity”

Love, he cannot make,

As the nightfall inclined to take,

Lost souls to harvest

To the devious darkness,

“But where it ends, beginnings always follow,”

The screeching clamours of contempt,

Finally ends,

This death is heaven send,

But wait!

This is not yet the finale,

“Hellish fire, thunderous sky, quakes of the earth”

The belly of hellish fire,

He had been,

A contract had been made,

To near insanity he pledge,

Blood, blood, blood!

“I will make of you, a beast of the unfathomable”

Whisperings echoes throughout the lonely void,

The darkness bellowed its victory,

Another one is yet to fall,

Another monster is yet to born,

With a roar,

He was reborn,

“Darkness ablaze within sorrow forever burn in hollow”

He cast their world of disdain,

With utmost misery,

Endless tortures,

Eternity of Soledad,

He rise as the witch of the inferno,

“A pact, a promise, a noose”

Again, the earth rumbles and tumbles,

The sky will fall,

A voice whispered

“I beseech thee lips, of an oath thy made”

His lips parted,

Horror in his eyes,

The insidious had taken him.

The Witch of Unrealities.

Story by Dewi


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