Tag Archives: Sanguinarium

Twenty-one Years of Living Vampire History

31 May

While finishing packing up the last box of my 21+ years of the Vampire Community crap that I have accumulated and deciding what can be thrown away and what I feel absolutely needs to be preserved for the sake of our real history, not merely just someone’s perspective but factual hard evidence of what came before so that you are now able to have the relatively easy path that is now the V community…a path paved in blood, real and metaphorical…I came across this email from 2003. This is a letter from My good friend Ben M. I met Ben when I lived with the Kheperians in Ohio. Ben was once married to one of the founders of the House and it’s current owner/operator (for lack of a more PC term).

I am sharing this particular email for even though Ben is no longer a part of the V community, his insights into it were borne from his close relationships with those in The Kheperian House as well, as his intimate knowledge of the beginning of the creation of the Community. I believe that for those who actually care and truly want what’s best for all concerned, that you will find the contents of his letter worthwhile and be grateful for the chance to read an actual piece of the V community history.

His letter is about the Vampire path and his friends and loved ones that he has since parted from.

*Disclaimer-I have only mentioned the Kheprians as a timeline in history. I am in no way berating that particular House or any of its members.*

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I have re-typed it for easier reading.

Thank you kindly for your time.
~Julia DarkRose

Julia,
This is Ben. I haven’t heard from you in a while so I thought I’d drop you a quick note. I hope things are going well for you in your day to day life, and that you’re finding serenity.
That’s more or less why I’m writing. Among the people that walk that particular path that I have met, I respect you the most. I recognize that throughout your struggles you remain true to yourself. And it’s important to me that you’re happy. While I think that serenity is something that just about everyone we know in common could do a world of good for, I somehow believe that you are, in my opinion, deserving of it perhaps just a little bit more than some others.

As for me, I’m doing quite well. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m no longer working at that store in Brunswick, I was moved to another store, and a month later laid off.

I’d be lying if I were to say that it wasn’t a stressful time. Bur through perseverance, I’m quite proud to report that I was hired by another company within a week, and that the change has proven to be a significantly positive experience.

It’s been absolutely splendid. At the new company, people are thankfully just a little bit more bizarre. So. yeah, I’m doing well, and what seemed to be a complete disaster has actually been a significantly uplifting experience.

I still think about my former friends and loved ones of course. I sometimes imagine somehow being able to share what I’ve learned in the time that they and I have parted ways, maybe illuminate something about the possibilities that are out there and yet within regarding the changes that we can undergo and how much actual freedom that everyone possesses. But even after all this time, there’s still a lot of pride, and there’s still a lot of fear.

I think a great deal of the suffering that’s happening in that community has a lot to do with inertia. The sense that there is somehow some sort of significant journey or undertaking that is present, but yet the strong impetus doesn’t seem to actually desire to GO anyplace or DO anything. Defiance against an imagined threat, loyalty in the face of an alleged betrayal, these things splinter even the strongest minds and wills.

The imagination, a tool of freedom, essential for our means of visualizing and comprehending the things that cannot actually be perceived, has been harnessed for a redundant purpose. It’s been used to create a rigid unchanging hierarchy of place and means and it imprisons most of the known human race. Even those who would break away from this spiritual slavery of another kind.

So I worry. And sometimes I hope that time and experience continues to propel everyone forward to making new discoveries about themselves and the way they are choosing to live, both in a day to day life and there spiritual exploration of the darkness within and without., And other times I worry that those who really don’t want to grow in either or both aspects of living, guard their position, knowledge, charisma, and intellect very jealously, and continue to cycle in a permanent sort of hovering, desperately preserving their “place” against all indications that sometimes one needs to move onto new things, new aspects of the self, new possibilities.

Cattiness, minor betrayals, small differences of opinion inside a tightly wound insular community are ubiquitously exploded into the drama. This is nothing altogether new or even necessarily something to be all that ashamed of. It’s universal to every human in any insular religious or spiritual order that has existed on this planet. In this tight proximity, our weaknesses (be they great or small, many or few) create hurricanes. Our willingness to survive these sorts of things is perhaps the greatest test that any particular spiritual community can undergo.

I guess what I’m trying to do is perhaps shed some objectivity into the area of your particular struggle. Regardless of as desperate or self destructive that community that you are close to has become, I’m of the mind that you do possess the strength of chartacter and will to abide whatever outcome is final. Unlike most all the others, you have been proven, and while many others do not and perhaps never will appreciate the true signifigance of this, I haven’t forgotten it, and most importantly, you never will.

I’m sure that you’ll be able to remain strong in the face of this, and eventually, time will tell.

-ben

End Email

I believe that this particular email that was written to me from a very important person from within the making of the very beginning of the Vampire community, is important for those who care, to read, absorb and to truly understand it’s meaning, it’s value and it’s importance.

Thank you Ben M. Your words (which I know you do not mind that I have shared after all these years with the community of people of which you referred to) have never left me. I did not forget, nor will I ever.

~Julia DarkRose

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DarkRose Productions ReVamped

12 Jul

Hello Everyone!

DarkRose Blue Rose

Just a short announcement. Nothing to get your panties in a twist over (unless, of course, you want to get your panties in a twist), I promise.
I am deleting my original DarkRose Journal/DarkRose Productions website. It was, in a word, a mess. Said mess is completely all of my own doing.
Anyway, this is the new DarkRose Productions website. The address is temporary. I am having trouble transferring my domain name over to my new website. Until then, She can be viewed at this address.

Thank you kindly to all those who take a moment and go peruse Her new home. I have worked non stop for 2 days, not to apply any guilt or anything, LOL.

Again, thank you kindly.
~Julia DarkRose

 

 

 

 

 

The Real 7 Deadly Sins

17 Jun

My video is not perfect & it’s too long. However, I believe that it is worth unleashing your mind and giving it a go. Thank you kindly.

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 The unequivocal truth about the world we have created and inhabit.
I do not own the rights to the music or any of the images used in the making of this video unless otherwise specified.
©DarkRose Productions

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WO49iW-BbLk

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

 

Him

24 May
Property of DarkRose Productions
©Julia DarkRose 2014
(This is not about the singer Him.
‘Him’ is a metaphor for the erotic beauty that I find within the Darklight.)
Him Image
Him

What is this sound
and what this light,
bringing an end
to sleep and waking up my precious night?

Whence this music?
Whose this flame?
Who wakes my flesh and spirit
to life again?

Who is it knocks,
who would come in?
Oh, I know him still,
I know him well.
It is Darkness himself.
My Lord, my desire,
my blood lust, my passion,
my fire.

Let me prepare
my body most fair
for his dark desires
whose very nature is on fire.

Unbolt the door
for he is here:
Now I lead him forth
to greet his earth;
my bag of bones and my soul.

Now my flaming Sire doth enter
once again into his favorite earth’s chamber:
Liquid-red flames proclaim my crimson love,
like a blossoming rose, I wake beneath his fervor.
Strong his sanguine light shines in amorous fever
quick to win my ruby passion’s favor.
Fire to fire we cleave together,
kindling the darklight, conceiving the raw truth,
joined forever and forever,
though the false fire of day returns
and those who would try to destroy what they
cannot conceive, continue to try to put out our fire
of passions dark wine.

Here at our marriage
of blood and earth,
drink to us both,
drink to eternal health and youth.

Bride of darkness
and bridegroom of Blood
bound together,
bound to you too,
to one another
Forever.

We are the darklight.
We are the earth,
circles of red liquid fire,
circles of spirit and of flesh.
Night is our marriage,
night is our bed.
So in this night of nights
our flesh and spirit are wed.
Joined forever and forever
in the liquid darkness.

~JDR

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