'Writers are liars by nature, but just because of that, don't discount us. For it is through our lies that we tell the truth. Our stories become the mask.'

Saturday, 21 February 2015

The Twenty-Three Seas...




Black water trails paths,
 down the walls of this house...
burning grooves in the wood,
and seeping its' arctic mist into your mind...
into your moods.
 
You hear the ocean heaving beyond...
the fragile walls,
listen to the scratching of wind...
against the windows,
feel the heavy cold...
deep within your bones.
 
The rain has been falling for a millennia now...
and we have long forgotten the feel,
of warm skin against our own...
the brilliance of the afterglow of day,
forgotten a breeze that does not claw at our cheeks...
wearing away memory,
and time...
into distance.
 
 
 
Often we sit...
upon the dark rocks that surround,
this ever raging sea...
Feel the salt clogging our lungs,
the wind that ravages us with taunting fingers...
the agelessness of this land.
 
A long time ago...
we sewed within ourselves,
a flame...
a glim-light,
to light up the darkness of our souls...
and so we sit and wait,
wait for this oncoming storm...
as the land grows colder,
and our skin as the stones...
 
Our only reflections are captured beneath,
the tidal rock pools that scatter the beaches...
and cliffs,
we see ourselves...
only as a shimmering of water,
movement...
endlessness,
then briefly...
gone.
 
 
 
Can you tell us...
the truth behind what curses us?
Why we wait...
 
Can you sing to us...
can you unravel,
 the symphony our genes create?
 
Where do our glim-fires rest...
when we are centuries-past dust,
and rested well between the bones of the earth...?
 
Can you tell us these things?
For in one way or another...
they have been lost to us,
in the quiet...
in the whistling wind,
that brings change...
and sight,
but forgetting.
 
The strength to be alone...
and yet not.
 
We whisper everyday to the shells...
to the creatures of the deep,
the wales that travel skies far above...
and the small ones that live,
beneath us...
We tell them our stories,
what might be...
and what has,
and what will...
 
 
 
Aeons before,
we learnt that there was a way to come back...
and a way to see beyond,
to open the right door...
and see the path out of our labyrinth,
What we forgot...
was that the labyrinth saw,
the labyrinth heard...
and it came for us,
but...
that is a song we shall never sing,
not ever again.
 
Now we dwell in the timelessness of this ocean...
this land,
ever-stormy...
ever-colder,
and always we wait...
 
 
 
We watch the night patterns that scour the skies,
the dancing of the planets...
the illumination that fills the depths of the sea,
the figure...
shadowed and tall,
who always appears in the first three minutes...
of the third hour of the morning,
the hour we know as darkness...
Upon the sea edge.
 
 
We hear the song the dunes sing into the world...
and the brief memory,
like the most Brilliant of stars...
of seeing the universe,
melt into us...
into our forever,
until we are...
consumed.
 
 
 
 
 
 Hey there lovely dreamwalkers...
 
     It just so happens that at long last, I am twenty-three years old tomorrow...on the 23rd of the 2nd month. For humour and disbelief's sake, I have placed below a list of the many significant facts about 23; for those who also have this number in their lives...
 
 
  1. 23 is the most commonly cited prime number and the only prime number that consists of two consecutive prime numbers.

2. Two divided by three makes 0.666 recurring

3. The Hiroshima bomb was dropped at 8.15am - 8+15= 23.

4. Charles Darwin's Origin of Species was published in 1859 - 1+8+5+9 = 23.

5. The Sept. 11th attacks: 9+11+2+0+0+1 add up to 23.

6. Each parent contributes 23 chromosomes to the start of human life. The nuclei of cells in human bodies have 46 chromosomes made out of 23 pairs. Egg and sperm cells in humans have 23 chromosomes which fuse and divide to create an embryo.

7. Julius Caesar was stabbed 23 times.

8. Kurt Cobain was born in 1967 and died in 1994 - 1+9+6+7= 23, 1+9+9+4 = 23.
9. The Knights Templar had 23 Grand Masters

10. The first morse code transmission - "What hath God wrought?" - was from the Bible passage Numbers 23:23. In telegraphers code 23 means "break the line"

11. "W" is the 23rd letter of the alphabet. It has two points down and three points up. Half of W is V, which is the roman numeral for 5.

12. The "W" on your keyboard is right between the 2 and 3.

13. E is the fifth letter of the alphabet, and also the most commonly used in the English language. Half of W is V, which is the roman numeral for 5.

14. The average human physical biorhythm is 23 days.

15. The Titanic sank on 4/15/1912; 4+1+5+1+9+1+2=23.

16. The tilt of Earth’s axis is roughly 23 degrees.

17. The pattern of DNA shows irregular connections at every 23rd section

18. Humans have 23 vertebra running down the main part of their spines

19. Blood circulates the body on average every 23 seconds

20. The average circumference of a human head in inches is 23

21. The Harmonic Convergence occurs every 23,000 years.

22. Geosynchronous orbit occurs at 23,000 miles above Earth’s surface

23. 23 Annunaki aided in the seeding of life on this planet.

24. April 19th as in 4-19... 4 + 19 = 23. April 19 is the date the Battle of Lexington, Waco, and the Oklahoma City Bombing.

25. Asteroid researchers measuring the rotation periods of asteroids reported that none were found with periods of less than 2.3 hours. A rotation period of less than 2.3 hours would cause them to be torn apart.

26. B.C.E the politically correct term meaning "Before Common Era", or more to the point, before the supposed birth of Christ B, C, E: the 2nd, 3rd, and 5th letters of the alphabet

27. The most frequent numbers in the Book of Revelations are 4 (the powerful beasts), 7(seven seals, seven churches, etc.), and 12 (12 apostles, etc.). 4+7+12=23

28. I Corinthians 15:56, Paul said "The sting of death [23] is sin and the strength of sin [13] is the law [10]."

29. The address of the Freemasons lodge in Stafford, England is 23 Jaol Rd. In New York it is on 23rd street.

30. There are 2,300 stones comprising the Great Pyramid

31. There are exactly 23 characters, numbers and letters on the face of all U.S. coins

32. On December 23, 1805 the Federal Reserve Act passed in congress. 
  Just some facts to make you feel so much safer hehe...all I can say is that this year may be interesting....
 
  Much Love,
   Miss CLScarlett xx
 
 
 
 
 
All my thoughts have washed away...
my only desire is to see the other side of this coin,
to reach a place where time stands still...
where there are no time pieces ticking,
no eyes perceiving...
no moods influencing,
peace...
and the endlessness of the sea,
one day...
One Day.
 
Lat Infinita.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 


Sunday, 15 February 2015

Frozen Aeons...

 
 
The whistling silence,
It bores holes in distant places...
Deep beneath our earth,
the grey warrior sleeps...
We feel these battle-torn rivers,
overflowing their banks...
To seep ice through our halls,
fog through our mind...
and we only ever dream of monsters now,
something waking in our bones...
Claws ticking and nicking the slow hours away,
spinning tunnels of depth...
Where we seek blindly for the door,
A way out...a way out...
See the ways,
we have already lost ourselves to the nothing.
Sleep, scream...spin,
Doesn't it just make you...
want to laugh and laugh,
these ghost-hours away?
I hear it coming now...
This storm of death,
the approaching darkness beyond this empty plain...
The dread that grows more viciously,
for there is no place...
not anymore,
to run...
to hide.
We look at those 2D images...
That dart their way about us,
doing this and that...
unaware of the darkness,
breathing down our necks...
Wake up,
wake up and see.
I see only death waiting...
out there,
Out wide...
The sun has gone,
and we have plunged beneath...
Frozen aeons.
 
Miss CLScarlett xx


Thursday, 1 January 2015

ilmaginareum Macabrett

 
 
Our first symbol,
given to us this year...
was the blue Kingfisher.
 
We have always believed in signs,
in happenings...
slip-ways and symbols,
that there is a pulsing heart of the world...
the great puzzle box of life,
that manoeuvres us...
and changes,
press the right surface...
and a new world will unfold.
 
We see the connections...
feel the press of all their spirits,
against our skin...
the energy of everything living,
bolstering us up...
at one point we were something like angels,
but a kind of the seas and wild storms.
 
Your mind traces the dark forests that surround our home...
and eventually their black and twisted branches,
etch upon your mind...
an eternal mark.
 
 
We found the fallen kingfisher...
the pale one and I,
in the deepest part of the forest...
near the place where once we died,
and saw the white stones...
felt the mist,
his claws...
their claws,
the thousands of claws.
 
It was only distant now...
and hear,
the kingfisher...
as a symbol of Totem,
the kingfisher represents the unseen...
moving forward,
enlightenment...
and was also considered a messenger for such creatures,
as water nymphs...
even the gods.
 
Now.
 
A small experiment if you Please...
 
We are delighted to welcome you to...
 
iImaginareum Macabrett.
 
 
Turn off the music...
Listen instead to ours,
focus in on my voice...
come just a little bit closer,
now sit...
 
Feel the shadows coil about you,
the wooden, creaking floor beneath your bare feet...
The smell of this place is insatiable,
is it not?
The scent you have always followed...
beyond where your dreams led,
something like musk...
oak,
salty air...
Such a dusty,
ancient smell.
 
The tune you say?
We have no name for it here...
though it has played throughout our many lives,
but what we do know...
is that the longer you listen,
the more you become...
hypnotised.
 
 
 
Hear the rasping, soft hiss of drums,
the chanting, echo singing that rises about...
the tapping of bone against claw,
against bone...
the thudding of thousands of feet,
a million drums...
beating,
hammering...
rusking,
tapping....
slamming,
shuddering...
each beat, beat, beat, beat, beat, beat....
into your mind.
 
Tap, tap...
splinter,
tap...
tap.
 
Now...
take care dear fellow,
for many have become swallowed whole...
by our music,
for it is a leviathan...
the same as our many others.
 
I want you to imagine something for me now...
if it would trouble you not,
for we are a jester court of dreams and nightmares...
the arts of shaping blank space,
into palaces...
skies,
planets and universes.
 
Imagine the world...
as a single dark globe.
 
 
Towns and cities...
people and beasts,
are lost to our memory...
and a million hundred years of dust,
shift and moan in storms across this expanse...
of world.
It is silence,
absence...
lifeless,
dead.
 
Now...
you are floating down towards its' surface,
you feel your toes dip into the dust...
it feels like nothing,
less than nothing...
a thousand particles finer than air,
opening about you...
you sink past your legs,
your stomach, your neck...
your mouth,
and finally you are swallowed completely...
you sink down,
further and further...
miles down,
Everest's down...
sea abysses further,
the world blindness and deafness about you...
You sink for months,
until finally...
you reach its' end,
you fall into bitter cold...
and the softest of glowing blue lights.
 
 
 
You land a second later,
falling to your knees...
and sitting up.
You are at the very centre of this dead world...
in a circular room as small,
as a cupboard.
The blue light emits from a single grey candle...
at the rooms very centre,
and the room is so cold...
that you can no longer feel your fingers,
your toes...
your heart.
You glimpse your nails turning blue,
as you look to the candle.
 
It is then that you see,
beside the candle...
a very large crow,
as dark as the darkest of darks...
its' eyes are the same silver,
of the candle.
 
 
 
It cocks its' head and stares at you,
seeming to smile or glare or weep.
 
'There is no hope left in this dead world,
but in yours...
in your time,
perhaps.
Here is the riddle I shall impart to you,
that may definitely or may definitely not...
save your world,
from just such a fate.' the crow cried, laughed and shouted.
'Six more of something will come,
then two must die...
and something must be given,
and another thing taken...
before a choice,
must be made...
and a sacrifice done,
before an end will come...
only eyes that are unhindered,
will see the truth of the end...
or else all shall be lost,
and the world as this.'
 
 
 
Come back now dear friend...
from the deep depths of that cold,
dust-filled world...
come back to the warmth of our tents,
take this drink...
warm yourself by our fires,
for travelling so far is bitterly cold upon the soul...
what little you may have.
You have performed excellently well,
upon your first visit...
to,
 
iImaginareum Macabrett.
 
We do hope to see you again.
 
 
 
 
 
 
Hey there Darlings,
 
    2015 is here, to be very un-melodramatic. So many strings tie me to what will come from this year, and still the silence persists. The second symbol of my year was the wasp, which apparently represents new beginnings, creation and productivity. I helped the wasp - which was caught in my house - to get back outside. Two animal rescues in two days....maybe I'll get to rescue a dragon tomorrow.
 
  I hope your year is filled with freedom and something like happiness.
 
Much Love,
   Miss CLScarlett xx
 


Saturday, 27 December 2014

Sunday, 21 December 2014

These Oceanic Dreams...


 
Our thoughts have become like leviathans to us...
Listen and hear our tale,
of this flip-side Christmas...
that we have lived many a year,
these words sink down through earth and bone...
lighting the dreams of innocents and criminal alike,
and again and again we fall...
we fall.
 
We are the in-between angels of the coldest places,
of the season...
we are in the briefest of smiles,
a mug of soup handed to a wandering soul...
the impression of music that teases your ears,
from just around the corner...
enticing,
and leading you on...
and as the secret keepers of old,
in coercion of the Sinister Meeting Room...
we send to you a letter,
you should find its' Material Form...
at half past the third hour of the morning,
in a teapot or a casserole dish...
depending on the weather about your home.

 
 
In essence this letter is an invite...
to step away from the sanity,
of our unending reality...
a small break in time,
to celebrate the most gothic of Christmas gatherings.
 
'For those who are born of the cold and the grime...
for those who call the streets their home,
for the faded hearts...
the ones who have forgotten,
the ones who no one dare invite to their parties...
and the one who don't believe anymore.
 
We care not for your faith...
nor for how evil and dark you are inside,
whether you have celebrated this season alone before...
or never seen fit to leave,
we bring to you...
a celebration for you.

 
 
Come one come all...
our poisons are divine,
we know you will find a certain cavalier...
in our merry Hell-bell of this festive twilight,
of delights.
 
You shall be called forth two nights hence...
until then,
keep what hearts you possess close...
and set guards by the doors at night,
listen always to the clock...
for it will chime,
our call...
your cry.'
 


...Miss CLScarlett xx...
 

 
 
 

Friday, 19 December 2014

Post-Denial of the Christmas Kind...

 
We are what we are...
 
However,
sometimes masks are enough...
and superstitious diversions clever enough to warp our truth.
 
We are however...
the Creatures that stalk,
the first two or three weeks of December...
we do not speak,
and we can no longer remember...
What we once knew however,
has become tattooed upon what skin...
 they allowed us to keep.
 
So now we read our own stories...
as though they were stars that had been inscribed,
in the Heavens above.
 
So it began...
We woke first deep beneath the earth,
to darkness and freezing cold...
we felt hands against our new wings,
twisting and teaching...
Teaching us what it was to feel fear,
so we would grow...
We were taught there was no life,
without fear...
 
 
Yet my Brethren and I,
we resisted...
We clawed our way up through the clay,
through the centipedes...
through the bones of old monsters,
to reach that harsh air of the above...
So finally we saw,
and felt...
and heard,
and remembered...
as the rain fell,
and then...
They,
came for us...
the Ones of Law,
the ones of deeper magic...
than we could fathom.
 
They cursed us...
forevermore.
Placed us in human forms,
that were mere prisons...
for the indescribable beings we had once been.
They placed us under the guard of many...
bondages wrought through debt,
through price...
through love,
through fear...
and still we cannot escape.
 
 
 
These silver threads bind us stronger than any chains...
and we long to destroy and cut and unravel,
but instead we are appointed the thieves...
the waifs,
the orderlies of the night.'
 
Ignore us shadows...
dear Sir and MadMadam,
for it is merely us...
wrapped up within a myth,
and sending you the remnants of what celebration we can give...
to you,
for once you have been properly terrified...
no greater is the beauty,
than of something as simple as a Christmas tree.
 
Perchance...
to dream of a true new start,
to dream a new dream...
and allow these wings to take flight,
to run further and farther than anywhere we have ever been...
to where no one will know our name,
and time takes a breather...
from his never-ending task,
of counting the many hours and minutes that had passed...
 
 
 
 
Let us rest and dream and create and remember and laugh....
 
I wish you already,
a Merry Christmas,
as melodramatically gothic as I can make it...
and please,
if you are - like me -....
a memory junky,
watch Home Alone 2: Lost in New York.
 
I will tonight...
though more often than not,
I need to watch Sucker Punch...
someone please buy me it for Christmas?
 
 
Much Love,
 
Miss CLScarlett xx
 
 


Thursday, 4 December 2014

A Small whisper if you please...

 
May I tell you a story?
May I tell you a small version of the truth?
Allow me first to introduce myself,
I am your host...
the monster of your soul,
you may call me Mr. White n S...
and ware,
for Miss Scar is temporarily gone.
 
I shall reveal to you something I know,
something that was told...
there is a secret you see,
for the world is not merely black and white...
 
The skeleton of the world was set,
many moons ago...
it was not an orb,
single in space...
but a hundred,
perhaps a million...
interlacing spheres,
the creep-ways and gaps between where they overlap...
we have always found the trouble,
to slip between...
 
What is the past?
But a note of dust...
We can only ever live within our dreams,
without them...
perhaps our minds would be lost,
our sanity rent...
for to live in pure reality,
is something that you as humans could never accept.
You claim to not have dreams?
Dear, dear...
who fills their eyes with moving images?
Of a thousand spectacular colours and stories...
you who surrounds themselves with infinite sound,
who meditate...
down the tenth bottle,
breath the poison...
kill,
maim...
torture,
even when you tell a Child...
of the mysteries of Christmas,
all dreams...
we are born into a reality of dreaming,
which you may never wake from...
perhaps that is better.
 
Than what would remain...
 
Tell me something dear friends,
Do you hear it?
In your blood...
its' quickening,
the painful shiver of your skin...
the noises that stretch closer,
when your back is turned...
turn again dear,
no turn again...
let it drive you insane,
again and again...
until you smash apart the house,
to destroy that presence that is ever behind you...
yet once all lies as fragments at your feet,
still you feel it...
breathing its' freezing breath against your ears,
and you know it cannot be killed...
for it is the voice of your fear.
 
 
 
Let me tell you another tale...
about the ward I have elected to stand by my side,
what is the benefit...
one would ask,
of such a thing...
why stay close to a person,
who is a mess of darkness?
Mayhem and un-luck?
Indeed...
she keeps her masks fine,
and really mentioning such things...
about her fragile lucid state of mind,
she'd no doubt bite-off your hand...
denial is also kindred to her heart,
now as for reason...
a creature such as me has its' ways,
and she provides ample payment...
I am the kind who feeds off the dark,
and so find it quite to my liking...
I have been with her so long,
she follows the smallest of my suggestions...
I branded her mind long ago,
and now she knows no other love.
 
Do you want to hear the truth?
What she hides so well?
She is emotionless...
except at a basic level,
like the deepest depths of the sea...
its' storms,
maelstroms and typhoons...
and as mad.
All you see however of her...
is the placid,
clear and open shallows...
of a beach in paradise,
don't be fooled...
she has the capacity for death,
and indeed death follows her...
all throughout her life.
 
 
 
This girl has cut away her sentimentality...
and what endearing qualities she possesses,
are flawed by the emptiness and agitation...
that fills her by the hour,
my strength is becoming hers...
and ours is a strength of darkness and demons,
so be the labyrinth...
I watch her scramble about,
wait for her to come back to me...
proving my words again and again,
you little Scar...
are but a ghost,
without me at your side...
yes I do not save you from the Daerk,
and yes I am the one who whispers...
'drink just one more',
'go faster'...
'try this,
open the right door...'
For I am a face of darkness just as the rest,
and better the demon you know...
especially one that is the only being she trusts,
for my truth...
that I give,
despite the lies...
I reveal,
is more precious to her than...
the horrors that lay out there.
 
 
The end result is far better...
for she was always my gateway,
my first physical step...
into entering this world,
once she gives in...
once she stops believing in a capacity for sanity,
for retaining it...
for the capability of good,
then I shall truly be revealed...
I whisper the truth to her,
that time is hacking itself to pieces faster and faster...
and you already feel in your bones,
the death that awaits you...
for when death accompanies and destroys,
when Fate brings its' insane-ridden tricks...
upon all you know and care for,
you choose loneliness....
and the company of a demon,
so as to safeguard those many lives...
that you now feel to be as alien to you,
as the planets...
and you know,
that eventually death and Fate...
will tire of tormenting you by their pain,
and choose to devour you instead...
Don't you long for that dear Scar?
Perhaps they will continue your suffering...
Because we know it is this you seek,
it is nearest my greatest pleasure...
to talk you into holding the knife,
the gun...
the noose,
to your head...
and watching as you fail again and again,
and when you finally give up...
I will give you a Daerk reason to live again,
for it is also my greatest joy to deny you this...
your freedom or your death,
for death is not freedom...
for a greater darkness waits for you there,
soon I will convince you to buy that ticket...
and disappear into that far horizon,
be away and apart...
and by your side I shall remain,
as you age...
and soon only my eyes,
see your beauty...
after it is long gone,
my esteemed comrade...
you certainly knew when you pulled me,
from the deep DreamTime...
that I would become your heartbeat,
and your portion of sanity...
the comforting hand leading you away,
from the abyss...
when it is all you can feel,
and taste.
 
Sleep well Scar,
for I am the only one tethering you...
to the here and now.
 
My cold embrace...
is your sweetest addiction.
 
 
 
 
 
  I travelled to a lonely beach the night past this one. My two friends and I
     Careful Scar...saying such things always lead to heartache...or had you forgotten?
found a small alcove amongst the mist and shore breaks to rest the night...
  I remember being awake at sometime past three and seeing the stars viciously cold and bright,
so close and beyond impossible...
   Tell them Scar, tell them why you no longer sleep...why you keep your lights on throughout the hours of Darkness. Tell them...or should I?
  You've never needed permission from me before to cut apart my life So...
  You really have lost your touch dear...I do not perform the cutting, I merely lead you to its' door. There I will be waiting...for you to come back out, and come to me for comfort...
  So you say.
 ...and so I do. Right now however, you need to accompany me away from here. We have a certain meeting that requires both of us...a possible signature, but please don't trouble yourself dear...I am well acquainted with this kind of contract...all we need is your assent, a small forgetting...
  I don't...
  Come now Scar...of course you do...
  Sh........................................
 
 
 This is a small notice of Apology from
The Sinister Meeting Room...
The enigmatic Mr. White n S temporarily overtook our System of Degrees,
all shall be returned shortly to functioning capability...
until then please remain in our Reception Room,
a summons shall be sent to your shortly.
 
S.M.R