Moms of Steel

Left in a berth not of her making, that found Cupid sad. Fate cast her in a tumult and unquiet role, where she would question her very soul.

Closer to her privateness she pulls the woolen scarf of those who came before. It has become her bower in times of perennial tears.

Long before Triton first blew his horn in the time of the old gods, women have been allotted this unique task. Armed solely with a silent lyre and told to bedight tiny angels left unnamed.

Her maddened brain is obscured by steel clouds, and carried by old wives. Yet she endures alone, and with a bewinged quietude, delivers once drunk children along destiny's cartroad to their glossy and red-litten success.

Left tangled in weeping vines, battling half witted men of primitive rank. Her voluptuous rage has left them rapt in tender hoverings. Forever seeking Virgil's counsel as offensive and simple minded paupers. While she with nimble toes, mellifluous sorrows, and ambrosia breath can call forth the divine armies.

Encumbered Souls

She enters as gently as a shadow upon the breath of God. But her undertow is harsh like an indignant empurpled hound.

To the world she exhibits her sovereign diadem as soft, ashen clouds post storm. But alone with her lovers she is a ghoul - haunted turret waiting to cumber their souls with her pettish tears.

She will never have to wrestle her future demons. For so many with the faith of northern brothers will from ebon ramparts, fight with blue and black thunder. She forever slumbers in her mansion of deception as those that love her lay dying in a shack.      

- Johnny V.

Sweetness

Although we were but two ships on a moonlit sail, her power over me is an aeonian flame. I claw and scrape at the speckled grey flesh, but to no gain, for it is her memory that torments my very being.

She has a sweetness which is both timeless and tantalizing, but gnaws the very whiteness of my smile. As vermin to rotting flesh. She will never allow me to stray far from her strength for her desires are gravid.
                                       
She understands she can live beyond her safety, for many blind to her danger will pacify her time and again.  She never need fear retaliation for an embattled soul hasn't the strength to pronounce sentence.

Knowing that she holds a past darker than the far end of the moon. Their love forever her's, and their empty tomb unwilling to seek a new passenger. So hence they remain a hollow vessel,  broken and damaged, for all who later may seek satisfaction.

-Johnny V.

God's Blind Spot

I huddle quietly in God's blind spot. Hoping to avoid his gaze. But he knows of my heartache, despite his refusal.       

I see my funeral pall unfurled and crisp. I become gorged on religious gloom, and send my sour prayers to a god dimissive of my endless pain.

My soul unloved, and rejected,  smiles and reeks of old lovers.

She bathed in mockery and a grey silence, laughs at my false heart. She is as the silk girl bringing gold, both beloved and bitter.

Long before the mighty squires of Athens fell, she was wise with a saber. Now her path littered with the faces of the nameless, and godless.

But I still fortune's fool, entombed and tottered in guilt, stand inside of Hell and stroke the ring of Lucifer.

-Johnny V.

Vivian's Voice

Her beauty rivals even Venus in her glory.
Her sublime and bediamond smile has often rendered gods mute.

The silence remains unbroken as sainted maidens keep watch over the slumbering rose.
Not a single murmur is captured, for quiet even are the wontonest birds.

The river lords of long ago speak fondly of her stubborn soul.
Her once folded wings, once ill-formed and pacified. Now, spirited and unyielding, are patulous toward the noontide.

She is enjeweled in shadowy sounds, as she sails the tumultuous sea.

-Johnny V.

Trust

I carry what's left of my dignity in my pocket like lost coins. For she has spent more than my minor trust could hold.

She treads clumsily across the dried hearts of previous lovers. Her walk remains undisturbed for her skill is   unequaled.

The boulevards are littered with those desperste for her wine flavored glance. Even when they understand it encludes drunken despair. For the wretch is too delicious to feed their empty hunger.

From above the sky changes her hue and rolls to sleep and exposes her darker sister. The doomed lovers with their teardashed eyes, empty,  and turned earthward, slowly gather the lost remains of forgotten tomorrows.

-Johnny V.

One Elect

I stand on the precipice no more steps to take. Directionless, and unclear, as a squire with no knight to serve, as a Lord in a bedazzled kirtle, and no maiden to entertain.

Her bastions of heavy booted, and overinduldged, phantoms of the dark, cross the rude bridge with but one task, my end. But I have too long been paralyzed, and will no longer knee at her altar of false desires.

She is an artificer, of deceit and can daily dun her followers until their purses are empty as the seventh daughter of the Atlas. Her melodious disdain for her lovers will forever be their Achilles heel.

They as I left with but one elect, death or endless torment. I refuse to return to her bed, where love grows spector thin and dies. Instead I bound into the abyss marking my birth not with a gentle splash but with a song.

-Johnny V.

Adios

Farewell
my sweet
delicate muse. Gently may you
pass thru
the guilded threshold of
devotion.

While sunk in awe
the old priest
charms the
chalice of depravity.
And l,
jostled
unkind
and seethed in damp solitude.

Forced
beyond
the true
vertical to renounce
the duty saddled
harp
of the homebound
sailor.

She
can grace
those
forced to shame
their wit
with muteness.
My heart
torn
just a sliver
to the
aged
requiem
as we drown
inside the
river of
hinterland.

-Johnny V.

Havoc Unleashed

Remain steadfast/ upon/ the wind/swept cliffs.
Raise high/ your/ coiled fist/ to his rage/ fear not his anger.
Despite his power/ You forever remain/ his single/ prideful creation.
He will compel/ his unwavering angels to bow/ before thee.
Let loose/of your embattled/ courage.

He is/ forever /a content/ and forgiving God. Be you / saint / or sinner /so surrender.
Allow /even your / separation /from his scented rose /as you kiss /the colored cup /of romance.

We /spend but an instant /speaking to the midnight sun /caressing /the delicate /morning blossoms. Therefore /drink greedily /the wine of life. Turn your back /toward the bruised /dark abyss. And /unleash havoc /upon the train station /of deceit.

-Johnny V.

Carmen's Eyes

Whence the midnight stars have lost their summer burn and are but feigning, turn they to Carmen's eyes.

She dances in the square, her brocade muslin captures the strength of all in her space. Her delightful toes do but lightly caress the ground as she floats upon the air.

Whence the snow laid peaks crave the long forgotten summer sun to touch their frozen souls, turn they to Carmen's eyes.

Her breathe can at once forgive a demon's curse. With a gentle smile all is banished but the warmest breeze. Her heart abundant and forgiving can bring serenity to all who witness.

Blessed be he who she holds to her breast for tis he and he alone who will be forever content in the quietness of her spirit.

-Johnny V.