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The town by night in the picture above is not that I love, just I’ve been there, spent rather a long while, and it is another northern town where I was very well. Welcome everyone who knows the name of the town…

“Love never dies.” (Count Dracula)
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*In Tones of Black and Pearl*
Bleak despair. Lights go out. Darkness falls bringing us. We are vampires, children and lords of the dark. We wander over the moonlit world, in the toils of our thirst. Fear-encircled, we spread fear. Thirsty for blood, we want to drink your life, and to sow the dark with the power of our thoughts. For ever young, for ever beautiful, alien, quick and strong--not omnipresent yet omniscient--no reflections, no shadows. Lightly moving, the night vigil of oblivion, we send nightmares, and Luna, Greek Selene admires us. Oblivion is at the threshold of the hagridden mortals. The gentle bite--the sweet taste of blood. We’re thirsty. There is no use of crying. Acquiesce. Noctules, nosferatus--pallid faces, shining eyes--may be dead, may be alive, yearning for a sweet prey--languorous, sometimes sad--we wander in the moonlight. Vampires, children and lords of the dark. Lonely amid you.

*remark* Prose remains my forte; poetry is something I occasionally try to do, but have no real experience. Any critique will be very much appreciated. A poet of the North, I remain a poet of the religion of Antinous--if I am a poet, if the religion needs me--in my view, every pagan religion has to have its own poets, writers, artists, scholars, its own Alistair Crowley (whose teaching is not familiar to me). The religion of Antinous has its scholars and artists; many poems are dedicated to him, and one of the poems is mine. But I digress… “Picture me, my dear, alone and studious…”

*A Virtual Life*
Ashes and flowers; some poetry;
the frigid truth of autumn bonfires;
the sad magic; the magic sin;
the artificial paradise; the graphic laughter.
Daemons rule here. Their lips are aglow.
They kiss tulips in red wine.
(2006)

*lyric*
With you--I’m most faithful;
with you--I’m the best in the world;
with you--I’m kindest and omnipotent.
The sophisticated reiterate: happiness will be over some day.
But I don’t believe them. Confound the worldly wisdom!
Happiness won’t be over--
by lucky chance, by sheer luck, it’s often like this.

a la pointe blanche
“My needs are naďve and poetic: mental wholeness, completeness, consistency of events, and the charm of the habitual, where dreams dwell so serenely and comfortably, free of the moment's cavils”. (Anthony Blanche)
“Time beats up cream for him who is ready to have dessert”. (Anthony Blanche)
“I obey myself, knowing my own mind. But one cannot speak of it”. (Anthony Blanche)
Mr Blanche’s favorite quotation: “Follow your inclinations with due regard to the policeman round the corner.” (W. Somerset Maugham)

Sentimental Stroll by Paul Verlaine
The setting sun shot
its last rays, and the winds nursed
pallid nenuphars,
giant nenuphars in reeds
sadly gleaming on dead calms.

I was strolling, all
alone, perambulating
my woes round the lake,
among sallows where a vague
mist evoked a vast, creamy

phantom in despair
and weeping with the plaintive
voices of the teal
calling to one another
amid clatterings of wings

among the sallows
where I wandered all alone
perambulating
my woes: the dense winding-sheet
of dark swallowed up the last

rays of the setting
sun in its bloodless billows
and the nenuphars,
among the reeds, the giant
nenuphars on their dead calms.

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