Dark Love

The poet steps
into the mansion
of slain dreams

a blank notebook
in his hand

a vagabond

vying for words
and poems…

the goddess of dark love
has invited him
for dinner tonight


his vision travels
through the dead lights

his secrets shaken

and oblivious,
he loses his way

and so , he finds her
hours later

in the arsenal
of miracles and dark magic

tracing the humid song
of the gramophone

as the lotus
unfurls
through the eddies of darkness

and morphs into
a lady of strange appeal

who sits there
sipping the wine
of black lust and lonely shadows

her lips
smudged with auburn blood

serpents worshipping her eyebrows

her hair
crucified with the skulls
of forgotten lovers

as the solemn candlelight
surrender to those eyes

slowly

the wind is soporific

hypnotizing the poet
with its cold whispers

as he stands there

frozen

a murdered rose
bleeds on the table

her womb
cursed with
zygotes

offered by the white rivers
of artists and clowns

she wants to bury them
in the red chest
that lies on her table

forever

before she serves the dinner
for him

burnt
with the kiss of death

The Rendezvous

the artist
sits in the quiet corner
of the café

green demons
trickling down his throat

a vortex of bohemian
tunes in his mind

igniting predicaments…

nebulous thoughts crawling in
through the pages

rising through the winds
and morphing into a fireball
of rebel dreams

which collide
with the marble floor
and the walls

echoing through
the empty hole
of his head

he writes
he writes

the letters
dancing to the eerie serenade
of morphined loneliness

figures of stone
all around

his surreptitious eyes
wandering among desecrated
theories

seeking redemption



when his eyes meet
her virgin shadow

there she arrives..

dressed in scarlet

the lucid moon
breathing on her lips

and her beauty
unveiling the atlas
of his lost romance

he captures them

slowly
in his memory of fossils
and corpses

as he finds
a cavalcade
of festered imaginations
strolling around

her voice
giving birth to coveted prophets
whispering parables
of love and romance
with every stroke of the finger

and capturing him
in the seductive asylums
of poems and figures

yet again…