BlackHearted Poetry
What is this Power within me,
this green and golden sap,
this starlight and this blackness
by which I am fused to Earth?
To Greenness and to Beauty,
to Life and Death in one,
to roots in every world
and paths that I must roam,
to song that I must sing
and stars I make my own?
I call it Feri.
-Ginevra
Poets of Truth & Sex
(The Poets of Truth and Sex is the public face of the local BlackHeart Feri Coven. We occassionally offer public ritual. This is actually a chant which was spontaneously co-written by Alley, Amy, Jennifer and Karina)
We are forgers of Passion's heat
Healers of Self defeat
Warriors of Wisdom's way
Workin' old magic in a new way
Fur and Scale
Tooth and Bone
Feather and Skull
Talon and Stone
We are Proud. Bodies of ecstasy.
Bearers of Liberty
Poets of truth and Sex
Runnin' a Power Love connects
Fur and Scale
Tooth and Bone
Feather and Skull
Talon and Stone
We are keepers of sacred Law
Pleasure without the fall
Center. Above. Below
Sharing the Beauty of what we Know
Black Heart
Beautiful queer black heart beating within
reaching out to equally wierd otherkin
stirring desire and longing
exquisite pain and strange sex
Malek Taus, Malek Taus, bright eye
of color and darkness
fiery flame of lust
burning heart
onslaught of realizations
bending not breaking
growing taller
brighter
stronger
Godself
-Swansister
I am unique.
There is no one else exactly like me.
And yet I am One with the whole of Nature.
I have the right to be what I am,
My essential self is divine and beautiful.
-Rissa
AFTERNOON IN THE ATTIC
This is not a frenzied piece inspired by a fleeting muse
whose presence demands immediate attention before she flits away
but a piece created from that place hidden deep in the soul
that speaks of worn time and lingering perfume
Subtle, soft and flowing
with long strokes and smudged edges
that brush the consciousness with tender kisses
and an invitation to get lost in color
I see a place where the sun highlights the dust as it brushes
past your face
and lands on your clothes
and you know that you are touching a memory
Vintage dresses hang in an open wardrobe
and hat boxes brimming with ribbons
trickle their rainbows down the sides
hiding cracks the weatherworn wood
A drowsy hobby horse rests nearby
it's nose now smooth
from countless hands praising the faithful friend
for yet another wonderful afternoon
Trunks fill corners and crevasses
occasionally allowing a glimpse of the treasures held within
and the ghosts that cherish them
Across from the wardrobe
a mirror
cracked and powdered with time
reflects the Maiden dancing in her Grandmother's dress and her Mother's
favorite shoes
Her arms outstretched as she twirls to admire herself from every angle
and drifts away on wafts of reminiscence.
Will you follow?
-Gisela
INVISIBLE STRINGS
floating listlessly on billowy dreams
motion sinuous, melodious, inspired
and all the while humanity intrudes into the most secret places of the soul
ripping at the core of my legacy and demanding restitution
rainbows from nonchalant fingertips
color rooms in pastel swirls and polka-dotted fairies
languid lackadaisical spirals of thought and cadence
surrounding fabric, flesh and ugly wallpaper
sumptuous inner monologues
each word rolling off the mind like warm, thick, chocolate
satisfying each desire while igniting the sacred flame
indemnification found in antithetical synchronicity
-Gisela
BEING GENTLE
exhaustion is that moment when you just can't
when you just can't cry
and you just can't talk
and no matter how badly
you can't even walk
it's not giving up
and it's not giving in
it's being gentle with yourself
during the fight you can't win
there are more fights to be had
and more battles to wage
exhaustion is nothing
but burning out rage
rage against ghosties
and wee student beasties
rage against goblins
that stir up yer feces
life isn't just battles
and isn't just war
exhaustion is fleeting
living is more
it's bathtime and bedtime
and teddies in hand
it's holding yer shadow
and knowing you can
it's believing you matter
that you have a voice
and now how you use it
is your right and your choice
it's loving and snerking
and sharing yer dreams
it's laughing til when
yer gonna bust at the seams
it's getting a hug
and it's getting a kiss
it's having a moment
and finding yer bliss
rain has to come
for the rainbow to follow
exhaustion is felt
always leaving you hollow
the war now is over
out comes the sun
giving light, warmth and hope
and you know that you've won
-Gisela
FERI IS......
The tip of the wolf's fang
beautiful, simple, and dangerous.
It is spiders weaving with sharp intention,
the threads of consciousness
becoming the fabric that binds our worlds
in a symphony of light and shadow.
It is standing naked in a hurricane and laughing.
-Eric O
ghost
i met with the ghost of the old new york city
and invited him out for a warm cup of tea
he tugged at my heartstrings and captured my pity
through stories of bygones and psychic debris
he said, “i've been slowly fading for hundreds of years now
as these once fledgling boroughs have burst at the seams
i mourn at the crossroads where gritty turns highbrow
and long for the city that birthed from my dreams”
-Alley
Just beyond the corners of
Reality
A wild drum beats
At our fingertips
The power to control power
Our words
Create worlds
A lick off the spoon of
Joy
A shudder from the ecstatic
Mother
A seductive hiss
A heated kiss
The snarl and purr
In the space between
Time and stars
We claim our right to
Slide off the edge
Into Bliss
-Amy
we laugh at their danger
and try to use their chopsticks
consequential stoicism
coincidental narcissism
blatant occidentalism
obligatory skepticism
authentic
florida
dream
homes
we laugh at their palm trees
and try to use their lawn mowers
unintentional consequences
uninvited coincidences
accidental circumstances
proprietary residences
hurry
limited
time
offer
we laugh at their penal codes
and try to use their resources
incidental arrogance
reverential ignorance
intentional coincidence
obligatory consequence
only
four
easy
payments
we laugh at their attitudes
and try to use their backwoods tools
unexpected revelations
unintended situations
realistic expectations
obvious capitulations
free
offer
with
purchase
we laugh at their limitations
and try to use their forms and grids
neurotic decision
hypnotic precision
psychotic revision
quixotic provision
call
us
toll
free
we laugh at their commercials
and try to use their ad techniques
artistically aspherical
linguistically empirical
reliably satirical
additionally lyrical
dont
wait
act
now
-Alley
The mystery that is you
gets played out in low light
and hard, fast, deep, pulsing
ancient modern rhythms
There for no one but yourself
yet everyone sees
and pretends to know
but they don't .... do they?
The smile that plays your lips
as hair and sweat plaster your face
accentuating every curve and hollow
revealing nothing
Except to those who are paying attention ...
-Gisela
Passion makes itself known
in one way or another
channeled healthily
it inspires
repressed
it kills
-Gisela
The Other Side of Light
In my soul
Where the wild things grow
There is a place that's dark and dim
Through dust like snow
The shadows know
The contour of the grim
Black as night
Within his sight
I hear him in the din
The rumble deep
Where foul things sleep
As he comes prowling in
And what he shows
pray no one knows
Except for me and him
-Gisela
naked trees and falling leaves
the howling of the wind
church bells ring and children sing
calling all who've sinned
Stepping carefully through
Graves on hollowed ground
See now the full, bright moon
Listen to stillness all round
darkened skies and raven cries
the night owl takes to flight
from silent wing the faerie ring
illuminates the night
sacred trees surround the grove
where kindred spirits play
truer words were never sung
in the harshness of the day
moths are flitting round the flame
and wine doth pour the ground
no one dare escape the snare
of this enchanted sound
Take care amongst the faerie folk
Lest you find yourself alone
Trapped for a thousand years
Beneath the ancient stones
Sweet the speak where dark things creep
and angels fear to tread
promises make and promises break
inside the servant's head
-Co-written by Gisela and Amy
Temptation
This temptation is a gravity
that pulls me to you
knocking all obstacles
for I want to make love to your divine winds
penetrate the sky and land with my rivers of lust
in bliss, drinking thirsty from your blood
of your delicious living skin that fills my lungs
like all people as human I am driven to temptation
so that I may fall in you in passion and sex
so my will may disappear in your power and thrust
making love to the voids of space
my soul will do your work, forever, possessed,
taken
-Boris
Scrubbed down your doorway with cinnamon and salt
in the hidden light of the waning moon
Beat all the corners of the house with a broom,
swept up all the dirt real good,
scooped up years of dust with my fingers
+ wiped down all the surfaces
til they gleamed, sandalwood and bleach.
The wind blew in from between two rivers
I swept you right out the door.
I blessed my house with my hands + breath
weeks of prayer + shining floors.
Sprinkled rum in all the corners of these shared rooms,
paschal doorjambs and banishing pentacles on the front door
Sprinkled rum in blessing and in thanks.
-Oli
smell of god
The smell of god is early fall’s swamp rise of
cold creeks pushing past marsh grass growing up against
a horizon of azure
in your bones
the calcite expands, the milkgrass crushes into mucous
and her bright blood runs crescent-like,
coursing along the circuitry of the stars +
you can smell it in your bones.
-Oli
kala
Breathing the iron ore tight bunches out of my spine
the crunch of vertebrae
into the cool perfect cup of an egg
the house is empty, or
empty shadows flicker in the corners where
nobody’s dusted, lift their shoes + left
the yolk hangs in a membrane-thick orb
nestled tight against the shell, cozy in its bowl
a tight lick of space where the smooth white wall lifts its lip
to tuck it in.
My nerves bunch, breath can’t travel up my back
the knots pop with the ill quiet light of carpet, ceiling tiles
and always those overhead lights
They blaze quiet tension into the wrap of my ribs
bug bites up my elbows + knucklebones.
Too much salt in the hollow hilt of my throat,
roof of my mouth caked with names
stale cigarettes and lemon juice
it aches + aches + aches, a toothache between my shoulder blades
blown into the clean mucous of the palm-curved shell.
Bay leaves and sea salt steep in the bath,
tap water thundering into the unscrubbed tub.
The egg rests, white and still.
-Oli
