The Charnel Vaults ((A Long-Line Eldritch Narrative Poem) (Poetic Prose))

Should the corpse speak to the charnel heap, what would the corpse say?
Perhaps, “All that man is, is of but dust and water, and he thinks he’s a big deal?”
Or perchance, “In the end, man is thus, evaporable! And that is that!”
What would the catacombs say to all this?
“Down here it is just cold, drafty with damp walls, with deposits that are rotting, decaying, giving off dead air, and foul smells?”
Who’s to say, so I speak for them?
I think they might surmise, “All the wisdom of mankind can be put into one head, why so many? We need more room!”

Maybe a statement-question might arise: man is but a laden camel that snuck out of the deep dark Edenic vales long ago!
And since all he has done is go with the flow, or the flocks of geese, what more can God expect!
And then there are those who seek the irretainable plunder and booty, beyond redemption. What does God think?

Alas, man, if he has not walled himself into the likes of the ‘Gardens of Babylon and their diabolical ways, akin to Sodom and Gomorra and their in discretional ways’ what then, has he done?
And what he has done is for the most part on behalf of the crimson demons, given them the rights to devour him, when his time comes!

Demons, like ghouls and vultures they search and thirst for captives, knowing the mysteries of man’s desires and nature: be it, primeval silence, or clamor and glory or a scare-imaginable romance!

They want to bring mankind to Hell’s un-chartable extreme.
To demonstrate horror with their multitudinous count in horned heads, and devil like tails
To place them in their funeral vaults never to return.
Instilling coeval in generations to come, into the yet to be born souls, by proxy.
While the prime taskmaster, is still alive: thus, instill vertigo madness, and delirium.

From the mud-brick towers of perdition, they curse, and have long yawned for man to be part of their misery.

In Eden’s ebon corners, came desolation, troublous horror to the shores of all mankind in those latter days, after Adam and Eve were tossed out; Today, God’s tribulation, and trials by faith are hanging on a hinge, with a thin thread, as thin as a spiders silk like strand.

All this humanity was originated way back when, and that when is now coming to an end, perhaps we will be the least existed species the earth as ever known.

I doubt man will survive this coming generation; his extinction is around the corner.

In the worm gardens of porphyry, holds all the king’s, false clergy, ex-presidents, governors, mayors, monarchs, tyrants of industry, of old, and new.
All in enchained, in an enormous spider caged like cell, in the deep intestines of earth’s putrefying cold-

Now so old is this enormous room, so encrusted with an overabundance of white worms, they are woven into coats, and garments to keep the tyrants warm.

Over the enormous room, paces the Hydra-headed Demon, the keeper.
With a venomous love for his special guests by virtue of his pleasures measured in tortures.
Such as torturing with Cacophonic, jarring sounds.
Sounds of evil Dom that chills the marrow in the bones, and clogs the blood, chokes the heart, and vibrates one’s tissue.
He has his imps, constantly beating on the tabor drums, with the menacing music of the fifer, twisting ones prune wrinkled skin, to burst level.
He drops vampire bat oil on their heads from above, and lights them on fire.
He places a wrangling python around each and every ones ribs and breasts, and orders the python to curl.

It’s just simply his entertainment.

And so we, you and I, we’re sent out of darkness into a stirring world of air and twilight-
Sent forth by our elder’s eons ago, through fathomless births and rebirths, out of sullen blackness rippled and warped space and time, to this strange phase in time and space, in a certain place, from a land of no reflection of before.
Looking on the ramparts to find our creator, busting down infernal walls and doors, on our way, ending up in the Charnel Vaults-
Some of us being rescued by the blood of Christ!
Others groaning with the demons, the very ones who imprisoned them, us!
All in some allied brotherhood, with demonian Lords that traverse the earth, awaiting for the forthcoming prophecies; waiting for Christ’s re

Cloistered Poetry In the Abyss of Dreams ((The Old Tramp) (Poetic Prose))

He, the old tramp, had found a lost continent.
He dreamed a new world.
And he had stepped into it, -so long now had he drifted back and forth from it, he had forgotten who he had been.
But he mumbled often-to whom might have been listening-”Too many people around, too indifferent, self-absorbed.”

And so I write of this old man, brief as it is, a tramp I met, and I shall fill in the gaps of his life, which was more his dream world than, what we consider reality.

For the old tramp, his dream became reality for him.
The more he dreamed, the more it took on an enraged realism.
Outside of this dream world, the world to him was ugliness, and foul.
“Where truth was, was what people wanted it to be at any given time, and never revealed fully,” so he’d mumble.
“And pretense was worshiped, like Baal,” so he muttered.

Consequently, in this nebulous sort of dream life he found a new world that he could live in, day and night.
Disassociated with earthly existence, its struggle for survival, continuation, while his other world became more real, deeper, and more profound.

When he was awake, what he ate was for the most part, what he found which was seldom, during those last well-meaning forgotten days: that being: garbage thrown from opened windows of apartment buildings of the city!

His mind was shaped by thoughts and fantasies.
His awake life, was a life of pictures in the brain, he preferred the inward dreaming.
It was as if something was chaining him down.

In his alternate world there were enchanted hills, gardens that grew flowers that looked as red and glowing, as the sun, blinding sapphires, mountains that sang to the moon, whispering seas, bronze and gold roofed cottages-
And he himself, rode a caparison white horse, across carven bridges, white paths, watching the birds, bees and butterflies swarm the fields around him, in a placid manner.
Throughout the cedar forests, he leaped with his horse past the ivory gates of fetching cottages, and townships with tall steeple domed towers.

Always trying not to wake up, or if to, to drink more wine or his choice of drug-whatever he could find-to supply his habit to fall back into REM sleep, and deeper into the hashish world, for one more eloquent episode, one he was born for, and to get out of other one that he was thrown into.
One he preferred to exist in was not the one he was born into.

Should he have been awakened, all he saw was a fearful aurora of a ruined stagnated city, a reedy muddy garbage filled and verminous stream!
People staring out their windows at him, chocking on carbon dioxide of the passing cars, trucks.
Too, he knew he’d grow weary fast of the crudeness of the people’s emotions, and sameness, and they’d never understand his meaning of life.
And then once in reality, full reality, clean and sober, where would come the satisfaction or fulfillment?
That which he had left in yore, way back in his gallant dreamland.
Was this not in itself the antidote?
Old popular doctrines, inflexible cures, most cures were muddled thinking.
He wanted to escape, or find its equal, like Gilgamesh who sought out Enkidu, because of boredom.
No one took the time to find out the secret pits in his life, those that described him, he had a room for each, hung in aspirated colors.

And then one day, out of the blue, a rift came, a chasm appeared, a fissure opened up-like an earthquake, in the deep hollows of his dreams!
He fell down, down, way-way down into its abyss.
And there was his biggest achievement, he found it, the Radiant City of Crystals and Pearls- “This,” he whispered, “is where I’ll stay and live, it’s where I belong!”

This magical world so vivid, once in fragments now all together, associations of his mind fell into one vista, a breathless expectancy, one that was unquenchable.

He felt a tugging on his shoulder, it was likened to python was trying to pull him out of the city.
“No, no” he cried, but nobody heard him.
The old lady tried with all her effort to wake the Old Tramp, laying on a damp mattress thrown away as garbage, and full of ants, ticks and bedbugs, and white worms, in an empty lot, within the greater city, a metropolis.
Lo, a police officer then approached, felt his pulse, he wasn’t sure.
He took a long, long glace for movement, at the laying old tramp!
Even tapped him lightly in the face to wake him.

But the old man was warm, feeling the breezy sea lull, watching the clouds drift over a village cliff (in the land of make believe).

One of the several curious strangers that had crowded around this limp body, said in a loud cry: “Someone please take him to a hospital!” although he reserved the right to back off.
Then the police officer announced that he was dead.
Saying to the old lady that had waved him on: “I’ve seen him here before-he was a dreamer, a drunk, a user of drugs; although he did find something out of all this,” and he hesitated to say what he thought, as the old lady waited patiently to hear his closing remarks, “calm, lasting beauty, only comes in a dreams… what the real world threw away long ago!”

For those alluring moments, the old tramp was observing the region where the sea meets the sky.
He refused to allow the python to wake him, or the bugs slapping his face.
And all those who at the present knew he had passed on, to wherever, they too, went on their way, to wherever.

Our Beautiful Planet, Earth, the Heart of Life for Humanity, Worthy of Our Love and Care

From the beginning of time, we have been given a temporary place to stay;

With clean air, show you care, do you dare to publicly take a stand and demonstrate your love for the planet?

Though the date and time of expiration unknown, we individually can choose to excel and thrive in the time that we are eagerly and productively alive!

Each life seen as a bold, glistening, beaming star: you are the star of your own Broadway Show: listening to their own sweet souls calling…

Questioning what direction life is to take? It is in your inner thoughts that the answer shall be resolutely, resoundingly and remarkably revealed?

Your progress sealed with innovative ingenuity, all that your limitless mind can imagine, designed and fathomed in you own unique, inborn fashion. When you design with judicious, unequivocal compassion, you show dashing resolve and phenomenal passion.

Our planet too was designed with passion in boundless awe and remarkable appeal. An example, any one of the Seven Wonders of the world, the Egyptian Pyramids to name a few.

The mountains, the hills, the daffodils; the ocean breezes, the Antarctic freezes, all wonderful and gloriously designed: Our beautiful, planet: Earth… Worthy of our time, care, focus and admiration. Just try to take a vacation? Which planet provides the sky for you? Until we move to Mars, realize that the earth is ALL ours to serve and protect.

If you move the letters for the spelling of earth in a different order, remember that when you spell the word earth, you can also spell the word heart. Our earth is at the heart of everyone’s ability to genuinely survive and continue to live the way that we have lived for centuries with of course, an amazing twist, we can now live in the knowledge that earth is getting ready to experience new growth and renewed confidence by the way that the conscience collective is recognizing the importance of planetary health and the hiccups that come along with modern-time life-style.

As we get closer and closer to wind, solar and non-traditional resources of energy, we get lighter and enlightened throughout the patience, that we gain, while waiting for the process to change our planet and to make it a lot safer than it has been in the last few generations. Our planet is affected by the sun, the moon, the stars and of course by what takes place on earth. Our planet is our heart and worth our time, care, focus and intention; intend to do at least one thing a day to help heal or restore our planet and the environment to be indemnified or at least to lead to a healthier life for you.