Beyond the Black

 

Beyond the black is dream alone.

Its varied shapes are seldom known.

It shifts to match the searching eye

Afore such sight can start to scry.

No lucid truth is left behind

Within the reach of waking mind

No revelation waits the light.

Before the morn, it's taken flight

On darkling wings that melt away

By the shine of breaking day.

Brief moments see their trails disperse

Like fading notes of vanished verse.

Where dawn would reach, they cannot hold.

Bold by night, their banners fold.

No reason forms the brief retreat.

Never shall the conscious meet

The vast advance and worthy rack

Of lore that's lost beyond the black.


Reign On

 

A smile of timeless poise abides

As distant, disparate kin convene.

A steely wisdom subtly guides

With noble wit and vision keen.

 

Enthroned in grace, her pose is still,

But eyes of dauntless age disport.

The glories of her glances fill

The corners of her comely court.

 

The season shifts. An era ends.

That seemly soul departs the scene.

Her reign remains as she ascends

To realms that best befit a queen.

Love Thickness

The vein runs deep with passion’s flow.

Love’s ichor seeps toward the core.

Liquid lust reveals a spoor

Wherein its viscous vice may show.

 

 

Alight with scents of ebon tar,

The straits of sensual fury boil.

With oily gleam, their torrents roil

Through steaming streamlets fast and far.

 

Traced in tracks of treacly tricks,

Swirls of slickest passion stir.

Ferocious seas of sick allure

Seethe in sin of vicious mix.

 

A sanguine sluice sends the urge

To every nerve but never slakes.

In full the venom’s vigour wakes

Where runs of wanton will converge.

Cold Creche

 

Light on a leaf brings a spark of relief

To lands unattended and pale.

Let hollow terrain now swallow its pain

Neath winter's immaculate veil.

A vasty white cloak might threaten to choke 

Vitality's mote from the earth,

But there's hope to be found through the chills that surround

The seeds that precede a rebirth.

 

A barren disguise hides the immiment rise 

Of vibrancy's stubborn return.

It's hanging on still with the flickering will 

Of a candle's resilient burn.

Under frigid veneer, a new reign is near.

It stirs as its spirit grows strong.

Naught's fully lost in the fastness of frost,

And nothing is fallow for long.

 

 

Boho Barbarian

 

Strike your lips against the sky.

Shake the haze out with your cry.

Trample on in boots of suede.

Celebrate a raving raid.

 

Your hair's the match of any crown.

Berserker beats are bearing down.

Swing the blade of screaming style.

Whip across with whirlwind wile.

 

Shatter sieges with your strut

For fetes of fame and glory's glut.

Sing to bring the thunder out.

Lightning rides upon your shout.

 

Superfine fury's on stage.

Rage beyond bonds of the age.

Savory Sense

 

Rap me in your sly embrace.

Entrap with trances, glee, and grace.

A frosty moon that rises soon

Shall dance with summer's final trace.

 

Spice the scents that stain the skies.

Entice with tricks and shifty sighs

Quiescent tones that chill the bones

Lie deep within candescent cries.

 

Seize me with a sultry breeze.

Exult before the season flees.

Assault my sight with stubborn light

That warmly wards off future's freeze.

 

Subtly have the shadows massed.

Their young domain is cool and vast.

Maintain your grasp through autumn's rasp

And hold your heat unto the last.

 

Fraud and Fulgor

Take from me my thunder!

Rob me of my roar.

Strip me of my sinew

And lift away my lore.

 

Imitate my ire.

No sham will be the same.

Forgeries of fire

Shall fade against my flame.

 

None can match my mettle.

No fake could face my force.

Cries against my clamor

Are fated to be hoarse.

 

Dim before my candour,

Deception soon will show.

Frail affronts now falter,

And falseness falls below.

The Hour After Autumn

In the hour after autumn,

There’s an old, unsteady glow.

It enshrouds the fallen season

Till the winds of winter blow.

 

There’s a moment in the gloaming

As the sighs of summer cease

When the weather wends its roaming

Through a slight and sombre peace.

 

Though the cracks are surely showing

In the frailty of the heat

As the calls of cold are growing,

There’s no haste in its retreat.

 

Till hibernal chills awaken

And the flights of frost arrive,

Ancient ardour shan’t be shaken.

Still the strains of sun survive.

Time at Least

Before the final ember tires

Within the hearth’s inviting fires,

There’s time at least for joyous feast

Among the songs of ageless choirs.

 

The sanctum of the season’s hollow

Wherein no sullen storm may follow

Allows at last a ripe repast

And lets the livened laughter wallow.

 

As darkling skies descend to glower

About the tips of tinsel bower,

Embrace the taste of wishes placed

Upon the fringe of festive hour.

The Softest Curse

Her fingers dance in wicked tunes.
Her wrists release infernal runes.
Her softest curse inflames the air
And spreads the scent of soul despair.
By her whim is ruin wrought .
Destruction seeps from idle thought.
Her hex withholds no hint of pain
But sends in force her fullest bane.
Strife escapes beyond her smile
As ire aches in every wile.
Disaster springs behind her tread
And leaves a wake of comely dread.
By shattered oath and shallow vow,
She lets no doubt distort her brow.
No crease or furrow marks her face.
No mercy cracks the mien of grace.

 

The Sound of Flight

Beyond a fine facade of cloud,

Her spirit struts across the air.

In welkin's eviternal shroud,

She wears her hopes upon her hair

Like jewels that sultry visions bring

Of foreign skies where wishes wing.

 

A chain of prayers adorns a chest

That fortune's fickle rays have scarred.

It shimmers through with futures blessed

By shifty strands of vague regard.

Below it rests a painted clasp

Of hues that wait before her grasp.

 

A brace of metal hugs her wrist.

It bears a gem upon its face

That twinkles with each moment's twist

To gird for time's mechanic pace.

The formless tricks of fate's reveal

Reflect within its fluid steel.

 

No sooth assaults her free delight.

It's lost amid the sound of flight.

 

Interior Mirror

On argent peak, an arbor sways

And cloaks the mountain with its verd.

It hides its home from daylight's rays.

Behind its boughs, no sound is heard.

 

A private sky neath leafy dome

Lurks always on the edge of night,

And stars like secrets freely roam

Mid lofty branch in gracious flight.

 

The trunk in silent glory stands

As colours run along its height

In vivid shades and vaguer strands

That play upon a plane of white.

 

Upon the bole are symbols borne

That ward the glade from sun's purview.

Beneath the bark, dim marks adorn

A surface of a darker hue.

 

A tale of other lands they show

In shapes not carved by mortal will.

They move about with silent skill

And tell of all the world below.

Beneath the Mountain

The winds that whipped our brows abate.

The chills that cracked our will subside.

No peril stole our promised fate.

Naught stands against the force of pride.

 

Our revel’s full return now rings.

It brings a song to ancient ears

And stirs the souls of sleeping kings

That lie beneath the weight of years.

 

They wake in grace to timeless strains

That play for all their slumber missed.

They join the joyous tune’s refrains

With lips that tender triumph kissed.

 

They cry for aeons held in shade

And ages that were spent to yearn.

For every dream that ever strayed,

Their regal voices freely burn.

 

Their hymn extends through lightened halls

To boast of newly bolstered fame.

The toast is borne beyond their walls

Across the lands that they reclaim.

 

Beneath the barrows, bellows rise

And ride above their mountain tomb.

A godly throne of solid guise

Now stands where sombre graves did loom.

 

The lay at last has found its place

To rule within this hilly fane.

Below the mound, in earth’s embrace,

It sounds the dawn of awesome reign.

 

Slice

Reflect my love upon the night.

Let stars infect this noble sight

With moments of their ancient glow.

Give nascent heavens cause to know

The glories wrought upon a plane

Of wretched death and distant pain.

A scene removed from silent care

Receives a breath of sweeter air.

Behind a veil of blind delight

Sing wonders bathed in clearer light.

Abandon hues of rose and jade.

Envision life in golden shade.

Create a kingdom with your kiss.

Rejoice in gardens of your bliss.

Apart from darkness, freedom flows.

Within the world, a new one grows.

Embrace the promise of that seed.

It blossoms with a secret creed.

Supreme are dreams of joy serene.

The wish surrounds in florid sheen.

Its presence marks a hidden state

Of honest hope and liquid fate.

Be truth! Believe! Let love entice

A private kind of paradise.

Baby Lord

She wears her spark like a fox in the dark.

She comes in a cloak of allure.

She’s the queen of her dreams, and her lunacy gleams.

The light of delight’s in her purr.

 

She’s cut from the night, and the stars are her sight.

She travels in madness and mist.

She’s a shot in the sky that brings showers of rye.

Her smile leaves her mouth in a twist.

 

Her wish is the flame that her courtesies claim.

It turns in capricious intent.

Her own hope is the heat that erupts from her feet.

It burns with a saccharine scent.

 

Her look is a force of celestial source.

Her magic is dire and bright.

She’s a witch of the wild and a singular child.

Her wit is her power and might.

 

She shivers in dance and delirious trance.

The art of her heartbeat is true.

She’s an honest empuse, and she moves like a muse.

The shriek of the wind is her clue.

 

She’s strange, but her craze can be wise in its ways.

She raves in the manner of time.

She behaves with a bent that delusions invent.

She carries a sweet kind of clime.

 

Her sorcerous breath may be sanity’s death.

Her chaos perceives no domain.

Though the realm of her rule is the view of a fool,

None sully her immanent reign.

  

The thread of her thought makes a masterful knot.

Unbound are the sounds of her mind.

She’s the form of the dread that proceeds from her head.

She’s the reason that savagery finds.

 

The Spire

What sights on stricken cliff arrive?

On stormy feasts do visions thrive

With tastes of lust and vanished days.

The blessed eye this scene surveys.

High promontories gird the fear

Of fortunes passed and burdens dear.

The waves erode the withered stone

In thrall to winds of lonely moan.

Upon these seas did passion ride

In times concealed by fog and pride.

Those currents carried once the care

Of urge unbound and fury bare.

No logic would their pull deny;

No love’s embrace matched that of sky.

No lips could kiss with hope to win

Against the mists that graced the skin

With sure caress and promised fate

Of glories vast and journeys great.

No signs persist of broken vow;

That jealous call’s deserted now.

Bereft is breast of bold intent.

The limb is thus to languor sent.

No fresh horizons shall it grasp.

No ear shall note the ocean’s rasp

That rants with verve to greet the rise

Of morning’s light in eager cries.

No march shall meet that crawling tide

With hastened step and easy stride.

That ancient rage shall linger here

With sorrow no monsoon could steer.

It places not its foot before

The orchid breach that did implore

The soul to drift in sunken past.

Too swiftly were those yearnings cast

To depths no endless gaze could break.

No wonderment attends in wake

To wander through those turquoise thrones.

Those waters that had gladly flown

Desire to its destined port

Rescind the summons of their court.

No stars can rouse this form from rest.

No ventures beckon or invest

Their powers on a wreck so still.

No stubborn force of former will

Survives to show its fallen truth

Or exercise a moment’s ruth.

No exile strength or vacant might

Can orchestrate a futile fight.

Submerged in dread and anguish old,

Those erstwhile fires fade to cold.

No movement do these flames ignite;

They stir the silent squalls of spite.

In seething fits of swollen gale

Mix haunting songs of torrents pale

With years that flash their horrid glow

And frigid thoughts of craven woe.

Naught drives this husk to seek the sun.

In frozen flow dull tempers run.

No thaw ascends through hoary bone.

No motions praise the blue unknown.

No prayers from arid throat escape

To give some wish its crooked shape.

No fluid tune revives the veins.

No effort’s spent to bear the strains

Of melodies that crossed the air.

No blossoms of that latent flare

Appear to spark the darkened brow

That vanquished dreams would disavow.

All’s covered with a wintry sheen

That shimmers with what might have been.

No flutterings beneath that frost

Remain to mourn ambitions lost.

This armour keeps its charge inside.

That dormant thirst can only hide.

No chords of courage ever ring.

No hungers hold their welcome sting.

The  rain-slaked rocks provide the stage,

But they can’t dare to match the cage

That ages unavenged have built

From lead and iron forged from guilt.

Keep not this idle watch alive.

Just let that final sight arrive!

Cataclysm Kiss

Break the world upon my lips!

It shakes into a new eclipse.

Lust makes its universal thirst.

Its justice takes its fever first.

 

It drinks the light of sanguine star.

Inferno glows from fervid scar.

The savage wave of blind release

Betrays the hope of hollow peace.

 

Its thunders crack with quick disease.

It rips the night with certain ease.

It flits across the vacant miles

With wrath of unmistaken wiles.

 

It shatters through the ashen bone

Of old accord with primal moan.

It strikes in heat. It reigns in strife.

It brings the flame of golden life.

Copyright © 2011, Jaymes Buckman and David Aaron Cohen. All rights reserved. In a good way.