Tag Archives: mother nature

Savage Beauty

17 Feb

Property of DarkRose Productions
Copyright 2014
By Julia DarkRose Ray
Savage Beauty

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…fucking my hunt then devouring them body and soul…is almost more than I can bare to think about without cum already dripping from my hot pussy.

Not yet…once more I go into the fray. Once more I hunt, devour, and become the glorious predator that nature has made…

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.

*Of course, now I only desire to hunt down my husband, my Devoted Blood.*



Her Majesty

26 Jan
Mother Earth_copy
Oh, and because I forgot to add in the important exemptions…if you are gravely ill or have some kind of physical impairment that reacts insanely painfully to extreme temperatures then I am obviously not including you in the group of people that need to stop whining about the miracle of our Mother and all her children. It is so very sad to me that I have to even write this…blah, blah, blah….
Property of Her Majesty, The Beautiful Mother…

Every winter,
When the great sun has turned his face away,
the earth descends down into a vale of grief,
and fasts, and weeps, and shrouds herself in raven wings,
leaving her wedding-garland to decay-
Then leaps in spring to his returning kisses…

Oh, how very beautiful she is!

Our Mother looks dead in winter because her life is gathered into her heart. She withers the plant down to the root that she may grow it up again, fairer and stronger. She calls her family together within her inmost home to prepare them for being scattered abroad upon the face of her body, our earth.

So, everyone quit your belly aching about how frickin’ cold it is! You can’t claim to be a child of nature, a Pagan, a Witch, a wolf, any kind of beast, and especially a living vampyre/human blood drinker/dark angel, if you can’t even understand the majesty of our Mother Earth! If you can’t truly see the miracle that is winter, or summer, spring or autumn, then how in the hell can you claim to be a spiritual mother/father, elder, all-seeing, all-knowing, blah, blah, blah…if you can’t even truly understand our real Mother? You know, the one from which all life was born!?! In my opinion, how about everyone stop posting memes, and quotes and excerpts from books, which they clearly do not understand or actually live, and try to truly see the world in which we our lucky enough to inhabit.

Just a thought…as always, you choose your course of action or lack thereof.

~Julia DarkRose Ray


26 Jan

Property of DarkRose Productions
Copyright 2012
By Julia DarkRose Ray

When all is done, much of human life is, at the greatest and the best, but like a froward child, that must be played with and humored a little to keep it quiet till it falls asleep, and then the care is over.

Why waste a perfectly miraculous and beautiful thing, your life?

One of the perks of being me, a real living Dark Angel…wasting my life, not living my life the most passionately and the fullest that I can, is not a part of who/what nature hath made me!

Whatever your path in life is, whatever you do, try to understand how miraculous life is. I speak as someone who has (from those looking at it from the outside) an unimaginable life of pure horror. I do know what the worst life has to offer actually consists of…Yet I know with all of my being, that life is a miraculous and beautiful thing. Don’t waste it on nonsense!


Lower than the grave
my darklight began,
into the starry heavens
soon I ran:
Here between earth
and space I shine,
my fallen dust
the twin to thine…
Star that I was,
star that I am,
star I shall ever be,
my name is woman.

While you see me across the sky
to wake and live and burn and die,
all in a crimson flash,
eternity watches me fall.
My trail of fire, no fire of the sun’s,
my star, a silver mirror,
a sphere, clear as glass,
my veiled face, a bright cloud,
more radiant for it’s obscurity,
my mystery, whose shadow
stands proud beneath the light,
my world, whose lands remain
unknown to most,
while I shinest most evident of all
beyond this world:

I reveal to you now
all that is obscure and hidden under day’s illusion;
I reveal to you the nature of all that you see,
set so far from earthly lands,
above earthly sight;
I appear to you now
in this crystal of fleshly stardust…

If you will have Antares,
scarlet sting of Scorpius,
or count for wealth, Capella,
gold-fleeced goat,
or Rigel, fire of sapphire,
pivot to Orions pace,
or Sirius his dog,
as white as snow,
yet flashing every color,
then come and find the darklight
you seek.
Mirrored in the red water,
break the wet glass,
pluck out my star
by my radiant tresses…

But do not dare
to look upon my stardusted face,
do not dare to know truth,
lest you go blind;
Bear me only in your mind.

A shuddering star,
I shiver and burst
on the moons white horn,
on this flashing sphere,
this globe of rainbows…
streaming air,
turbid world,
trembling planet,
great as what’s inside your head,
but thin as a thread
that wind can tear
from your precious life’s web,
do not despair…
Let this be said:

Out of the sun
you are ever born,
follow it not, that blinding orb,
with anxious eye…
With my words of midnight silk
and actions of dark love,
I will hold it together,
your web of life,
though what we have created,
may fall,
in tears,
like meteors,
from the sky.

I am the darklight…

I am borne from stardust…
Like falling glitter from the eye of the universe,
down, down, down,
onto this Earth.

I am woman,
the beloved daughter of our Mother,
the darkest light of all.

~Julia DarkRose Ray

The First Longest Night (An Ode to Winter)

15 Dec

Property of DarkRose Productions
Copyright 2013
By Julia DarkRose Ray
Ghost of Winter Night
*This prose is written from 2 perspectives. There are two “entities” having a “dialogue.” This prose is the “dialogue” between the physical darkness (night) and the physical Light (day), regarding the first longest night of our world. Since these two “entities” aren’t actually capable of human speech, I have written my prose more as thoughts being transmitted between the two. To make it easy to follow I have put an asterisk in front of each of the Light’s prose.*

I apologize for not being a better writer (yet), for if I were a better writer, I would not need to explain how to read my prose.

Okay, and here it is…

The First, Longest Night
(An Ode to Winter)

Who wakes me from the eternities of night?

*I am a star, a stranger, sent to bring thee light.

No light of thine can raise my fallen sun,
And I am dead, because his light is gone.
Thy light as well must dim for want of breath,
Please enter: share my darkness, and my death.
Thou bringest to me an unfamiliar flame–
Now tell to me thine origin and name.

*If thou couldest see beyond there,
My likeness as a beacon would appear:
The star thou callest Sirius is my name.
I am the great sun! Who, though a star
to thy short vision, flung from him so far,
Stands sun of suns, and monarch to thy king.
So by his might, he sendeth me to bring
This fragment of his light, A little spark
To kindle thee from sleep, and from the dark.

Return upon thy wings of foreign fire,
And tell thy king that I am past despair:
My bones are bare,
No warmth from them may grow.
I ask no gift, nor know to use one now.

*But if you should let me burn and live again,
Would I not raise you with me to his throne?
This light I bear, though, but a candle gleam,
Reveals to thee the vision I have seen:
The sun is living still!
Nor did he die:
His strength is only hidden from the sky,
Come and watch from Sirius’ flame, my flame,
You will see him burning evermore the same.
None die but thee,
And only by thy will can autumn wound,
And bitter winter kill.
I bring thee vision, fire, and this word:
That from his ashes, like a wakened bird,
Shall sun leap upward,
Bearing on his wings,
The hues of every earthly bird that sings.

If this be so, how shall I see him rise?

*This moment, on this day, before thine eyes!
Behold me now, Sirius, sun of suns, star of thy stars,
Though in my sky thou art invisible:
Yet I descend in the guise of flesh, bearing truth,
To succor such as ye,
Poor ashen creatures sunk to madness
And to sleep.

*Though I am cosmos to thy dust,
Radiance to thy shadow,
Noon to the night,
Still though art the child of thy sun, and
He is yet my kin,
Therefore art thou flesh and blood of mine as well,
And thus I give thee here my gift, my vision:
Infinite sight, when thou wert dead with darkness;
Wings, when thou had thought all wings unfeathered,
Fallen, failed.
Rise up then, child of the sun,
Rise to his dawn, reborn,
And feathered in the colors of his infant fire:
For what was true at noon
Is true as well at night:
The universe is ever an immortal phoenix,
Whose death is but his birth:
Nor is the earth an exile from his breast,
Where he spreads burning wings
Across all space:
Where his radiance expands, there
Dwells all dust:
Flawed, fallen, mutable,
Yet still immortal through eternity, dying ever,
Yet no less the flesh from whence springs light:
And where the darkness ceases,
Where even one poor mote of dust
Shall flaw the sphere of silence,
There may grow some sun,
Some earth, and fairest life,
And I, Sirius, burning eye of space, see all of these,
And give to thine own eye all that I see.
Rise then with me,
Rise to the immortal phoenix I proclaim,
And take my radiance for thine own.

*Now I shall rise,
Now I shall ascend.
Now I am assumed
In the greater fire of thy golden sphere,
O perfect golden king,
Never now to die,
Never to descend,
Nor to be consumed:
Now my wings are fixed
In thy heart of amber,
Now my face fixed
In thine eye of flame,
Now my name recorded
In this single moment,
Evermore to burn
As everlasting brands
Upon the endless dark.
What is wound
About the sun
May in no way wise be undone;
Though the seasons cloud his reign,
Still you’ll find him free from stain:
Fallen even
Into ruin,
He shall stand
As now you see him
Crowned with gold,
Wreathed in joy,
Substance death
Shall not destroy.



As much as I hate to admit it…
Without the Light (the sun), there can be no life.
Just to reiterate, this prose is not about the metaphorical Light and Dark, the Light and Dark that we choose for spiritual growth. This is about the necessary physical presence of the almighty sun.

Listen to the Dark Mother

9 Oct
I permit The Dark Mother (Nature) to take her own way; she better understands her own affairs than I.

With all that has been taken from me, again and again, in the most vile and horrific ways possible; To know how to live is all my calling and all my art.

The following, is NOT a rant, just thoughts rolling around in my head. Since I have an hour or so Internet usage, thought I would share. I’m not apologizing, however, I am also not ripping anyone in particular apart, on purpose. I’m just revealing our true history for those who care to know.

There is more ado to interpret interpretations than to interpret things, and more books upon books ( And E-Readers) than upon all other subjects; most of society does nothing but comment upon one another.

Which is understandable, not everyone is a doer, a person of action…still, where are my brothers and sisters? Surely, commenting on FB, Blogs, and Forum posts, posting memes (guilty) and images of sexy men and women and adorable animals is not all there is for the majority of humanity!?! The internet has only been available to the public since 1995 (interesting fact, at least to me, I published the first DarkRose Journal in 1994, pre-Internet. Speaking only for myself, of course, I was making things happen, changing things, shaking up the status quo, long before the internet…(Not singing my own praises, just using my life as an example, since I know without a doubt that it is the truth).

Just a reminder, as always you can take it or certainly ignore it, get the fuck out there and LIVE!!! Shake something up, anything. Cause change, touch someone’s life in the flesh…there is a difference. Don’t fool yourselves into believing that the internet is exactly just like holding, kissing, caressing, fighting, debating, fucking, stirring up needed change, etc…in the flesh world. IT IS NOT!!!! It should only be a diversion, a form of entertainment, a form of research, a threshold of some knowledge, perhaps a catalyst for change, for inspiration, etc…But it should never be your final destination (Not the movie). Never stop moving forward. Never stop LIVING. Never stop!!!
And please, I beg of you, STOP building worlds of delusion on the internet and then behaving as if your fantasy world actually means something, in the larger, more important and actual life changing picture, of your life, your children’s life, your family and friends and eventually, the world. Just try, maybe one day at a time, to go out into reality, and live all those things you pretend at on the internet. Just try it. Just be true to what/who The Dark Mother (Nature) hath made you. Come on, you CAN do it!!!

Really Long Side Note (it is related, I promise):
All most all of you that have only been “Living Vampires” since the onset of the internet, are very fortunate (or unfortunate, depending on your perspective). In the “old” days, we were underground (sometimes literally), and you had to PROVE that you were a Living Vampire in order to be allowed to be a part of the Vampire “community” (Underground). Of course, there were a few who could NOT prove that they were like us (real living Vampires), so they created a world based on LARP games and complete lies, with a little Occultism mixed in, so, PROOF was no longer needed. ANYONE can now claim to be a “Living Vampire.” However, the truth is, even though the mostly online vampire community (with some offline members and Houses) is quite massive now, the large numbers of self-labeled living Vampires, doesn’t make it anymore so the truth. In other words, we, the original members and founders of the Vampire Underground (and the modern V community), still exist, and we are the truth. How is it that we are the truth, you might ask? Simple, WE HAD TO PROVE IT! We could not be a part of the REAL VAMPIRE UNDERGROUND, WITHOUT ABSOLUTE PROOF, in the presence of the original Bloodline. Scoff, if you must because I understand that ridiculing and tearing apart that which you absolutely do not understand, makes you feel better about yourself and the delusions of others that you have chosen to embrace. Just because something is the majority, doesn’t make it the truth. And remember, very few of you can actually go all the way back to the beginning (that’s not an insult, just a statement of fact). What you have learned while playing Vampire and Werewolf on the internet, is NOT the truth nor is it the beginning, the true history from whence all this current madness sprung.

We, the originals (not the stupid TV show) still exist. You are still on our menu.

Thank you.

~ Julia DarkRose Ray

*Photo is of me back in the days of the original Underground.

The Surprise of Being

7 Mar

Property of The DarkRose Journal, 2013
By: DarkRose 3/7/13
Rose Reincarnation
The Surprise of Being

Every flower has its secret…

As you see it standing growing from the earth, clinging to its vine, or swaying on the tree,
You feel at once its sensual beauty…
Those pink articulate lips
Divinely flavoured portals to a mouth
Where soul dissolves…eyes darting, black as midnight
Beneath ebon brows, snares for the heart,
The twin rosebuds, fair beyond other flowers.
So sweet there is no tongue can praise her enough,
To be satiated with just one taste.
The candied perfume her breath affords,
No rosary, those silly beads,
or nunnery or crucifix,
or liars be,
can tear her ruby born petals away.At once you hunger for her moist centre.

There was always the flower that flowered inward, womb-ward;
It was always a secret.
That’s how it should be, they said,
The eternal feminine should always be a secret,
a veiled truth.

Then, under the ruminating gaze of the
luminous moon,
A tiny rosebud awakened…

For her, there never was standing aloft and folded on a bough
like the other flowers,
in a revelation of petals;
Silver-pink peach,
venetian glass of medlars and sorb-apples,
Shallow wine-cups on short, bulging stems
openly pledging the celestial heavens:

‘Here’s to the thorn in flower!’
‘Here is to utterance!’
So said the brave, adventurous rosaceae.

Oh, how the fruits fall and bruise,
the other flowers wither from the light,
Touched by a swallowed moon.
But for the valiant rose,
there were other incandescent nights-
And at once,as she acknowledged her Being,
all were singing their song of freedom:
The moonlight musical,
The darkness clinging,
And she, the first rose,
remained ever vigilant and devoted to
her garden of nighttime blooming flowers.



5 Feb

Property of The DarkRose Journal, 2013
Copyright 2/5/13, By DarkRose

No moon yet, but starlight burns in every direction. The crickets sing in the low lands as I climb, ears pricked and aware. The grass is dry, and the storm it desires but a distant rumble beyond the high ridges.

I, a dark rose, who have attained all life, now ask still further joy. For what is my sovereignty if I turn aside from my beastial pleasure? What is my earthly power if it stands still and rest content? I have flown from flesh to spirit, I have laughed at death. Should I not rejoice in this corporeal realm where flesh and death prevail?

I am invincible, I descend upon the ungrateful child’s conquered land and claim my spoil. I have lived here before, fixed to earth, Now, I live again. With my new strength, just as the long vine that hangs upon the tree of all life, I wind my dark wisdom home again and seize what is mine. Night is my drinking hall. No longer held by death and his minions: I crowd them out, those joyless hordes of earth’s bratty progeny. I pour the ruby wine of victory! I have conquered blood, now blood I shall take delicious delight in imbibing.

I seek others. Wolves and dark angels, no longer a phantom echo of my voice but a separate-therefore real-presence to feed my soul and run wild and free with me over and through our world. I hear them singing to me, the notes ring out this time on their own, scaling low to high, then dropping into a moan. I hear howls in the mountains, mournful, aching, desirous, calling to me, and I must go.

Up into the black sky I climb, as the moon rises past the river. I come closer to the sound, stepping along narrow ridges of sheared, weather-blunted slate, eyes watchful for a glimpse of shadowy fur or the gleam of midnight eyes in the silver light.

My nipples harden, my silky tresses become electric as all my attention focuses on the guiding whine: less than a thousand strides, I judge. I creep forward.

Silence. The howls have stopped. Hidden in the darkness of the grove, are the tribes of the moon, my brothers and sisters. The underbrush explodes, paws and wings crashing in a panicked flight. Once again I have noise to follow, and I begin to close on the others.

I fight the wind to climb the mountain and follow their bloody trail. My nose sniffs each clump of dirt, desperate to hold their scent. I gain the the snow-lined ridge and find fresh spoor, barely an hour old, in the pine groves. I cover each urination with my own mark. I will not sneak up on them and frighten them, but make my presence known as wildly and vocally as possible.

I feel stronger than before, and I notice as I pee that the stain is more pungent than last fall-signs of maturity driven home by the taste of blood as i nuzzle my crotch in investigation.

The rain seems endless in its vigor and intensity, but it lessens to a steady drizzle as I approach the tribe, my tribe. I am so very close now, I can taste the copper in the air. I begin howling and rolling in the grip of strong emotions.

I lift my face toward the silky moon and howl one last time. I am prepared to do this as long as my throat holds out, but almost at once an answer comes from upwind and uphill. It rises, in a mixture of surprise and happiness, and I hear the invitation in it: “Join us!”

I bound rapturously towards the direction of my tribe, and find myself on the banks of the rapids. The others stand on the far bank, and we look at each other, across the chasm that separates us.

A tangle of many branches, mud and small annoying rocks swell the river at a bend above the tree. Flash flood! I bark in warning, but still it seems my tribe cannot hear me over the crash of the lying rapids.

Even as the dirty water smashes the tree of life and engulfs them, I spring forward into the false dark flood. I hear a frightened yip as my tribe paddles to keep their heads above water, then silence. I swim into the flood towards the last sound. Everything is swirling and collapsing in the green-brown delusional froth atop the river.

A thump-splash of a wet, furry body against mine, and I sink my teeth into him to hold on while I strike out for where I think the shore of truth and darklight is. The soil of the banks erodes under my feet as I scramble, burdened with eight, to climb out of the raging river.

Then I feel him twitch with life and scrabble with his paw on the slick slate just underwater, finding toeholds under his own renewed power. I unlock my jaws thankfully, and I push my weary body onto safe ground.

Our skins have cuts from the jagged rocks and splintered branches of deceit, but they are surface wounds. Too cold and tired even to clean ourselves, we curl together into a small hollow on the north edge of a rabbit clearing. It offers some shelter from the sleeting wind as the eye of the storm moves southward and the backlash begins.

There we sleep, nose to tail for warmth, as the winds howl our names.

We rule the darkness and the light. Our blood is strengthened by the truth. We are the living gods and goddesses. The stars and the earth are ours to watch and rule.

We, my brother and I, awaken to a few bright stars and the moon upon our shoulders, glimmering in white and crimson silver. We set out to continue our journey, we must find the rest of our brethren. We must find the tribes of the moon…

I am neither vampire or wolf. I am Lamia, I am what I was born to be. Stay strong, I’m coming for you.


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