Tag Archives: endarkment

Love Me Not (Just Fuck Me…Please!)

15 Jul

Image and prose are property of Julia DarkRose
By Julia DarkRose
©2015

*This is meant to be a fun prose. I am most definitely poking fun at over dramatic Goths and wanna-be vamps.*

Love Me Not (Just Fuck Me, Please!)

Tell me no more of minds embracing minds,                          JuliaDarkRose~2015 Watermark
and hearts exchanged for hearts;
Tell me no more of dark spirits meeting and becoming one dark soul.
Tell me no more of our unbodied essence
sharing the dark bloody kiss,
and then like fallen angels, twist and become one in our despair,
and oh, so very misunderstood, dark bliss.

I was once that silly thing that once wrought
to practise this esoteric love;
I climb’d from Gothic sex to Gothic soul, from somber soul to thought;
But thinking there to move,
headlong I rolled from thought to soul, and then
from soul I lighted at the bloody sex again.

As some strict down-looked women pretend to fast,
who yet in closets eat;
So lovers who profess of the spirits taste,
Feed yet on grosser meat;
I know they boast their souls to souls convey,
however they meet, the body is the way.

Come, I will undeceive thee.
They that tread those vain intangible ways,
are like young heirs and alchemists misled
to waste their wealth and days,
for searching thus to be ever rich,
they only find a medicine for the itch.

Oh, keep thy delusions to yourself.
Oh, lie not to me about those imaginary
things which you cannot see.
Oh, my poor, poor, misled, Gothic soul,
oh, love me not,
just fuck me…please!

~Julia DarkRose

Life

1 Jul

©Julia DarkRose
2015

Life                                                                       red night sky owl

“I’m not losing my mind,
I was just looking for the breath of life,
trying to find my dreams again,
a little sight of the beginning and the end,
a fleeting vision of the stars and the glittering air,
a vision of the All from the Nothing.”

Oh, my hallowed lambs, all you need is one more touch,
one more sweet caress,
just one more sensation of the mystical storm,
just one more breath of life.
Oh and then you’ll believe,
oh my, how you will believe then…

You say you just need your heart to bleed,
to beat in time with the thunder.
You say you just need your eyes to cry tears,
that cascade down the banality of your creviced face,
like the silky rain,
of a deathless life.

You need to dance with the wind again,
but your heart is a hollow place,
and for you the wind no longer blows through your soul,
the thunder has stopped crashing through your mind,
and the cleansing rain simply slides off of your numb flesh.
For you, the moon reveals no secrets, She is silent.

Oh, oh, oh, oh,
you’ll never find that breath of life,
you’ll never taste that mystical storm,
you’ll never have just one more touch…

Oh, my sacramental darling,
If you just breathe out the distorted fable of nirvana’s gleam,
and inhale the black blizzard in,
to dance with you once again,
under the ruby moon,
you’ll search no more for a breath of life…
Oh, my, no,
you will finally be the breath of ALL life.
~Julia DarkRose

Closing Thoughts

26 Jun

Closing Thoughts
By Julia DarkRose                                                            Dancer of Fire
©2015

This one thought keeps echoing in my head…
fear prevents one from joining the fray of life,
leaving only carrion while the brave carry off the choicest meats.
With that thought, I rise and howl. The hunt has begun…soon I will be drowsy and reveling in my blood-euphoria. The
mere thought of my prey’s blood coursing through my body, being covered in their sanguine elixir…devouring
(this is, of course, subjective, so please spare me your harsh judgements based upon your complete lack of any real experience and/or your reality of NOT being borne a Human Living Vampire-or insert your own label) them body and soul…is almost more than I can bare to think about without my natural borne inferno escaping my fiery spirit and body and setting the world ablaze.

Not yet…once more I go into the fray.
Once more I hunt, devour, and become the glorious predator that nature has made me.
I am a creature of the night.
I am your most horrific nightmare and
I am your most sensual dream.
I am on the prowl.

I understand that not everyone is a
predator (thank the darkness for that, I mean
how would our Mother’s sacred cycle of
life work if we were all the same!?),
but joining the fray of life is necessary for
our own evolution, ergo, the continued
positive evolution of our precious earth.

At some point in your life (if you are fortunate and aware enough)
the phoenix will appear to you and present to you the opportunity to die in the fire and rise from your own ashes…a spiritual/psychological/physical death.

In order to achieve the transformation of the
phoenix one must be willing to go into the
fray, no matter how much fear you believe courses through your veins.

Your world seems to have cracked. You feel bruised, smashed. A band of flame circles your heart, you have become
paralyzed with unfounded fear. Fear put inside of you by society, by liars, users, and abusers.

Come with me/us, Julia DarkRose & The DarkRose Journal family,
and rise from the flames and feel the glorious burn of life
and all the beauty and heartache that comes with it.
Or not. It, your life and its quality, are always up to you.

The tears upon your face are like splashes of gems.
Your eyes are now wide and black and crazed with life.
You look and see your eyes and in the depths of them,
as if in polished mirrors, the ages of the earth, truth and eternal love, fire and darkness.
You are finally home.

~Julia DarkRose

Into the New Darklight

30 May

This, my final re-post…for at least 2 months (that’s my best guess, lol), is the “Letter From the Editor,” from Issue 6 (or maybe 5, my mind wanders sometimes and the things not immediately needed to remember in life get jumbled inside, lol). Again, thank you to everyone who has taken a few minutes out of their lives to read my literary art. It truly does mean more to me than I can easily convey in a social media post. It is my hope that somewhere, lurking either in the shadows of my words or standing up right in front of you whilst reading my hard earned wisdom (which is, of course, subjective), that you find what you need, if indeed you are searching, or that you find peace, if you are indeed in need, or
that my life transformed into prose, has somehow, in some way, helped you or at the very least, entertained you.

First, I would like to remind everyone of The DarkRose Journal ‘Fine Print,’ which has graced Her crimson pages from the very first issue (1994)…

By Julia DarkRose
©1994

Fine Print                                                            Julia DarkRose~Living Vampire 2013

This Journal is dedicated to exploring the pleasures of the Dark
and alternative realities, through the arts. These do not include
any manner of violent acts, kinkiness with unwilling parties,
sexual misconduct, exploitation of the young and/or innocent,
or illegal activities of any kind, even if the only aggrieved party
might be a right wing extremist, a left wing extremist, or a
politician.

Articles and features in the Journal are of an informative,
educational, historical, entertaining, or satirical nature.
Those who do not enjoy the Journal and do not wish to expand
their understanding of the world in which they live, and/or
broaden their horizons by exploring or reading about alternative
lifestyles that the Journal describes, should simply put it down
and not read the damn thing. The Dark and alternative lifestyles
are meant only for those who desire it, and is not meant to be
foisted upon any unsuspecting parties.

We do not practice evil
(Which is subjective anyway),
encourage anarchy, or think people should wear fishing hats to
funerals-although we defend the rights of people to do any of
these.

All those people out there who have such lonely lives and so
much free time on their hands that they think they should care
what books other people read, what movies they watch, and
which Gods (if any) they worship should just shut the hell up
and try to develop some kind of life of their very own.
So, there.
~The DarkRose Journal~

Into The New DarkLight
By Julia DarkRose
©2014

I am the darklight of all days that are passed, and my name is evolution.
I am the darklight of this day today, and my name is renewal.
I am the darklight of all days to be, and my name is
revelation…

Ancient flesh turned to stone,
Whitened dust of ancient bone,
Pure as death, cold as snow,
Dead thou wast, but livest now.
Crystal crushed, vision broken,
Spirit fettered, words unspoken,
What is frozen shall be warm,
What is formless shall take form,
What was scattered shall be whole,
Given life within this deceiver’s wasteland.

White of petals, white of ice,
White of dust and white of stone,
White of crystal, white of bone,
All things keeping, all things giving,
Out of nothing, all things living,
Out of emptiness, all darklight,
Out of blindness, now our sight.

I am now the crimson Light risen out of pure darkness:
From my brow springs all life again and again.
I am now evolved, I am now renewed,
I am now thy hope, and thy covenant, and thy
revelation.

I am alive; I wake from within my own dark embrace;
The white owl ascends, and I rise…

Out of the whitened ashes of humanity’s fire,
Out of the white stone and the white crystal,
Out of the pure white flame;
My feathers are scarlet and they are azure,
They are fiery, they are verdant,
They are golden, and they are of royal purple;
I am all things living,
I am the spring and the summer,
I am the autumn and the winter,
I am time, I am revelation,
I burn from this first dawn
Even unto the last darkness of this glorious life
Into which I will fall
And from which I will rise again…

I do not end, I am the DarkLight,
I have just begun!

Welcome to Issue 5
of The DarkRose Journal!

Welcome to renewal, healing,
empowerment, self-revelation, and true
transformation within the beautiful,
rejuvenating, Darkness.
From within your very own flames
of self-evolution.
Stand up and rise from the ashes!

*I enlarged this photo still from the last documentary that I did and it blurred. Sorry about that. Everyone say “Hello,” to Wes Hendricks, it is his blood that I am devouring. Thank you Wes! :-)*

Chained (My Story)

20 Mar

I had to deal with some extreme emotions the last few days, and as always, in doing so my painful childhood is brought to the surface and I must embrace it, transform it and breathe it back out into the world as pure, erotic truth and beauty. Many have already read this prose written about my years as a kidnapped sex slave starting when I was 12 years old. Many have not. I re-post it tonight as true evil forced upon me and the subsequent truth and beauty that I transformed it into. Thank you for taking a moment to read it.

Chained11071511_331515973708775_836698258705055703_n
(My Story)

I was a lovely child,
So fresh and wild,
Chained to the secret wall
Where no one else can see.

A dirty little cherished prize,
My body displayed like
A bruised butterfly.

Innocent vision,
A feast for their
Cold, dead eyes.

A fragile beauty
That they dared
To touch…

I was their caged flower,
Freshly cut and so
young and beautiful.
His sharp knife,
cut deep,
But it won’t hurt for long.

New life, shining in from the streams
Of light,
From the bloodied window
From high above,
My lashes stirred
Like feathers of a dove
On my bone smooth cheek,
Glittering midnight eyes uncovered,
From what seemed
Like a life long sleep.

They thought that I
Could be their freshly
Cut flower,
So young and beautiful…

Now I willingly shun the
Daylight fire.
I’m an earthbound angel,
Yearning for the twilight’s
Dark desires.

To die for my salvation,
My flesh must be strong…

Don’t worry he always said,
It won’t hurt for long.

~Julia DarkRose
© 2013

The Devil’s Breath

10 Jan

Property of DarkRose Productions
©2015 By Julia DarkRose

**This prose is, of course, written metaphorically.**

The Devil’s Breath                                                                 BeFunky_BeFunky_BeFunky_worship-woman2.jpg
‘Without the Devil, No “God”.’

Born this night,
Father of Fathers
Husband to Mother of Mothers,
Father of red waters
Father of black leaves,
Cup of silver, cup of crimson joy,
Holding the dark waters of sky,
Holding the dark waters of birth,
Holding the dark waters of sea,
Holding the dark waters of The Mother,
Bear the world the black magic child,
Who shall be thy child?
It shall be we, the crimson tribe.

Thou who are Lucifer
Thou who are Azazel
Thou who are Satan
Thou who are The Devil
Thou who are true Darklight
Thou who livest in true darkness
Thou who createst
Thou who destroyest
Thou who changest ever
From life to death
And death to life,
Never to hide thy face of cold fury,
Ready thy warm womb
Of mercy and truth,
Quench thy cold white fire,
In the fervid blood of life.

We are thy children,
Therefore art thou our true Father.
Now is the season of Darklight.
Now is the season of birth.
Who shall see him,
Springing from the rose-red waters of the womb?
From the womb of the moon,
From the womb of the Ebon Mother,
From the womb of verity.
Who shall see him
Where he springs forth?
Here and now, he shall be seen,
Here in us,
He shall be born,
Here his dark love
Shall be revealed.

Birthed of The mighty Prince,
Here we are,
Babes of the moon,
Born now for all of you.
We are the faerie children,
We are brother and son,
We are sister and daughter,
We are mother and father,
We are the earth,
We are the water,
We are the air,
We are the fire,
We are The Devil’s breath.
Our name is Legion,
Our name is Life.

My Dark Father whispered into my soul,
He breathed his breath of life into me,
He said,” I am coming, you must live…”

Oh, and live, I shall.

~Julia DarkRose

The Kiss

6 Jan

©2015 Julia DarkRose
**I have a sister in darkness or two that I would be honored to give my dark bloody kiss to, .**

The Kiss

After hot loveless nights, when cold winds stream,
sprinkling the frost and dew, before the inky light.
Bored with the foolish things that sanguine girls must dream
because their beds are empty of rubied dark delight.

The two sisters, one a beauty with strands of midnight
and one of golden fire, rise and strip.
Out from the night
their horses run to their low-whistled pleas-
Vast phantom shapes with eyeballs rolling white
That sneeze a fiery stream about their knees:

Through the crisp manes their stealthy prowling hands,
stronger than curbs, in slow caresses rove,
they gallop down across the milk-white sands
and wade far out into the sleeping cove:
The frost stings sweetly with a burning crimson kiss
as intimate as true love, as cold as death:
Their lips, whereon delicious tremors hiss,
fume with the ghostly pollen of their copper breath.

Far out on the grey silence of the flood
they watch the dawn as smouldering the horizon expands
beyond them; and the day burns through their blood
like a white candle through a quivering hand.

~Julia DarkRoseembrace2

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