Tag Archives: night

Samhain Evensong

30 Sep

Samhain Evensong

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I wrote this prose about an hour ago. This was inspired by the creation of my new Hallowe’en video for 2017, that will be released for public viewing, midnight tomorrow!

Until then, here is a peek at my new Hallowe’en Season prose, inspired by my current Artistic Alchemists creation.

Thank you for taking a moment to read my thoughts translated into a painting made out of words.

Side note: Many readers have mentioned that because I usually write my prose in a mixture of olde english and modern english, that they have trouble following along. I do not see it that way, at all. There are also just as many readers that do not have any problem deciphering my prose. I did, however, tone the mixture of olde and modern down a bit. Since the publication of my book-Blood’s Truth-I have a rather large number of new readers. So, for their sake, I toned it down. I do believe, however, that the story of Autumn that is told through this prose, is easy enough for most to unravel and, hopefully, find dark delight within.

Respectfully and quite Appreciative,
~Julia DarkRose Caples

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Samhain Evensong
© Julia DarkRose 2017

O spirit of illuminated night,
Spectre of blinding sun,
Web of the Darklight,
Sea of Wisdom’s reflection,
Mirror of madness,
Bringer of visions,
Shall we rejoice with thee in this season of change…
in this harvest of death?
Or shall we fly from thee into the comforting arms of Springtide?

The mind must split.
The marrow must chasm.
The blood must curdle.
The heart must cease.
The flesh must rot.

Elixir’s fade and potions fail.
The sweet, thick red wine, changed to foul, thin water.
The river of bright blood is dried upon the skin.

Art thou redemption?
Art thou damnation?
Shall we adore thee?
Should we abhor thee?

Beneath the skin of confusion,
Behold the bones of that which is true:

Human sheath lacking blood,
Bone lacking husk,
Spirit lacking bone.
Arise and be fed.
Arise to bone and flesh and blood.
This Samhain night,
Renewed by the dark gospel’s food.
Nevermore to thirst for mine,
Nor on my living limbs to dine.

Silver Serpent,
Silver Spider,
A mirror for our altered face…
We live again,
And we are so very fair!
The moon has risen and swayed the crimson tide.
In her dazzling Darklight,
The dead live again!
All are bewitching in her glimmer.

Bound within the alabaster web, be free;
Dancing in formless flame…
Now, live!

Maddened where madness is joy,
Hold fast to this frail thread,
Until the last of moonlight’s veil has been shed.

O moon, faeries glory, ghosts, and ghouls,
Art thou a beateous beast?
And are we not better for midnight’s beauty still?
Better her dance of bedazzled death,
Her passionate throes,
Than stillness in the grave.

Dance, dance, dance, in patterns of her fantastical, vibrating, change,
These decaying rags made whole,
Risen in her fevered, flaming, Cimmerian shade.
All our senses wear her infinite bright shadow,
Our cloak, forevermore…

Beneath the skin of confusion,
Behold the bones of that which is true:

We awaken fully, into a frenzy of bestial desires.
Once creatures, trapped by the burning sphere of daylight,
We gnawed at our house of flesh.
Ravaged by Night’s Mistress,
Old as the black nothing that does not end…

All that was dead is not dead.

The spirit is an inferno.
The spirit is eternal.
The spirit is one spirit-The spirit of all spirits.
And that One holds the Fire of the Cosmos.

Breathe now,
And so shall the Cosmos breathe,
And of its own breath shall the Cosmos be made anew.

Beneath the skin of confusion,
Behold the bones of that which is true:

Merry New Year!
The Darkness is upon us!
Rejoice!
Blessed is this, our Evensong…
Happy Samhian!

~Julia DarkRose

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In Darkness

23 May

*Ninth re-posting of some of my favorite literary pieces. Thank you for your time and patience and understanding with me and my re-posts. Even though many have already experienced my symphony of utterance, again and again, many have not. I know, through decades of my writing, that my thoughts turned into the printed word, have helped many people, indeed, still does reach many and help them find themselves and their way on the often winding and treacherous road of life. :-)*

The Darkness of the universe
whispered into my soul,
It breathed it’s breath of life into me,
And said, I am coming, you must live…

Oh, and live, I shall…

In Darkness                                                   Ludavik~Vampire 3 Watermark

Happy our early days,
when we shined in our
dark angel-infancy,
before we understood this world.

Oh, my darling night!
There is in your children,
a deep and dazzling darklight!
Through all our fleshly desires
glittering streams of truth and everlastingness
reach our spirits,
our eyes enthrall at it, as at eternity.

We see every night,
the kindred moon,
every night we glimpse forever,
we see it like a great ring of a pure
and endless radiant eclipse.

In our darkness,
all is chaotically calm, as it is midnight bright;
And round beneath it,
time in hours, days, years,
driven by the universal spheres,
like a vast shadow moved;
In which the world
and all her beauty were hurled
into our ebon hearts.

We watch the others walking
on their air of false grace and glory,
whose light doth try to trample on our
precious nights.

Their days, which are at best
but dull and pointless,
filled with brightly lit decay.

My darling dark angels,
I cannot send you alone into
the world of false light,
whilst I sit here
basking in the glittering night,
without placing a bloody kiss
upon your dewy smooth cheek,
and a sword bathed
in the blood of false angels,
into your fearless hands.

Go my family, the Angels of the crimson moon
and do what we do best…

Hunt, devour, teach, bring change, give without ego,
and love with the fierce, unquenchable,
dark fire of our nighttime world,
of our universe.

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 compassion’s breath.
Our names are manifold,
Our name is Life.

~Julia DarkRose
©2013

Every Flower has it’s Secret

1 May

I am a rose that first bloomed in the very darkest hour of the night. This was my choice…to bloom or to die (literally). Since that moment I have bloomed with every breath that I breathe and shared my Darklight with all that need it and choose to understand it and embrace Her beauty and truth.

The Surprise of Being
©2013 By Julia DarkRose

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 inferior 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 to the celestial heavens:

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

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,

DarkRose Journal Cover ArtAnd she, the first rose,
remained ever vigilant and devoted to
her garden of nighttime blooming flowers.
~Julia DarkRose

Video

A Gathering of Angels

4 Aug

DRJ Issue 6-Image 4

A Gathering of Angels Preview Video of issue 6 of The DarkRose Journal:

Enjoy this sneak peek into Issue 6 of ‘The DarkRose Journal-ReVamped’…Thank you kindly.
~Julia DarkRose Ray

Blood of My Blood

13 Jun
Property of DarkRose Productions
Copyright 2014
By Julia DarkRose Ray
Drawing of Julia 2014-DB 2
Blood of My Blood

Oh how he loves my lips
when they are wet with his sex
and red with wicked desires.

Amongst all the regal beauties of the bowers,
my love, aches for only me.
So sticky sweet I am
he sucks the coital honey
from my dewy bowl,
and intoxicatingly mad,
with wild, delirious dark bliss,
within my unholy grail,
my perfect dark angel, yields, to me
his very soul,
and drinks in my bloody kiss.

I let down my silken tresses of blackest night
over my milky white shoulders
and open my creamy thighs over my beloved…

Oh beastliness! The raptures
of this night!
What fierce convulsions of
fiendish delights!
In each others arms embraced,
we lay confounded, and dissolved.
Hot bodies mingling, garnet juices blending,
darting fierce and flaming kisses,
Plunging into boundless hellfire bliss.
Our bodies, and our souls
engulfed in a crimson blaze.

Enslaved in his wolfish charms,
I crush my true love in my velvet arms
and make him destroy me…utterly.

He fire’s my blood with untold desires,
his kisses, razor sharp,
upon my lips and limb,
sends our senses reeling and pulses
swimming in the savage river of our sanguine abyss.

Oh darkest rhapsody,
cherished absolution,
sweetest-rapture past expressing!
We melt together in
perfected serenity,
breathing our soul into the other with each
midnight kiss.

Then suddenly, with a brutal, passionate,
enshrined caress,
we draw completely into one another,
flesh of flesh,
blood of blood,
one spirit.
Smoldering still with blasphemous hunger,
we sink into the shiny earth
our blood-soaked bodies aflame,
with a spell-binding happiness
of which we cannot name…
‘Twas pain, ‘Twas pleasure,
‘Twas infernally intense.

Swift rivulets of the dark fire have found
their way and bound our hearts.
We know not night nor day, nor life,
nor death, nor aught that foolish mortals know.
We only know that we love
each other so…

We sleep no more
from dusk to fiery dawn,
amongst roses dripping red
upon some muddy hill,
we wake often, from unearthly dreams
of ebon bliss,
to find our ruddy mouths all
melted in a kiss…

~JDR

Five O’Clock

1 Jun

Property of DarkRose Productions
Copyright 2014
By Julia DarkRose Ray

*An edited re-post of a recent prose of mine.*
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Five o’clock

It is five o’clock.
The fiery star begins his descent.
I think of all the hands
that are pulling down dingy shades
in a thousand, unremarkable furnished rooms,
bereft of any remarkable life.
I am aware of the damp souls of house maidens
waiting despondently at the door, smiling
and welcoming comfortable companions home,
while their passions flame is slowly extinguished.
Upon the glazen shelves of their abode,
are echos of their own life,
too many unrealized dreams,
written by ardent, burning souls.

My laughter tinkles among the teacups.
My laugh is like an irresponsible child.

Swaying now in the wind like a field of ripe corn,
I stand on the highest stair of her pavement,
lean on the garden urn-calling to her.
I weave, weave, weave,
the fading sunlight of the flameless maidens hair.
Oh my sweet night, she is but as simple and faithless
as a smile and a shake of the hand.

She knows only
A heap of broken images,
where the sun beats fierce and merciless,
And the dead tree gives no shelter,
the cricket no relief,
and the dry stone no sound of water.

There is shadow under the red rock,
I beckon to her, come in under the shadow of this stone,
and I will show you something different from either
your shadow at morning striding behind you
or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you your fear in a handful of dust.

Come with me, my sweet soul.
Or forever be a shape without form,
shade without color,
A paralyzed force,
gesture without motion.
Between the idea
and the reality,
between the pantomime
and the act
that falls to umbra.

I shall remember her,
as a child full of fear
and imagined grace,
I shall remember her,
if at all-
not as a lost violent soul,
but only
as a hollow husk.

And so,to her, in a sanguine whisper,
I utter,
terminate your torment
of love unsatisfied,
of life unfulfilled.
Where shall the truth be found,
where will the truth resound?
Not here, not in the false light of day,
there is not enough silence.

Come with me into the sable forest,
if you can bare the reality.
Our footfalls shall echo in the memory of life
down the passage which you were too scared to take
towards the door you have never opened,
into the night blooming garden,
that you have never seen.

Shall she follow me?
Shall she walk with me?

In my garden…
Garlic and sapphires in the mud
clot the bedded axle-tree.
The trilling wire in the blood
sings below inveterate scars
and reconciles forgotten wars.

At the still point of the beautiful night,
neither flesh nor fleshless.
Sudden in a shaft of moonlight
even while the dust still moves
there rises the hidden laughter
of children in the foliage,
the children of the Crimson Moon.
Quick now, here, always-
Dance! Laugh! Sing! Be the beast!

In my beginning,
in the Dark,
stretching before and after.
The time of the seasons
and the constellations.
The time of milking and the time of harvest.
The time of coupling of man and woman,
and of our beasts.
Feet rising and falling,
eating and drinking.
Dung and death.

In the beginning there was darkness.

It’s five O’clock,
the sun sets now.
We have risen.
We are the new light,
We are the Darklight.

And one last time I say to her,
Come, my sweet child,
for my ravings on this windy night,
shall never echo in your ears again.

It is five O’clock,
where do you want to be?
Who do you want to be?

The church bells ring…
It’s five O’clock.

~JDR

The Undoing

27 May
Property of DarkRose Productions
Copyright 2014
By Julia DarkRose
Julia 2014-Literary Artist
The Undoing

Oh, my undoing:
those pink articulate lips,
divinely flavoured portals to a mouth
where soul dissolves.
Eyes darting beneath raven brows, snares for the heart,
and the milk-white breasts, so lovely shaped,
the twin rosebuds, fair beyond all other flowers.

And there in the room, poor and squalid,
hidden above the dubious tavern,
moonlight filtering through the filthy and narrow window,
lying there on the much-used, lowly bed
I had the essence of love, wrapped in Goddess’ flesh.
I had the lips,
the voluptuous and rosy lips of ecstasy-
rosy lips of such ecstasy, that even now
as I write, after so many years,
in my solitary house of skin and bone,
I am drunk again.

My hunger, deprivation,
absence of her flesh.
My endless thirst for her,
for her damp porous centre,
the warm interior,
her sunflowers at night,
her breasts, belly, thighs
of the Goddess, of Cybele.

Her spring has run dry
I now reside in the land
of ashes and desert,
in a mirage of clouds and trees.

I thirst for her.
I am drunk again.
I am drunk with the absence of her.

~JDR

 

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