| The Rites of Undeath herein contained were scribed by Koshii under the direction of Muse |
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| Why cast you such a dark and vicious light into the deep and misty pulsing night? Do you not know the pow'rful forces nigh May singe or wither up the curious eye? O caution, lovely one with wistful glance, Before you enter in this churning dance! With such a sleepless eye that, guarding here, can twist any a light and harmless fear, Do you still dare to wander to this place, putting in jeopardy your perect face? Know this, the tattered ones that wander nigh Were once as beautiful as you or I. |
| Afterstorm The dimness drapes itself like a curtain of crepe over the tired sun, the sheer walls quieting and turning blue like a day old corpse; A chill tha has slithered up from the rocks and shaded sides of trees has pushed its fingers; smooth, bony, up the spines of the last stragglers and laid cool pools of itself upon the silent hungry earth; small faces of flowers suffer in sadness and count their toes, miserable; the last stragglers float drifting, like empty ships across the mirrored dark of the sky the sky |
| He Fell He fell as silent and tender as a black petal to the floor. He will never say anything or want anything, or laugh or sleep again; his eyes watched unseeing his witness, one ant scout hurry across the room on its own business. It never minded the newly ruined thing, but to wave, in passing, one feeler at him. The dust sighed. The house sighed, tasting his warm blood from this broken fountain of gods. He fell like wet snow falls on a cold earth, unwanting of this sacrifice. Nothing but his shadow reached up to cradle him and catch him as he fell, for the last time in his existance |
| Do you know a dead man? His anger all faded, his eyes clouded from the light; He cannot hear you cry today in his box deep gone to earth where his dreams are quiet and of nothing Do you know a dead man? He wanted me to tell you of the last thing you saw, to say you may see what he never will. You may taste again summer's fruits, but his tongue is clenched upon formeldehyde and Valium, endlessly bitter. O dead man, so quiet, do you miss the wind? |
| To Choose: By the Sun, through his Gate Sends his knives glinting down By the Moon, in her Boat Drops her pearls on the ground Call the Wind to your hand And the Fire to your voice Send the Stars wheeling by Drop your palm, make your choice: With the North comes the chant, Comes the Wind and the Word; Receive knowledge of all Ne'er repeat what you've heard. The East brings you great change, Intuition and Sight The Wisdom of the Sea Servitude to the Night. Choose the South; its passion And its fire are great: The blood speed of the war And the power of hate. From the West is the strength To move mountains and men, To bring down health or death Or rebirth, once again. Choose it well, for once spake It cannot be undone. Call the Moon, call the wind And the Sight and the Sun: For be ware and be warned, All things come at a price: When you pay your hard sum, You must pay for it thrice. |
| Don't ask where I've been. A gently stepping Question has become evident, dark as lashes closed against a pale fate. Your final motion will be plumb. You love a critic, and this new-striped wallet is empty of sympathy. Spent, Returned, did you ever doubt your credit with the fluttering skirts of pestilence? Clenching, falling, a twisted tendon feels for purchase. Some nights ago it came. The clock is wantimg to move backward, too many pauses between times... I feel each in my palms... |
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