Her Respect

Secure your terrors to the lonesome mast, step bravely into the promise of the future. Allow the most pearlescent star to forever be your guide. Once the sea calls, only a frightened few will have the strength to deny her what she desires.

Stand and face her vastness, knowing the countless victims that came before still imprisoned beneath her calm blue belly. Make the deck your rampart, and face her head on, for earning nature's respect is a treat for the very few.

Evoke and curse her winds and waves that thunder against your eager vessel. Keep your heart true for within the bosom of God we are all saved.  Beware for the sea, that beguiling and naive slut will drag many to her ultimate greed.

-Johnny V.

Conclave of the Gods

Do not be horror-struck to gaze into Lucifer's eyes. For he too a sinner, and as the serpent looked heavenward with shame with a mouthful of Eve's bitter fruit.

In the gentle and fond hands of God we are all one. Saint, forgiven each besmirch, and sinner wiped clean. Face the storm head on, for we are only brief passengers riding a phaeton chariot on this pale rock. Once departed our memory fades, our mark under a thinner veil.

Stand strong with righteous zeal and shun the path of the despondent bearded son, and revel in the conclave of the gods. Hold fast to the breath given you, be content as the robe-maker in his kingdom rather the king of the simple minds.        

-Johnny V.

Night's Mist

The morning dew conquers the night mist, my avendaged and broken siern peirces my hope, I call out yet my protective angel is distant and obscure.   

I am left to her fickle whims and mocking laughter. I conferred my naked and inpassionated soul unto the sacrosanct of her april scented bossom, but her release of me left it inbittered and lost.   

I handed her my heart fueled with the courage of 1000 martyrs, but reclaimed it dry as the desert sand on an August day.

I have overcome my wound although it is deep it no longer holds any power over me. Where she is to this day I know not, I worry not.

But as the morning wind brushes the trees I hear anguish. Alas, she has attended to the fools lined at her threshold. Those naifs awaiting a mere glimpse, of her deep soft emerald eyes.  

-Johnny V.

The Harpy's way

My heart is thronged with contradictory decorations, and allowed only second-hand emotions. She has left me inter-wreathed with brimstone and unmet desires.

Sitting upon a black-velvet cathedra she calls me from the lattice windows. Her compulsions are chief and demand attention. Grasping at my neck cloth she tightens her sinewy grip. My disadvantaged heart is forever padlocked to her and her kinsmen.

My work, she claims is incomplete, I must she says, entertain her Hell-born, savage obligations without hope of reward. For within her ungentle suburb, Midas holds fast to his coinage.

I am to be her caddy, her ploughman as she tends to her faithful and eager whores each awaiting her pansophy. Although she often speaks as a fresh trumpet from the precipice of a moral high ground, her slight and bifurcate tongue will indeed sour the truth.

-Johnny V.