Beginning on Cinco de Mayo 2012 and published sporadically, I will begin once more the innocuous waste of bandwidth known as The Blargh!

http://blarghen.tumblr.com

From left to right:
   Zibaa acrylic on 9×12” canvas board [DeviantArt]
   Pieces acrylic on 9×12” canvas board and five 3.5×2.5” linen canvas cards [DeviantArt]
   Persian Eyes acrylic on 3.5×2.5” linen canvas ATC [DeviantArt]

   A new Rutland-based band Cyanopia is looking for a female lead singer. Blend of genres may include Goth Rock, Shoegaze, Black Metal, Post-Black Metal, Death Rock, and Gothic Metal. Lead vocals should be clean, however — no growling abilities required. Influences should include Joy Division, Chelsea Wolfe, Amber Asylum, Anne Marie Hurst, Robyn Bright, and The Gathering.

   This is a part-time but serious band. We are looking for someone fun to work with, has an artistic mindset, is passionate, dedicated, flexible, and is not pretentious. Inquiries should begin with an email about yourself. The next step will be vocal samples and a public meet-up over coffee.

Interested? Drop me a line at: gigs-tcfma-2785688044@craigslist.org

cyanopiamusic.pensivewaters.com

quickening

time comes short.
pieces descend to one;
culminations thought chaotic
merge as calculated
and all comes to a head.
the night, she affords me no bonds;
i offer no quarter.
she hides many more than i,
but not all are allowed her desire.
to lie with that which
has no shape nor form…
the seed is felt by all
and ripples in the abyss
to still its toil.
a scent is cast as bait.
children birthed by shadow
will come to see,
but i will take them.
i will rip asunder
and make theirs mine.
all to one is
quickened.

awakening

night’s grace descends upon my disposition
putting to slumber the day’s mundane;
awakening that which breathes and feels
to move forward and release what it has dreamt.
formless paragon —
breathe the word
and manifest.
the dreams embraced by shadows flow,
giving relief to rolling waters held in;
unleashing all that is felt unseen
to come upon the breast of dusk.
feel the desire
and give it form
– create.
wait.
listen for the songs
of fallen seraphim
and follow their voices.
move.
let her caress your heart.
let it fuel your motion.

Of Frost And Ardor

The taste of frost hangs in the air.
It wakes every nerve below my skin.
I draw breath on it and wait.
Such specks of ice in the black sky
Scattered above… I get a taste
Of desire, crystallized and pure.
I remember the taste of longing,
The smell of fear and wonder,
And passion wells up within me.
There have been many prey to my
Focus and aim, and there are;
One sea of euphoria hangs in
My twisting mind this night.
I can see what I crave
In my mind so clearly.
Those shards of ice in the sky
Come together before me, blue and pure,
Frozen seas of wonder.
I’ll wait for the right time.
This mortal coil of mine is not yet
Short and the hunt has many moons.
The hour will come blue one day.

Venus removes her girdle
By the set of the Sun.
She then comes undone,
Musing amidst my intent.
In this threshold of night and day
I crawl to you behind reality and
Pull your hair firmly back.
I will taste you by night’s fall.
Luna, she rises in the east
To witness this feast.
Though predator to prey,
The hunt is just a means
To a divine transformation.

You will writhe.

Just the shift from day to night,
A sliver of eternity belongs to me.
You shiver before me as you wake.
This, fair göttin, is your blue hour.

Let go; let thy deepest will be done.

What do you desire in the deepest,
Blackest depths of your thriving,
Passionate heart? What calls to you?
At the very summit of your rapture,
What lusts enthrall your mind and
Grip your very consciousness?
In furthest reaches beyond your
Waking self-control, what forces move
Your immeasurable heights of ecstasy?

In younger days, I crept beneath a shroud.
I watched and waited and reached out only
To pull back. Time wore away my youth.
The attrition of heartache chiseled me to bone.
I have died and been reborn far too many times.
I have not fallen so far I cannot climb back,
But I have forgotten who I was.
In your essence, I left my impression.
In your soul, by the rhythm of your heart,
I embedded a piece of myself.
Open yourself unto me and make me remember.
Wake me up from my fever dream and
Free me from this vertigo.

Hands at my side, I nod my head
To your majesty.
You are within my insomnia,
My beautiful, fruitful insomnia.
The song in my head
Is an aria of infinite dream.
Oceans sway to your whim and word
While entire worlds bay and bow
Before your manifestation.

While I am bound and sealed,
Living in a realm of my own manifestation.
I reach out to remember.
I can take this slice of another world.
I can let a piece of myself live in a blue realm
Of purity and creation.

Once Promethean, now bound,
I punish my liver in longing.
I held in my heart the fire of the gods;
But it burns no more, merely
Smoldering in ash.
All infernos need merely a spark;
I, of the slain, need only to rise.

I know now self-sacrificial honor
And I grow stronger through it.
Still, I crave sustenance.
I know now the pangs of hunger
And I grow swifter through them.
Still, I desire indulgence.
I know the call of the night
And I come to such power in it.
Oh, such sweet grace in the absence of light.

In the depths of longing, I wish in the dark.
Behind reality, a severed soul is whole.
I call out and invoke the one before me.

Soul touches soul;
And in the altars of the spirit,
By the light of the three moons,
To the chants of a thousand thrall,
My black flame is relit by your blue fire.

Transformation

Canto I.

A breeze with the smell of rain passes my breath.
My mind relaxes, giving way to instinct.
I close my eyes to feel the unseen breadth.

There is a calling in my cells quite distinct.
It reaches out from the void to brush my heart.
I welcome all of its expanse within me succinct.

This is where my passion will start.
Here is where I am my true self.
This is how my restraint may come apart.

I am of the living, unseen sea behind the shelf
Of all commonly perceived reform.
I am manifest to flesh and wandering amongst myself.

Passion moves this vital storm.
Infinite and powerful passion gives my will form.

Canto II.

Alone, my thoughts writhe in darkness.
They slither and twist amidst immutable shadow.
They split, twist, intertwine and coalesce.

I journey on this path to know.
It is easier to feel than to see.
I take careful steps and observe below.

I can hear the trickle of passing absurdity;
Something beneath me faintly seems to laugh.
But I have set my eyes before me.

Ahead of me lies my path;
So thus I walk forward from wrath.

Canto III.

I am crossing Da’at over the abyss;
You must be Coronzon.
You stand before me, daemon, enraptured in twisted bliss.

So strong is your dark passion.
I am moved by the purity within your source.
I am honored that you are what I stumbled upon.

You are an impassioned force.
Am I to face you to push onward?
Such confrontation is only a matter of course.

The way past you is barred.
There is no use for me to agitate.
Should I now drop the whole of my guard?

With a simple caress, you show me the gate.
There I will find my self prostrate.

Canto IV.

Before I can face the daemon, I must face my self.
I stare then down into the abyss.
My reflection is there, ever so dark and without shelf.

I face my reflection; the other side of me is amiss.
I’ve become unbalanced with an internal insurrection.
This figure now risen is my own darkness.

I stand against myself and kill my reflection.
I eat my still beating heart and become one.
But then you say it is not enough, with lustful inflection.

I must know my self undone.
I must venture into the very abyss.
I must become its pulsing archon.

You seethe with such a forceful hiss.
And with that, I dive into the abyss.

Canto V.

There are eyes in the shadows.
They see all; they see you join my fray.
They know of the sacred death throes.

Eyes in the shadows, I say;
They watch you too!
The eyes know all and they know the way.

You, in this ebb and flux, come too.
You guide me on the currents.
You illuminate the way we must go through.

This sea must be explored with no pretense.
My dear shadow, feel relief.
There is nothing in existence more intense.

We now see what the eyes see,
There is no difference between the world and this sea.

Canto VI.

And so, daemon who leads me before
The abyss, are you Cacodaemon or Agathodaemon?
I think you are both, neither and much more.

We ride this vast sea upon
The living universe.
We ride this current together, Coronzon.

There is, within this, both blessing and curse.
It is pain and pleasure; dead and alive.
It is clean and profane; pure and perverse.

In this, I finally feel so very alive.
I close in towards the sum.
From this, I now open my being and revive.

All hindrances now come undone.
I am now myself and I am one!

Canto VII.

Stretched across an abyss,
My many forms dissent and split.
The screams are a melodic dissonance,
Both perfect and skewed.
Manifestation becomes the abstraction without;
Infestations of malice seethe within.
I need not a guide here, but a grounding.
Invoke me, by the living universe!

I am destroying my self to be renewed.

Canto VIII.

So many points of light and shade
Pull at my realms ferociously;
I am blinded and unmade.

I must save my self from entropy.
I wrap myself in impenetrable shadow;
I do all I can to avoid atrophy.

My mind squirms ever so low.
In this state of emotional isolation,
I murmur in feverish, obscene canto.

My chants slither into sweet desolation.
My subtle shape shifts and,
Forming a crescendo of vile incantation,

I am become the beast of the wasteland.
I am become the wrath which will forever expand.

Canto IX.

Centered…
A paragon of shadow remains,
Spherical and glowing with black light.

Distilled…
The pieces they ripped from me are shed;
I sacrificed my self to my self.

Dormant…
I am silent and still.
I gestate and recreate.

Canto X.

All things weak and frail are excluded.
The mundane and petty are cast off.
What is crucial to the core merges.

Strength mighty, true and immutable,
Honor pure and just beyond all doubt;
They are become one with my being.

The ebb within its eternal pull,
The flux within its eternal push;
They are become one with my being.

The sacred currents that flow within,
The divine ways unseen by the blind;
They are become one with my being.

The unquestionable firmament,
In all of its perfected glory,
It is become as one with my self.

Within this spinning abyss, I pulse.

Canto XI.

There is a spark in the heart of the sphere.
The spark grows into a flicker.
There is no feeling here, no anger.

A flame of pure black gleans shear.
There is no emotion yet, no warm heart.
There has not yet been made fear.

But so grows the gift the flame will impart.
It consumes the sphere in black fire;
The sphere begins to come apart.

This melting womb lies in an amorphous pyre.
No longer is the womb needed to adorn.
All that contained the flame is afire.

A shadow swells out and takes solid form.
I open my eyes and take breath reborn.

Canto XII.

I am reborn.
I will myself into existence.
I manifest my kingdom before me.
I am beyond scorn.
I will my ways into abundance.
I manifest my world upon the sea.
All that I was is torn.
All that I willed became the expanse.
All that I created was destroyed.

I awaken; I arise.

Canto XIII.

I rise up from the abyss,
One and reborn.
I am made of its waters,
Fueled by its fires,
Grounded by its rock,
And I breathe of its air.
It is the life of the universe.
Its pulse is my pulse;
Its breath is my breath.
I rise with its flux;
I fall with its ebb.
In every moment,
I sway in its current.
I am but a point of focus
In its encompassing plane.
Emergence is smooth.
I am a daimon and demigod.
I will manifest my world.
I bestow my self upon existence.

Through awareness and wisdom,
With strength and honor,
I am.

Canto XIV.

Terra forming a desolate mind,
Abominations come forth
To test and judge my worth.

I stand against the fire’s girth
And weather the wind’s might.
Through attrition I gain sight.

Temptation falls before my black light.
I am steadfast with my kind;
I am resolute upon this flight.

Weaknesses are felled in my wake.

I have become.
I am awakened.

Canto XV.

I am rising up toward the surface
From the depths to awakened
Awareness. My spirit is without malaise.

My eyes have opened.
I see a brilliant light cradling a visage
Of darkness to which I am likened.

The air smells of cedar and sage.
Here the living universe gives birth.
I have not felt such power in an age.

A rumble passes through the earth.
The winds prepare to dive.
A storm on the horizon gains girth.

This place in my mind comes alive.
As I draw breath, the currents thrive.

Canto XVI.

I am returning now;
The bull of the earth grounds me.

I emerge from my sub-conscious;
The common reality forms before me.

I have merged with my self;
All that has occurred merely strengthened me.

I am reconfigured and refreshed.

Canto XVII.

Within darkness, there may be honor.
The dark requires strength.
Within shadow, the weak are brought low.
The dark enslaves their bodies and dements their minds.
Within the abyss, only the worthy may pass.
The waters drown the useless to servitude.
The worthy will float.

Canto XVIII.

I come through to the crown one and whole.
The abzu flows within me.
I am.

Frau Vetr

   A crystalline purity encases the rough-hewn edges of earth; this is her palace. Ice reigns, permeating air and imprisoning ground; know her breath. She is a sharp and quick queen, that lady of ice, cold and true. If she shall choose to lay her blue hands upon you, lament for warmth lost. If she shall choose to lay her cold, crisp kiss upon you, lament for life lost. And if she shall embrace you, hold you tight for eternity, you are blessed, for truly you have become immortal. Yes, this lady of ice is a sister to death; she gives gifts to her solemn brother. And lo’ she may be a danger true, we give her praise and celebrate her existence, this artist she is. None other shall create such crystalline sculptures as she; no one could claim this beauty. In praise and celebration, from our love for the second eldest sister of the seasons… a tale should be told. A tale of this lady, a tale of her beauty, a tale of her immortality… praise and love to this Queen Isa.

   The Queen of Ice, Frau Vetr, Lady of Winter, Isa… she is an artist true, and sister to the infamous Bani Nergal, lord of death. She cradles the earth when Demeter has finished crying, created the palaces of Hel Irkalla, and gave immortality to many whom have stumbled into her embrace. This is a tale of the first one to do so.

   Kaldr was a hunter. Each day, he walked the forests in search of prey to eat. He would find the deer, bear, or birds of many sorts, stalk them, and unleash his chosen weapon through their flesh. He loved the fires of his hearth, for they cooked his food well. As the year grew older and the days became colder, Kaldr had to journey deeper into the trees to find his meals. The plants became few and the animals grouped deeper and deeper.

   One day, Kaldr had journeyed further into the woods than he had ever before. The plentiful snow on the ground gave him tracks to his way out, so he feared not. The Sun began to lower and warn him with its fires. Kaldr decided that tonight, he would have to eat what he had left of grains in his home, and wait another day for the salty venison he loved. Just as he would turn around to depart this sacred place and travel home once more, a great wind blew all around him. Kaldr ducked and covered his face from the biting ice of the winds, which seemed to be so curious of him. When this wind ceased, Kaldr took a step… He did not see his footprints preserved in the snow.

   "I must be facing the wrong direction," he thought. And so, Kaldr turned  and took another step. No tracks of his own; nothing at all but pure white snow! Kaldr turns again, and yet again, until he was spinning with panic! The biting, icy winds had covered his way out! Now dizzy from the spinning, and fearing he would become some wolf’s dinner, Kaldr, disoriented, ran in all directions trying to find the edge of the forest. Alas, he could not. There was no end in sight. At last, he dropped to his knees and begged whatever spirits could hear him to take him and save him.

   Just then, as the Sun laid itself to rest behind a mountain, the winds picked up once more. Kaldr thought he could hear a voice in the winds singing a song of affection. Even as his tears froze to his ever-bluing face, he felt love and comfort.

   The Lady of Winter was curious of Kaldr. She found him handsome and felt passion for this lonely hunter man. After some thought, Frau Vetr decided this hunter Kaldr would be ideal to keep for all time. Her brother Bani Nergal scolded her in this.

   "You cannot love this man, for man is mortal and finite. He will die and become mine, and his flesh will grow black, shriveled and rotten, to your eternal sorrow," spoke Bani Nergal to his sister, with concern in his dark eye. She sighed, pondered this for a moment, and looked at him, still determined.

   "I am the lady immortal, I preserve things for all time. In my ice, he would not age; if one does not age, one cannot die. This is truth." As she said this, she raised her hands to call a wind to struggling Kaldr. Before Bani Nergal could protest, Kaldr was frozen. "He is mine now," she said. "Mine for eternity… my new husband." The lady took him into her arms and to her palace, where she lay with him a season and slept the warmer months. As she began to awake at the crying of Demeter, she stretched her arms and yawned the first winter winds.

   Kaldr’s spirit troubled her. He was uninteresting, and babbled on as people do. She had only seen him hunting, only seen him quiet. She could not have imagined the ways in which this man would talk. He did not cease, and he bothered her greatly. Frau Vetr called to her brother Bani Nergal for advice, for he was old and wise.

   "I cannot advise you in this, beautiful sister. You must decide. I have helped you all I can, but this man in your husband and thus, you are bound." So spoke Bani Nergal, lord of death. The Lady Isa thought a moment, and remembered she was bound to what her ice had touched, the frozen body of this man. She knew then what she must do.

   The Lady of Winter called, once more, her brother Bani Nergal to her palace. She spoke to him, "Bani Nergal, dear brother of mine, I give you this gift for your assistance. I give you the gift of this man’s spirit. This man is truly dead, but his body is what I am bound to and it is kept eternal in my ice. Shall I grow tired, I will find another. I have solved my problem, and given you this. For your love and help, my dearest brother, I will give you the spirits of men whom fall into my embrace." Bani Nergal took Kaldr’s spirit and thanked his sister.

   So for all time, those who fall into the frozen embrace of the Lady Isa, will be separated from their bodies… spirits to Bani Nergal; bodies frozen untouched to Frau Vetr. Have care, for if you lose your way in the forests of winter, you may find yourself beloved of Frau Vetr; your body forever locked in ice!

“The four most over-rated things in life are champagne, lobster, anal sex and picnics.”