Sanguine Bile, Troll and Boy
Original poster
Here's a wee showcase from a showcase, with a few new things. I seem to be getting better at this. Seem to. Maybe I'm not.

I - The Road
The Road
A Dream
Portraits and Phantoms
The Wandering Dream to the Waking Man
In the Sand

II - The City
Browsing through the Blue
Vision of the Future

III - The Heavenly City
House of Cards
The Concert
Seasons and Spirits
Song of Death

IV - Wisdom
Song of Life
Last edited:


Sanguine Bile, Troll and Boy
Original poster
I - The Road


The Road knows no bounds --
It courses through the City then
flies through the field, into the woods
that wax and wane, until
there are no more bees to craft the combs
and again, plains, City lights,
and another round of running.


Cities standing
on the scalps of giants, still,
dreaming. I wonder:
when will they scratch their heads,
pick the nits?


Who is it? Who's knocking on my door?
Heartbreaking rhythm going floor to floor,
spreading like my bleed, oh, that crimson tide:
another hard hello to bide.

Black and white, chamber seething musk:
its foundation, cheerless dusk.
See how it sleeps, the emperor beast,
lying in his sensual feast.

Who is it? Who's interrupting me?
But your rainbow fingers are electric glee:
oh, how they make me too clearly see
the subtlest signs of self-willed sin.

Needles, hundreds of metal pricks:
ooh, your mouth's my dirty fix!
Sting me, bind me, wrap around me--
Prometheus, give me your gin!

Who is it? Who's embracing my form?
Heaven's gift, a Holy water storm,
all these implosions, messing with my ride:
another sweet goodbye to bide?

Orbs of glass, shoot the smoking gun:
come on, my dear, we have to run!
But here it comes: an ungodly flash,
and we are swayed into ash.


Through roads paved with the corpses of friends,
we left the black wilderness behind
for a little township rising by
the river Lethe, the river of oblivion.
Here we are. I remember,
on this long journey,
you were the stone on which my flames of passion bloomed,
guarding my olive-halls from the hot hands
of my temper, my lust.
Steady companion, you always scouted
down three-headed roads and returned
with a map and a lamp in hand,
and, when the victories of the road came upon us,
you twined your tender voice around my paeans
in perfect harmony.

But you can share my load no longer
and all your dreaming days are done.
You miss your waking home's beloved light,
where your eyes shine brighter than the stars
and your tender frame is ever cradled
warmly by the rosy hands of dawn.
And my two feet can never stop:
my soles are full of holes, never-healing ulcers
carved by the gadfly's knife,
and filled by the hands of greedy time
with the sharp stones along the river's banks.
Their only cure, a gift of nectar and ambrosia
found far in the east, on the other side of the world,
beyond exotic lands of men, beyond the coasts,
beyond even the beard
of the old man of the sea.

So now, I leave you waiting
at the township's docks,
waiting for a well-tarred ship of horn
adorned with flowers,
with asphodels and poppies
and hyacinths and adonis,
flowers of love and death.
I give you four golden gifts
for the long journey ahead:
four tender kisses firmly planted
on your lips, flowing through your mouth,
your tongue, your throat, to your
heart. May they sustain you.

And now, the grey ship arrives.
I can hear its brazen bells
ring to the songs of the seagulls
circling round its silken sail.
The time for you to pass away
and the time for me to be forgotten
comes. Goodbye, friend.


To move forward --
right in front, left behind
left in front, right behind
-- is to be Apart
Last edited:


Sanguine Bile, Troll and Boy
Original poster
II - The City


We'll drift down streets
of cold, corrupted stone
when all old loves are dead,
and new loves leave the birthing beds.


Someday, my wall
will be filled not with baby butt-faces
or future models striking poses
but with sickness.

Someday, my wall
will be filled not with pictures of yummy caek
or memetically calculated heartache
but with sorrow.

Someday, my wall
will be filled not with doodled-out distraction
or silly slogans for inspiration
but with silence.

Someday, my wall
will be filled not with the stench of a wild night
or empty promises of morning light
but with sleep.


A column of light
broken by streaks of blackness
each interrupting
band a disappointment,
a disease,
a death in the family--
traces of lead, silver, cinnabar--
with the whole being
just a perfect circle's arc
pressed and stretched
into this pillar
for the viewer's convenience.

Not even
the subtlest implication
of the circle must exist --
light is a line, not a wheel,
and the dutiful scientist
asks no questions.
Today must become yesterday, as
tomorrow becomes today,
and the dates on the calendar transform
into memories, stories
warped for the message,
marks on the line graph.

And our tests return
no statistically relevant results.
Try again,
if you can.


What sweat!
My flesh melts.
My fat crackles.
My blood boils.
Smoke rises --
the flame consumes the wick, and I
am rendered bald! dumb, then,
at last, hollow
in the dark.


I am the leaves of fall.
I am the corn after harvest.
I am the ash of the harvest.
I am the chaff in the wind.

I am the bite of the wind.
I am the snows of winter.
I am the waters of winter.
I am the sinking earth.

I am the unwelcome earth.
I am the stubborn seed.
I am the rejected seed.
I am the whispers of lust.

I am the children of lust.
I am the flames of the forest.
I am your hope in the forest.
I am the coming of fall.


Sanguine Bile, Troll and Boy
Original poster
III - The Heavenly City


Empty pockets and empty tables,
what a night. On the mantle to your right,
a deck of cards, covered in shadow: what,
too lazy to light a fire? It's wintertime,
you'll freeze to death.

I told you, your houses lead nowhere:
you know what cards are made for.
You gotta invite your friends,
call them to your table,
earn some debts then place your bets
and play--
then you'll start talking sense!


The spotlights on the stage
are burning blue on blue.
Their eyes are set afire in this light.
My hand is loose –
the cold air stings me.

The spotlights on the stage
are glowing green and gold.
Their flaming eyes are smothered by the dark.
I squeeze your hand –
my hot sweat stings me.


I can feel the heat of summer swinging
with your every humid whisper.
Writhing on your radiant temples
are my fingers, greedy wine-stained serpents.

Smells of freshly-drafted cider
ripple from your noble dimples.
Bothering spirits blue with autumn's bite
follow this scent to steal our love away.

Blossoming flames and heady beer
refill your shriveled bosom with hot blood.
The fearless rhythm of our winter love
conquers the silver blind beyond.

Flowers are blooming on your skin again:
your vernal musk, your honey's wax, returns.
A glen of cherry cordial lies
dreaming sweetly in our cellar.


month of May --
the fool buys latex
for flowers

bottle of wine
and soul from the radio --
a pear tree blooms

tyrian sky --
the briny fisherman
hauls his catch

two sea waves
break each other --
a perfect love


So, the world is round!
It has its ups and downs--
A water-wheel
Guided by the Miller and His Son,
Begotten One.

Round and round the circle goes
With the river's flow,
And how the gears and axles spin,
Guide the milling stone
Grinding corn.

Soon, the spokes break down,
As mold and age corrupt the round--
A brief command!
So arrives the Son
To pull us out.

Then, to each, a place is given:
Either the oven
To cook the family's meal of bread
Or the central hearth
To give them warmth.


Sanguine Bile, Troll and Boy
Original poster
IV - Wisdom


1 - The Comet
In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth: as his spirit hovered over the face of the waters, he said, "Let there be light!" and there was light. And all the rest of the world followed out of the void, like the tail of a comet chasing after a star.

2 - The Creation
And from the waters and the earth God created man, forming him with his own hands, in his own image: and he breathed in him the breath of life, and he blessed him with the garden of paradise, and he gave him his word. Then, the LORD God made three women.

The first was formed by the word of God from the light, and she was the true companion of man: her name was Desire. But Adam saw her creation in his waking, and he found disgust in her flesh, and disease in her blood, and destruction in her bones, and he scorned her. And she left the garden in despair, finding refuge in the dreams of man: she remained a virgin, with perfect youth and beauty.

The second was formed by the word of God from every inch of flesh and blood and bone of Adam as he slept, and her name was Lilith. She saw herself as the true equal of man, but God knew that she could not cover him to receive his seed, so he exiled her from the garden. And she became the mother of the Lilin, the demons of the night.

The third was formed by the hands of God from the rib of Adam as he slept, and she was named Eve. And man and woman left the garden together, after they ate of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil: and man and woman died toiling, as they became bearers of wisdom.

3 - Night
The air is always flat this time of night,
flat and cold and quiet, like the lake outside
in wintertime. I slow my breathing down:
I don't want to break the ice.

When I go to bed, I never shut my light,
a sun lamp. Why does no one let me walk outside?
There, the twisted trunks of oak never shift,
unlike the shadows of my bed.

Like the shadows of my bed, the wilderness at night
is home to demons fanged and clawed. But outside,
at least, the horrors are familiar, real and steady
in their motives, while my bed-sheets
shelter only water.

I've been swallowed whole before. I remember light,
cold moonlight, crashing through the winter ice outside,
filling my lungs, choking me, washing away my steady,
never-failing faith. Then I was pulled up
by the rooster's crow.

4 - Morning Light
Crowned bird, crow! Call forth the sun!
And sceptered moon, sweet silver moon,
see the world waking? Your time to rest!
Return home to your chamber in the ocean:
light a fire, enjoy your dinner,

and don't forget to feed your fish,
leviathan and your fellow stars.
Then, when your brother rises high,
sleep, moon! Let him rule. How the waking world
waits for the music of your dreams--

The waking world, the sensual world:
where is the winter? where is the night?
In this golden light, I am free
to walk, to sail, to fly through this garden,
and feel for the face of spring.

5 - Wandering Dreams
Under the shade of the old oak tree,
we were gathering flowers, you and I,
hyacinths blood-red and the marble lotus,
when we were made one. And the serpent,

whose eyes dreamed of ocean, filled our throats with song:
but our tears were true -- our tears, clear and formless,
altering no earthly colors -- and our love was pure --
our love, the drifting scent, the passive cry,

the questions and answers united, mounting high
over hill and mountain. But our mother
still burned white-hot with anger, when she saw
our pale and perfect bodies breeched with wine

and shards of glass: with blood-red petals, leaves of grass.
Foolish wrath: were we not freed to love?
Foolish children: so we were, but with time
comes movement: summer, autumn, and the cold again.

Even before death, there was already thirst:
where we went for peace, far from the prying eyes
of the beasts and the beetles, behemoth's song
found its purpose. In the quiet heart of the garden

stood alone the pomegranate tree,
bending low with its fruit. And as the leaves fell
and the summer wept, its blood-red seeds were sown
deep into your flesh, then watered with ocean.

6 - Afternoon Rain
"Whispering wind, listening wind,
what could compare to the loss of my love?"
"The loss of a son", he says. "Your mother
burned with an even hotter fever,
when you left." And an eagle flies overhead.

Dewdrops fall from the clouds,
and father's eyes twinkle like the stars--
they are the stars. But for whom does he weep,
I wonder? Meanwhile, the sparrow's song
grows soft, as the gold turns to ash.

And from a whisper to a whirlwind,
from a drizzle to a rainstorm, he continues:
"With this grief, we could be doves again.
We are destroyed by love, like the flower
bearing fruit. Now listen to our songs!"

7 - The Judge
When man lost his arm, his father was reborn,
his father the wise and watchful god,
and when his father rejoined the heavens, the instrument returned,
fully formed: from the blood-red seed of the pomegranate tree
to the trunk of the tree of life,
the old oak tree.

There are no questions to be asked;
there are no answers to be given.
Death flies at the face of life,
as the body returns to the waters and the earth,
feeding the fish, the fowl, the flowers,
the trees, the beetles, the serpents--
and the spirit flies over the face of the waters,
returning to God the breath of life,
as the soul is lost unto the hands of the multitude...

Only comfort. Man lost his arm three times.
On the first, he lost his way,
but he found his freedom.
On the second, he lost his home,
but he received his love.
On the third, he lost his life,
but he bore the multitude...

Be still: here she comes,
walking down the milky way.

8 - The Prophet
Today, my navel outshines me,
for today, it is a dying star
huffing its desperate last breath.

The immense pressure of gravity's hands
ever squeezing its fiery core
at last compounds its every facet
into a heavy hole in time.

Its shell of gas and light erupts
into a splendid rainbow of dust,
of carbon and oxygen, iron and nitrogen,
of water, earth, wind, and flame,
of all the material elements.

And this great cloud of stardust scatters
beyond the world of my humble body,
beyond the womb of mother earth,
beyond the weirs across the heavens
to create a brilliant legacy for their father
by calling forth the comet.

9 - The Waters of Death
And the Word of God released the waters above and the waters below. For many days and many nights the windows of the heavens were opened, and the fountains of the earth overflowed: and the waters of death mingled with the waters of life. And the waters swelled and swelled, so that all the surface of the earth was covered, even the tops of the mountains, and all the spaces of the heavens were flooded, even the seats of the stars, and all the beasts of the earth were drowned, even the fish and the fowl: and the bodies of all living things floated on the face of the waters, then blackened and bloated with rot, then sank again into the seas, and upon the wet earth, and even unto the waters beneath the earth: and all the world was rendered formless and void...