I remember awakening at night from a sleep perplexed by what met me as I lied earthless to earthless, and again now as I shook the shroud of diamond dust all over my thoughts, and body parts, some. From Oblivion and into sight; those of that which was once forgotten all suddenly regained — what all already I knew.

I knew each compulsion which moves the weapons of my viced addiction to the eating of pure and impure emotions and the fruits of every sensation that only bloom in the evening.

I knew of what inspired my mourning discipline as to romanticize all the moments and sadistic blisses of my Life as a whole Tragedy; where unending didn’t exist and the hero dies in The first act.

And all the while I was in pursuit for a chaste similar in kind to my own, the rest of the world only sought for cataclysms; so all I could do in service to my hunger for love is offering comfort to distinguish tarts on their way down burning paths where I was forbidden to follow.

But, because of my diffused unlove and wisdom of the rule of pleasure, I acquired the art of building whole kingdoms in a single day, fascinated by their fascination, and how to manufacture their demolition by night. As they fell, fall and only the places to have ever known my touch; never to be lifted from the ruins — in my history. My memories.

There’s a time once when I spoke with every Star be held in high heaven and learned of their true names just as intimately as I knew the true identity of the Shapeshifter — yet none of this has ever been enough to deliver me from battles shore, or into dysheavenly thoughts, or mercy. Where I now, or then, spared from darker sentiments of immortality I may have led a gentler life lived longer, untouched by reckoning.

But then the Twilight of the Gods began.

After my Awakening; heavenly earthed, earthly heavened, dismantled, I was left alone to physician myself back to wellness as well as the Angels of virtue that were appointed to me at my birth who are now hospitalized from starvation and violences. All the while I could hear the pants, rants and ravings of men unsaved in the Demons’ tongue — and knew that their hearts, even mine, all belonged to the same symphony. And pain. Hungry.

So I fed them the forbidden delicacies toxic to an appetite — and yielded their restoration; my reward met in a measure of a kind. No, anyone that I love becomes just as curse as I myself have been cursed by theirs; but only I keep the riches of doom and desires hidden just behind my teeth.

G L U T T O N Y

"Ecce oportet ut vitas; non vivere ut edos."

Indulge in the company of those whom company spectres. In conquest for Erotic City where myth whispers of its azul nectar. Trumpets loud and their cacophony divine; behold and Lo, there casts no bone nor ethereal tone so gained in this place; this Internea, voracious lacuna, receives my joy and my peril, all. From within the Gran Verma, Great Worm Kerberos, bane of all Gluttons, catastrophe befalls - unto us who are cursed to feed on gastric mayhem from its intestines and everything which that it ate as our punishment. Whereso’er malevolent, or saintly, or bloodline confides, is lost to an everlasting storm of mercurial demon Ichor labored by Promethean moods made from digestive waves, mercilessly drowned in golden typhoons. Rage and excess are appropriated, free to inflict their roiling cystae in immensity - down to the core, light and air allowed no more. Behold, and beware the fate of the uncured, or forever engorge on the obscured.

Atlantis lost, is lost no more; for I now haunt its gallant ruins down under Hyperion’s shore. Among Olympian saturation and reverent conceit, in likeness to Babylon after its defeat.

My heart was stolen by the hands of a gorgon, my chest asphyxiated by the eyes of a lover – and all that remained was the body. And in wake of immersion, glamorous glutting, became an addition to a harpie’s wealth; gaining value the longer I sunk and hardened, lingered and lustered.

I became undone in such an effortless motion, and each havoc leading up to my downfall; which did all appear to be movements of a dance while music was as the waves strummed over the ocean. But my sighs and cries were as lullabies, carried out to the horizons by the sea.

So, alone in spirit and spite, memories in de formé are the only tinder for which my rage ignites. Damned be my love for thee, Siren, beloved; who’s known no greater adore than from me. And because I loved her with selflessness and awe, my sight and might had been deceived; unrealized until it was too late and already in the Leviathan’s sea-hued maw.

Here lies my specter-cindered bones that bare every thunderscar inflicted and, and burns within the fallen palace of the fallen prince, Hector. This place I saw, i’ve never seen before – centaurian structures displayed in senseless decor; lain low and enclosed in a tempestuous cage, forever seized by Poseidon’s rage.

And to believe I had become captivated by my captiver and captivity is harder to swallow than the oceans themselves, but all is not lost so long as there’s this agony. Then when you hear it, that warring horn, as it wails in violent rings across every shore and every basin, I am reminded that all of my dead ancestors drink from the sea.

Beware what follows when the horn has been sound, as it unleashes like some chimeric hound and the killing blow is found – no man, nor beast, nor hero, nor vast fleet may ever defy the apocyan sea or fear the wrath of all seven watery domains upon one single knee.

Drunken by woe and enamored in its decadence, this may be my only form of revenge. With the survival of this verse, preserves my immortality or serve as my guillotine and reveal nothing but this tragedy with my head displayed on gold before all the eyes of the earth.

-Antitheus

"Born of mephitic visions from whereso'er an incense-burning tree decrees; amongst the Levant, orients beneath the rising sun, far East and barbarians adorned in exotic, untamed skins. This Hadean appropriation demands its just due sinoffering for sinimmunity. Behold, the Earth-Tearer."

Annihilation is reborn like this —

When Worlds of hot and cold combust then combine,

Without any tempestuous frission or Metamorphoses divine.

Before me, earth uncoils and Heaven subsumes

In a place where stars align and as cold as bone

Return to their throne to be concealed from the Twilight, that ender, Ragnarok

And all it consumes. I've walked this world through Fire, Ice and Continental Divide –

And seen Angels whom faith and shame all cast aside; bestial and demon fussions

Interpreted as Celestial Hosts, or just self-consumed Devils afraid of becoming ghosts,

Who must feed on the Modern paradigm, but only starve and perish, forgotten by most.

The taste of madness overflown from the rim of an adamant chalice still lingers; which

From it ran endlessly like Dragon's blood which I had drunk in a Dragon's Palace.

Even in my most fondest dreams, ne'er visited or warned in any nightmare it seems;

Chaos, sinuous and decadent, prevails – unstoppable and inescapable,

From vices Hellbent or Heavensent.

So I forsake my Makers and wage war with Paradise's acres, on their Adamantium castles

Against gods, spirits and forbidden races alone and half drawn from life and little death –

But it is with this final blow I take my last breath, and see behind me what bears.

Behold the earth as it tears.

-Antitheus

"I am but a man; a man made whole through the sins of my Father. From ash, or demolition left in my wake, as my hands razed over every beam, arch and collumn befallen and saturated by rage and tempests — on my thousanth rampage, I saw the stats unfold as fire dyed my eyes crimson, redder than satin-faded, love shade lipstick; and discovered the visible light of the Phoenix only seen in the deepest trench of the Red Sea; whose dogma condemns it to drink of fire and submerge itself in the Inferno — just as I am condemned to sinless violence.

It was Heaven's command, in all its unchallenged conceit, that uplifted me from the same earth consecrated with the blood of warring Titans; so why ask for forgiveness when my very soul bears the signature of my designer, written in bloodink to ensure I would never forget. Such antipathy is my nature — as anything I ever touch, ruin, breathe upon or rend asunder survives for an eternity; stained and cursed as I have been. My circle of intoxication.

Witness! Awe! Behold the most dangerous game exemplified by the Man who hunts man, who feasts on metallic organs justly. Yet, though what once was opaque within me now overflown with red, all is not so oblique and punishment. Concealed beneath each golden scale inherited from my dragonic forefathers are the names of all I ever loved or ever loved me, and though it is not my peace to be forgiven, I believe Heaven will forgive me nonetheless, making this bloodhungry life not so as obscured as I solemnly quote alone beneath the pale face of the moon. Set me free."

-Antitheus

#antitheus #poetry #spirituality #humanity #wordporn #poemgasm #feedback #artismyreligion #artofpower #philosophy #mythology

“The great heart of the Eternal beats even and untroubled,

Flowing through the river of its peace.

There is no bearer of burdens like Caliban,

Nor runner of vain errands like Ariel.

Silent for once in the restless hive of labor;

Save the low funeral procession, or voice of craftsmen

Whispering to his neighbor - the good deeds of the dead.” -A. Mills

Havoc-kissed nativity steeped low and affixed; whose heart, though once ultrasonic, tumultuous beat, beats hollow; in absence; of love, loveless blackheart - everlastingly so. And if ever once had loved, if love there ever were or been, loved only itself and all of which either vexes or inflames. Attuned, though, Armageddon’s armored Hornets melt upon the thrones, or undeniable nature of one’s self, of every ailment and every bone; but also in vanity too branded and vandalized by metallic chroma. And so hedonized by them, whose amberous-scepters which stung the mind, coursed their infernal Venom obtained from some Great Worm, into the veins wholly which faults the Spirit wild and the Body desirous - bent from design. This, the prophecy of the untaming of ascendancy, resides in the lyrics of blind Muses, but the prevalence over Fates beneath the veil of an unforeseen and unforsaken Subterranean mobil shook even the unshakable; even the noblesse of Pseudoapollo, Sunless-God the Morning Star. Beware, henceforth is astonishingly, seductively oblique. Beware, for darkness made visible.

"My name is Osmodaï, Bestial Prince of a Thousand Tongues and Starfallen Peacock.

He whom from Tempestuous Delights, Reborn. Drink of this fermented elixer, salacious liquours, and draw forth from the same realm of archchemic elements as I, so that, in faith, you may yield to the enduring of my grandeur and volatility as I reveal, as I was revealed, and can never unknow. From antiquity I hailed, in the Earth’s most youngest years, the Sun’s moment of maturity and the indigenous races newborn to longevity. Worshipped, and chaotic mania was my chosen ambrosia, which I was not alone in indulgence. The only father I had known, I murdered; and since, feared no Man, nor god, nor death - now visible, nor invisible darkness. Alone in madness, no thing in me absent. I learned the Language of Adam, original Godtongue, from serpents who bore forbidden knowledge, I learned the true names of the Stars born and died wrought from Heaven and tasted of every flavour which the earth concealed. War was my vice - bloodied and blood drunken as when I was born; and it was me that began what would be known as Oriental decadence. Gaze upon all that I have done, and awe - in Life as I have in Death.

Lain in Subterranean soil; immense nightgale and catatonia crushed beneath the Old density of glacial anchors, obliqued - ashfall as this maelstrom consumes all sunless forms, and frosts everything whereso’er enchanted or eclipsed amid the nullcolorous convex that is my Fimbulvetr. Infinite weightlessness and infinite gravity distinguished by infinite fragments scattered anon, in omnipotence. Cast xenopolyon, in multiple places in an oddity of or strange opposites to, in the same space, from the cold world to cold Death with the last memory from my mortal life lingering over my domination while competing in the illustrious Olympian Pythion; bathed in veneration by the long and loud roar of the People. But full content had eluded me as a result of this Great Fall - surely as grand as the maturity of Jove from adolescence. Though kindred as we were, I would not succumb to blindness nor severity, nor tragedy nor humility, and Death was but neodecadent sybaritism unlike those from Life - so to seize it was my motive. From this downward cavity which I was employed, I arose from bondage and ancestral frost breaks from Atlantean shoulders like rebounding hail befallen from summits on high. And as I ascended, to perhaps aid in my unleashing, a rancorous howl breaks from cerulean lips like-thunder which regains me everything once thought lost. So I breathed of Valkyrian pride after determining to remain unfallen - intoxicated off of the Tartarean firewater from the Phlegethon’s burning shore; drunken from the severed-skull chalice of my Father which was to be the beginning of Götterdämmerung, unique only to me, but no other has, or will, survive their Ragnarök as I have.

Black tastes of black, and death tastes of love - though neither my golden tongue knows; for only obsidian and burning lithium lingers with the combustion following the collision from feeding on primal fruits like opium luxury, or the intrinsic paroxysm when I speak the Language of Adam, exiled. Revived through, and by, Hadean sorcery, the Protean archetype, breather of Adamantium - my rebirth foretold twice by a Serpent, whom at last revealed to me the secrets of my nativity; from a time when the Old Gods still walked, how I was arisen from foreign alluvian clay by Demogorgonic hands, and shaped in the chasms of maelstrom. How we were self same, of imperium bloodline, who take of and devour the beauty and horrors from stars or souls alike - the root of my obsession, or Nature, for that damnable flower. So ajar upon Eveningstar-studded wings I conquest. Ascended from black into vantablack; in pursuit of what once I was and am no nevermore, to reunite the Night and the Day and exist within the illumination of the Truth of my madness.

My name is Osmodaï, lover of Sudden Death, and never will I be forgotten."

-Antitheus

Blood-drinker of the night moon,

Wolf-lover with dark fur, and eyes

Fully drawn; conquered from the

Sun, turned diamond similar to

Stars who cast earthbound;

Violent and wounded, and as ancient as

He is sacred. He was born from the

Fifth Tree, wild and wildlife,

In love with those which loved him

In return and that loved him none -

Because he loved himself. Young darkpaw,

Lokisson, aged from young love into cruel furor,

And all youth lost, beholds a moon he had not seen

Since once looked upon in a time of joy,

But only reminds him of times starless, stained.

So he howls, his cry, his roar, and his voice -

For the first time since adolescence, his truth.

He knows, he speaks with knowledge to the

Moon and says to her he will return,

Return to his oldest love and be no more

Of what he once was and regain a new moon

That won’t ever forget his name again -

Ragnarøs

Infernal Verse of the Lotus Eater

"Clouded memory, more like sensation, veils times I once recall'd of in Amara; before even the worlds were divided and the Lord himself was but a child. Heaven's aborted seems to me all that I could be; not only taken from Her bosom, but robbed of all Her memory; as if itself hated us too. If I could revive within me tears scorched on the bed of brimstone, surely would they pour in agony and joy. Alas, all I can recall, in great and prolific detail, is whence I had fall'n. The clap of abode-wrought thunder and the roars of my brothers; though none heard the tears of us whom knew we had lost all that we were. But in that loss, in gain, what I am now no longer wishes of Heaven nor Elysium, I seek to do as God had and undo that which is irreverent."

I.

This is for those of us who are both imperious and reticent. Who sunbathe beneath their light from Heaven fallen, but whose soulstar seeks only sublimation found where light shines none. Rather than ascend and become intoxicated like ancient barbarians and victims of Oriental decadence, blood-drunken by night and all-vanquished by dawn. Slain in their senseless stupor, never to enjoy the spoils of war from King Ges'r, or take pleasure in the Xanadu of Kubla Khan. Forever denied the love of Shambhala, forever held in contempt by ancestors dishonored. Just as Pride ruined the sorry Mongolians, and dispossessed the Fallen Son of the Morning from Paradise - there are other grandiloquent and wondrous forms of havoc. Forms, not only sui generis to Man, but also unfamiliar to Milton Gods; even concealed from men and women, those unloved defectors, who exchanged their hearts with gem-studded bars, their flesh with Utopian gold all beautified and all perfected, and their souls with irresistible fragrances to bewitch the yet untouched. Such is the consequence for perversions done unto the already divine touched forms; predestined to inherit unimaginable passions that could reshape worlds and speak with stars. And I discovered lost truths the moment my lips tasted of the Lotus.

II.

Never before has an adolescent born as us all, from earth, land or seabourne matured beyond adulthood, and into something undeniably connected to Elysian deities, or the fulfillment of a long awaited antediluvian prophecy that anticipated the birth of a heaven-wielding earthborn who would do as Prometheus had done, except I am no criminal hated by my clan, nor have I robbed Heaven, though heroic as it may be, to liberate my kin. The circumstances of my birth, of all those years spent walking barefoot, seduced by two demon-lovers, across an ancient and superannuated convexity that I've come to know simplistically, romantically, as Hell. Imagine; all of these rapturous and unrepeatable elements which define me. Amorous, lionhearted, vainglorious, destructive, ethereal, and among them all, Adonic - to what manner of deification or apotheosis would yield from such miraculous alchemy? Circumstances of birth and life to prophesy either benevolence, malevolence or an ambiguous eminence none seen before. Would I have had the perfect conditions to nurture the hemispheres of Good and Evil at a sooner era, were I truly the Adonai of the angels and demons I keep within me, possibly, I would not have had to suffer the slow death which sings to me, even amid what should be jovial, and turns sonnets into eulogies. So, I sate both God and the Devil within me.

III.

And there I was, magnetized to what seemed to me where the Christ had last stood, bewildered and terrified of my fate just a heartbeat's pace away. Golgatha, murder-execution crime scene and site to a pivotal event at the foundation of God's Covenant with Mankind, albeit "kind" is remotely vague compared to truer translation, Mancruel. Regardless, I've tasted of Lethean paradise twice in sight of primitive savages and the legged-Sirens who smelled of dense Chrysanthemum embalmed in otherworldly gradients that abducted any hunger or ambition of any tantalized. Tis my last phantasm of a moment claimed from time, then actualized in the shadow and echo of my Father; breathlessly mystified, immersed so deeply within the warm waters which flowed from spirit to flesh, from flesh to spirit. Euphoria seized the flow which continuously connected me to the abstractions of reality and this world found inside the nectar of the Lotus. Water became as milk and honey, Venus, from her floral sybaritic, overindulged and fervid, descends from aloft her pleasure dome built upon air, dips her tongue into, and becomes the mode in which I travel to next star, but how could I revive words to convey what I saw with my mind's eye?

IV.

Neither arrested nor detained by earthly and unearthly restrictions, once dissonant sensations and evidences become obscured, indistinguishable, in fact synonymous to and with themselves. To have lost hindering attachments, and from that loss, sinless ephemera gained. I'd unveil the light and the night for if but a moment to gaze upon the truth. What I saw was myself, then every microcosmic and macrocosmic elemental component unified in likeness to stars of a constellation; absolute synthesis between what once was divided and bent remade anew, or properly affixed. Though, amidst the many opulent and awakening delights exhumed from hidden graves, none so as precious or liberating as the subsequent discovery of sentience regained, and this extraordinary rebirth soon reaches its conclusion where, I suspect, is the beginning and end to a Samsaric rehabilitation - and I am proven just as I can again divide the physical from addictive insight. But my journey is far from closed, because when I had expected to rise from this vision, I instead discover myself at the mercy of nativity. Could it be fortune or fate that I am presented before the border to the Gardens. To Eden.

V.

Even in the waking world, never before has a sight appeared as resplendent or as evenly blessed in nature as Heaven herself as for what enclosed me on all sides. This place, if at all Eden, a place simultaneously bright and nightfall, unlike twilight or the heavens ajar untamed and eclipsed, but an alchemy of the space made of fire and ice - where timeless motion is the physical law enforced by an exoticized Nature. If I could have spoken, sound would fall upon no listener, but I did, unless my senses were in peril, hear the sound of my voice, or the ventriloquism of my conscious, unbent from the design of my world. Hedonistically enclosed by carnal megafauna whose flowers as poised and vexatious as Roman Goddess statues, dripping nectar from swollen lips, tempted to kiss and abuse; this was not Eden. Where lethargy and excess are excess are unrivaled, but lusts together, this was the isle Djerba, on Tunisian waters, illustrious dwelling of slumbering gods, those said to have vanished from antiquity for the spoils of hypnotic intemperance stolen from the shores of Babylon. The envy of Dionysus and his opium-clad crown, was mine. In this phantasm, I have discovered truths hidden to all kind, exposed to worlds unnamed which transformed me into a wearied traveler transcended from inanity.

VI.

Sudden abortion confiscates my thoughts in a rapturous event too rapid for me to acknowledge the transition, until I am revived - an esoteric rebirth, and the air tasted like fire as would the young dragons from their nests atop primeval slabs. I felt pain, unique in a way that reminded me of something I've never once knew, but know. Deep in the bone, close to the marrow is where it dwelt, my Tormentor, or Savior. When I had received the breath of Life and tasted the metallic radiation inhabiting the air, alive I must be. A Revenant whose only nemesis would be Frankenstein and his sinister methodology which coincidentally beset us both upon the road that led us to tragedy and infamy, together once before in Purgatory. The knowledge found then lost grieved me sincerely, in a place unknown to me which may have been vital memories forgotten or taken, so this is what becomes of me hence and henceforth. From once I was, and am now, there lied no similarity or fellowship, no soft sanctum equipped enough to ever soothe me, unless my only reward must be built from the dark metals and ancient earth left behind by the anachronistic Serpent-Eaters which they used to forge the magnificence of vices lethal to the soul, but prolong the survival of wicked ways even up to the threshold of the Afterlife. Doomed, but I refused to go into that gentle good night. I chose to rage, raze and rule in the shadow of divine perfection.

VII.

Fearless of the world, every waking breath is dedicated to the fall of venal empires, but my bones have become like glass. Good and Evil, braided be, whether is of witchcraft or art, both are lusted, but my heart has become like porcelain. Modest no more, and if I were Narcissus, least Adonis, devastation would not be self-ascribed, rather, would dine with along with the Reavers that howl out my name in the night wind, in need of hunger or desires fed, but my skin has become like vellum. Though I conceal such unlawful things from the god's eyes, dishonorably to my demise, I am immortalized and conscious of the specters haunting their investment and provide with the illegal nutrients required to, not only satisfy this vanity, but to serve and service, because it can betray me or be my only salvation. So I live as I must until the Angels I seduced at last come or me, from the abuse of one demon-lover, and lie me to ground in my delicate tomb; loved by the other demon-lover.

Antitheus

I've seen this sun rise and fall a thousand times before its death - death of its divinity in the eyes of a child. Fire-born from aching earth and two blind parents which light was lost when I first tasted of burning air and breathed, like all dragons breathed. Has Heracles, or Jason, ever known man-ending labors more auspicious, or Evil God-oriented like the Ovid or Odyssey as I have; even in my youth and youngest days? Fate strike me now lest my aim is true, that no Shakespearean Tragedy, Sonnet nor Comedy could compare to the density and intricacies accountable to my cataclysms. Yet, absent any grandeur or glory, and despised by the Angels sworn to defend Heaven from my like - I arose from the Hadean bedrock which was to be my birthplace and tomb. I besieged and conquered every demon-lover and immortal enemy in my ascent, I prevailed against Armageddon of the mind, body and soul until suffering became an object of valor instead of an endless state. I've seen this sun rise and fall a thousand times before its death.

But I've know now that death is never the end, and that the sun will rise and fall a thousand times more.

-Antitheus

Cretan monstrosity aged atop Greek earth; maternal love, and hated father, both lost. From this zenith, evil incarnate yon on high, beloved senses ancient and alive from celestial circles of the hot and cold cosmos all-wield to the cosmic guillotine at the mercy of none who still listened, and at the tyranny of whomever is there to witness their wages paid in full with blood, beaten by their own brothers and sisters as they are reaped. They looked to me and I could hear voices drowned out beneath other voices who drown the cries of their latter. And so I looked back upon them and answered,

"No."

The circumstances of my birth revealed that I live, and die, to heal - heal even broken stars or hallowed out souls, but never able to truly heal myself and seems all to be a Shakespearean art form; to transform this tragedy into the words which I now stir, versed in the retelling of Good and Evil as if I am the designer of the rage and vanity I've always known. It was then I realized that God didn't save me, Poetry did. So I lived: to suffer, to desire, to destroy, to understand and collect these wild elements so that I may transmute them from like base metal and into gold. Such a feat is not without cruelty, however. There exists an unnatural content of numbness, or inhuman vagueness, separate from the skin, like pieces of oneself turning synthetic and desensitized instincts, or vital chambers of the heart which is essential to the human nature. But from this oblivion arises clarity - as states such as panic, wrath or chaos relate closer to the alcoholic burn of Absinthe which has grown acclimated; as if one drinks with the gods every phasing moon. Yet I can still feel love at its most primeval form. Despair, joy, heartbreak and their like are no longer barbed fences, but become the stones in which I take to build a tower high enough to reenter into Heaven and return all that which I have ever consumed. In this manner, I've named every star in Babylon's dark sphere, I've fiercely broken my own heart to reassemble the shards, and I've even kissed Annihilation on the lips because I knew, as I know now, that I would live and attain immortality long enough to fulfill such a tower, my life's work, unless my heart stops in the arms of an old lover, which is also great.

-Antitheus