» Frederick Mayer - Dark Poems

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|| Exquisite Corpse ||

Dark hours
dark flowers
strange fires
strange desires

Virgin egg open
within preying bird's claw
smoke arising
ebony cloud lays upon
desert's cool scrotum

Black sky music
Oracular to be...
On vasular Gobi
cold vault vatic
Black velvet black
naked gold
in nymh light...

Aggresive harridan
blithe
grotesque
corrupting flesh
mysterious impassivity
drawn to fatal androgyny
dragonfly supple dance
voluminous snake-lile
stinging insect touch
writhing, spiky reptilian
bosoms embrace,
ectoplasmic form smooth
glistening drops of fluid
oozing from polished wound
on eyes seeing "belle epoque."

Leans over
form her lips
her hair
almost blood red
streams down over my head
sinister, erotic intimacies
virgin whore flamming dress
swirls around my feet
blood pouring from thigh
ominously medieval instrument
of torture of misogyny enfolds
disembodied head in her hair
ecstatic, triumphant
dark scarlet clad spirituality.

Upon venereal flower
perverse requiste
Sirens blowing replusive,
hard cold, predatory,
still, there is warmth,
love within sand bed here...

Desert dawning
angle fire
blood purple runs into dark red
deep blue
sleep exquiste.

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|| Dark Room ||

Darkness, darkness my room,
darkens me, becomes my Gethsemane garden;
here no one within
except mad shadows
pearly gray,
a strange fire in
candle dream weaver's
mystic rays,
of Harlequin,
its unwoven tapestry
reveals tortured conclusions,
whose heart beats in manic density,
"Dream of the Red Chamber"
bedside reader...no tranquility,
a photograph of her,
Snapdragon begin
with flickering ones
to speak, say:
"Only through Love one feels
pain of time, and makes Time
completely still, end."


"The two shall be one,
and the outside
as the inside,
and the male with the female
neither male nor female."
-CLEMENT OF ROME,
SECOND EPISTLE TO THE CORINTHIANS


Fog rolling in outside
greyness about floating inside,
insect head with the cat and the snake,
Jungle sirens
with a special ring
music from the plains of Africa
with figurines doing a sexual minuet,
My heart soars, reaches, fires melting
the cold,
photograph within snowy wetness
sunshine redish flair of my Love,
See patch of light
surrender
drinking life's fullest cup in the darkness
halo of electricity,
The picture becomes the room's frame...

There's a crimson wave washing over,
a developing meditation and there she is
form coming to life
dream outside the real
skin that feels so
all around the air
and "song of joy" becomes the feel
with love the dark room
gives to the positive of our union,
the last caress not our crest,
stepping inside into
or coming out onto me.

My room
dark with white candle light
I lay upon bed alone
jackalope skull's prism eyes
stare flickering jewels
throughout and on the walls
hangman's noose reflected there.
And, the photograph is...

My boon
apart from any dream delight
landscape of desert and stone
becomes to materialize
the deep rich green pools
alive and living calls,
the song, the carol fair.
And, to clutch what is...

Reality is what not to say
to see
the light reflects the seamless crystal
into which the dancer falls
and be
whatever becomes in the dark
makes room for the life freed.

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|| A Tale Of The Saint Joseph Hills ||

Jester, who loved a Princess,
gave his life
so his Heart
could be free and soar.
Dreams flow the way of ichor,
his soul took pity
so it would not take...
for that court Fool did know
the gentle "Catherine."
A liason
born on St. Joseph Hills and Love,
results which,
forevermore, never depart.
So, upon faded carnation winds,
whispered Soul,
"You and night are one
and
Night begs for no one!"

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|| African Hastini* ||

Slowly, sun sets, burning horizon,
skylight fingers bend toward earth,
jungle heat with slinky fluidity
finds my heart's dead coals.

Inside the place that houses me,
I smoke the orgasmic black,
within pipe made of skull,
An ebony glance through my open door...

There, a lascivious artifact
in such revealing presence,
as a newly open lilac,
it's beauty casting a voluptous spell
like heat from fire.

Here, in this land, I sought the shadows,
searching for the final portal,
instead, upon me comes Hastini.
Woman, who emanates from elemental realms,
tells me:
Satisfy your deep desire.
Purify, kindle the inner heat,
light cleansing sexual fire.
When the oblation is poured, all
uncertainty is washed away.

She is called the "Elephant Woman."
Beauty in the gross,
her gait is heavy, yet she moves
with supple sway.

I'm in the dark of night,
still,
in a verdant realm,
her whispers plea,
"Love Mother Nature
through her abundant womb..."

My vein has been cut,
as I sit within my room.

* The origin of this goddess is in the Sanskrit
version of Hindu love treatises.
I wrote this while in the African jungle.

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|| Tat Twam Asi* ||

Those who pass through night
must go on through alone.
A darkness of past eves
lust after travelers
who never heard dawn's scream.
A madness of the soul
is "Tat Twam Asi" Right.
There is no pain, no shame,
for spider male's last leave,
as is for female
once owner Black of name.
Shaded from soul's dream,
Veil's valley, windows' eyes.
Shadows need, Silents feed,
the sadness daylight.
The dark love never dies.
Those who pass through night
must go on through alone.
A madness of the soul
is "That Thou Art" Right.


*In Sanskrit, this roughly means
"That Thou Art," the god that
is inside you/you are a god.

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|| Virgin Queen Death ||

Sight of Virgin Queen Death
spread across arcane bed.

Drawn into an endless slumber -
sleep which delve senses royal to desire,
for that nyctalop after living sleep
forego awakeness before death leap.

Emotion surpassed by a mind parasite
that gives the touch exalt
- grey matter excreta -
making dreams fade
and allowing for the supreme delight
unspeakable or undescribable.
There is no morning, noon, or eve,
as this is deeper made
after sleep, before, "death."
This is the deflowering of
necro-demimondaie Queen.

Why awake then only to die? What need "dead"?
There is the sight to be had:
Sight of Virgin Queen Death
spread across an arcane bed.

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