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Sexing the lake serpent

 

It was the night you left for the lake..

Apology in your voice .Your deception obvious from your tone. I couldn’t answer nor question , just watch and wait…

You would make another yours and let my body crave for every rejection embedded in my cellular destruction.

I took something that night. . Something strong. Hate and revenge in a little white pill..

And there you were . Lying before me in your soft ways. Your long chestnut hair away from your face. Graceful and angelic. 

Naked before me…I could not move. Just as I moved my hands to touch your hardened body ..

She entered the room. ..younger. Lighter haired..lithe..ready.

I tried to scream but a muffled cry came through the throat of wired sutures.

Horror before me as she stroked my archangels wings…

’he’s mine ‘ I screamed in my head. I looked for something sharp to release my words but all I saw were the pencils left on the marble floor, from your sketching her..

. I looked at you but I was invisible and right then and there all I wanted was to stick those pencils through your eyes.

LOOK AT ME I yelled in my head. Nothing….you hammered her for dear life and I was begging for your touch. Thrusting hips as she moaned in lust . Her blonde locks tickling her breasts and mine were caving in with anguish.

You turned and smiled at me….mocking me.

I relieved myself from the horror, my bladder loosening and the room filled the lake. The sea garden wrapping my legs and I slowly fell to the lake bed.

Tears flooding my soul , your sex a window to my horror where I could not escape.

My eyes a bloody rage …my anger shattering the room like glass in a miriad of shards.

And there he was, just like you, magnificent ! His eyes black like the jets of precious stone. His wings slowly covering me in warmth . Black leathery wings…not white and holy like yours…

‘I’m here my child ‘ he whispered. He was like you in black and suddenly , he was better..and you left my senses.. Bloody and warm his kisses with devouring tongues and poisonous truth.

‘’ Easy child ..this is going to hurt’’ he softened as he wrapped the mutating wings around my breasts and struck into my chest with black talons. He entered me from behind and bled me in all possible ways. His bites and tongue slithering through my throat and chest and into my soul. 

More. I wanted more.

‘’Look , you fool.’’ He ordered. ‘’Look at your angel while he fucks her hard. Be mine and I will only love you’’

The tears drowned in my mouth with his juices as yours were filling her.

I let him completely ravage me and conquer me …I became his!

I woke up the next morning covered in blood , seaweed at my feet. . I was now his and you….fell from grace!

Constance

Art work@Cristóbal López.

#Cristóbal López.#erotic#dark#submission#paganpoetry#authorScreen Shot 2018-06-17 at 16.52.53

Spirit

Once, a very long time ago …when I was but a girl, I felt something, someone watching me. And I cannot remember if this spirit came into my life when I was a child or was always there from before…There were times when I spoke to the ethers as my parents said, because they could not see who I was communicating with. Invisible beings I would play with in my garden . My dog, ….he could see. He knew. And so did the plants that made way for this being in the soft air as it came through the garden parting leaves ….

I was seven…I woke and walked the soft ivory carpet we had in our beautiful home, softly tracing with my finger the velvety brocade paisley on the wallpaper.. In trance with what was calling to me. A song, a softness, a light…I somehow managed to reach the high lock on the door, and  wandered out to the Ocean. There she was splendidly round and bright…her breasts touching the ocean in a million silvery strands calling me to follow. He looked at me and took my hand . Black in mist and strong. I smiled at him and let him lead the way. The round lady in the sea with her beautiful face let her moonlight presence shine on me as I stood unafraid in the middle of the road in my long nightgown and my bare feet. I felt a dragging and barking from behind me, teeth ripped into my nightgown and tore me away from her as someone , something grabbed my waist and threw me to the grass pavement , just as a car sped by . My dog, was not on his leash. He was always put into his kennel , with his leash chained. I can’t remember who carried me in. My parents , never wanted to give me details about it. It was hushed.

When I was fourteen the spirit who had taken leave for a while as my teenage years and everyday life took over,  came to me in my dreams. In a different form. He came as the arch angel Michael. In blue linen garments , awash from the oceans wave at his feet, his back to me as his long flowing hair swayed a tinted gold by the sun’s love. His softness was to remove the harsh reality of the damage done to my body by a sickened old man. He took it with him to that beautiful but sky and left a thousand white doves take him to the sky.

The spirit in so many forms would always be there , sometimes silent, sometimes stroking my cheek whilst I slept. Sometimes light and sometimes dark. When my lover took upon other women , he would seep through the shutters like a black mist and spread his wings in a black cloud over my pain. His kisses beautifully dark and yet angelically sinful.

When I spoke of this spirit to my mother  many many years after my first vision, she told me about her vision as a child. Visiting  her father’s small cottage in rural Greece, she remembers a night where she and her siblings where walking in the woods returning from a celebration. Just a wee girl , she remembered very clearly how she stopped as she saw three women dressed in white leaving the village home into the woods , one of them holding a child wrapped in swaddling. One of the women , looked at her. She , spoke this to her siblings who did not see what she saw. She too was chosen. She believes it was her imagination. Interpretations? I have but one…

Constance

#spirits#ghosts#witchcraft#eerie#poetry#author

https://commaful.com/play/DarkCountess/spirit/

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The Conjuring

Eight stories 

of spiralling staircase 

Grey marble marking 

And a pale hearted fair face 

Ebony ribbons

 run down her back 

White are the cornices 

And not even a crack 

Dizzy the spell 

she wove looking down

Crystal it shattered

The ivory crown 

Six was the number 

On the rusty old door

One was the room 

She could not ignore

Lavish the silk 

In a ruffled grey gown

Boy in her arms 

With horn bearing frown

Coven the name

 of the thin white lace

Haven to all 

was the heart in this place

‘’Come’..she whispered 

In night walking trance

And strobed through the love light

In gossamer dance

Dare not turn

To see the hands that hold

Wispy eyed conjuring

Of mirrored eyed dolls

 

Constance

https://commaful.com/play/darkcountess/Screen Shot 2018-06-10 at 21.57.45

Amber hue

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There is a certain knowledge

From looking to the outside 

While staying in

The velvet of the curtains 

That deepen the sun’s rays 

Into amber hues

The light filtered to keep out

What squints and promotes

The forceful eye

The softness of the linen 

In fragrant wash and fold

to cover the toes

The smile not showing

to hide what others see

And grow a fantasy world 

Voices muffled from the streets 

of semi living beings 

With nowhere to go

A purpose , a sense

And nothing I know 

Is what I breathe

The ringing in my ears 

Is not the flu 

Nor sickness

Merely the thoughts 

From day one of life

Jumbled 

As I close one eye

And lay on the side

Where heart beats 

Thumping and flight 

Move to mind 

Of another realm

My world

………

Constance

 

https://commaful.com/play/darkcountess/

Midnight Sands

As the desert called ,

A strand of silvery sky led 

The walking trance of a dream

Into a path of sandmen sunsets 

And swaying bodies

Centuries before any chains 

Were placed with belief

A smoke of magic with moons engraved

The stars a map to a mystic place of wonderment

Here she stood naked before them all

A queen of knowledge and purity

And they dressed her in smudged eye

And midnight silks adorned in jewels

She was the one true source 

Of all things to be

As wise as the Oud that played the tune

And the fluting melody of the skies above

Slowly , rhythmically calling with no voice

But eyes of amber in a blackened cloud

Only the ready could hear her voice as 

She made love to their senses

And showed them the path of deliverance

The berbers bowed and prayed unto her 

And named her ‘holy one’ for she knew secrets no other could find…

 

Constance

https://commaful.com/play/darkcountess/

Willing the Wisp

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Have you come again?

My dearest friend

Like a smokey cloud 

Lift your veil

and bring me sweetly 

tidings of the other life

Im here within you 

And you within me 

like a knot and chain 

Embroidered together 

in our darkest moments

to Kiss a breath of smothered embers

It is there beyond the oceans 

Deep within the inking map of yore

The sea of dragon’s mist 

Yet another journey

I prepare for

I braid my hair and ready the silver

Shining through the foggy pass

and morsel the rites of my last life

to the drum of the singing lad

My eyes and soul protrude my vision 

And run into the crashing waves

I’m on my way to secrets known 

We of the other realm

conjur our magical words 

Of the unnatural , beautiful kind..

 

Constance..

https://commaful.com/play/darkcountess/

#darkpoetry #magical#witchcraft#wisp#conjur#darkness

Organic Love

 

As my very first post , I’d like to share a little bit more about myself other than just my love of art dolls through my web site. As an artist , I could hardly say I do only that because that would be a dream come true. I also write , which is also a spare time love!

My day jobs have been , a wide array ,from teaching , to lecturing and cosmetology. !

As a specialist in fragrance , which is what I currently still do, I’d like to say that I have maintained , outside my profession ,an immense love for all things fragrant. For many years in the perfume industry I have steered away  from the ultra commercial and maintained a quality in life with the very basics ,hard to find, or very well made as one might say. I will never advertise nor in print bring about any branding because I believe product is like true love, you believe in what does it for you..it’s a pheromonal experience and a weak at the knees emotion with an olfactory reminder of memories never to be forgotten.  One thing I can say in code as such is that, there are fragrances as a minimalist I always wear, only two…maybe even a third in summer. One my mother wears, is an after the rain memory….for those of you who have perfume knowledge ..and one my sister has forbidden any other member of the family to wear a deep oak moss and peach blossom with the ultimate geisha signatures of all perfumes…mine…an aromatic concoction of undergrowth and mother earth’s wonders for all beautiful human beings to wear from another time…as old as its timeless bottle and as  modern as its undying love with rosemary, lavender and bergamot …certainly a bewitching substance!

Anything that can tickle my nasal  palette will get me going , whether it perfume ,soap or a warm earthy meal . Books dug up in mouldy charity shops . Sharpened pencils, and freshly rubbed oregano from Greece where my mother lives. My son’s t-shirts that have an outgrown childhood smell that have grown into manhood.Mushrooms that still smell of the forest. Thread and twine that have a distinct same smell of wheat or flax when dried…Shamelessly instant coffee with milk in tin coffee cups that remind me of my dad who would make coffee for all of us in our camper van on our fishing trips off the coast of Sydney.

There is nothing in the world that can cause that magickal spark as vividly as the memory of smell. And it is so much more alive in rural areas. The sense of organic lifestyle were the earth is so much more alive. Your nasal passage seems to scream with abundant vivacious energy ..”Give me things to breathe in!!! ” Whereas the city has its gas and cement and restaurants with boiled over fats..and grey melancholy…!

The ocean spray, the seaweed . The grass and trees blowing lightly with the breeze , even the smell of dung from the sheep and cows is welcome of  the organic lifestyle .Ongoing  and into the earth..giving and returning …

The love of an organic lifestyle is one that you either love or not. And you don’t have to love clutter. Some wood, granite, linen , glass and metal are organic products that can constitute a lovely country design lifestyle in a minimalist accord…just a lot more down to earth and in all its simplicity with so much flavour and scent!

Constance

https://commaful.com/play/darkcountess/