A Poetic Winter: A Soliloquy of Nothingness

Vrykolaka

I embrace the shadow,
Not the decaying fire of the sun
Sweet scent of Allium sativum, my bane
I sleep during day
And at night, drink my fill
Of your own bitter-sweet sustenance

My only fear is your holy relic
And your God is the source of all my dread

I am nosferatu, homo sapiens homovorus
I thirst as you hunger,
And I drink as you sleep

***

I have of late taken to writing poetry. It amuses me. Despite a marked lack of skill, a small part of me wants to compile a book of poetry divided up into four sections. One for each season in the vein of Jon Foreman's EPs. It should come as no surprise that 'Winter' is filling up faster than all the others. And in my defence, I'm loving this cold spell. The coldness, the wetness, the greyness... It is so me! It is not Winter just yet, but it may as well be.

Outside my window right now, all I can see... Besides my garden, that is... Is grey. Grey, almost white, clouds. It isn't raining just yet. I swear I'm not an emo. I swear I'm not a goth. I swear I've discussed this in a previous blog.

It all comes down to taste and preference. If I'd rather drink in the beauty of God's gorgeous winter than burn myself to a crisp in his utterly painful Summer, what is it to you? To be fair, I do like Summer. I like all the seasons. It's just that, I live in Australia. Australia has a 'Summer culture', and I'm not buying it. I guess all these Summery things are great in their own season, but don't complain when it's Winter! As a matter of fact, I think I'd like Summer a whole lot more if I could find a pair of sunglasses that actually look good on me...

I must apologize for this blog. It's really just a random rambling about nothing. But, like poetry, it amuses me. I'll leave you with a question, dear reader: Which is more enjoyable? A cold drink on a hot day, or a hot drink on a cold day? Ah, I think I win...?

***

Office For The Dead

“Dirige Domine Deus meus
In conspectu tuo viam meam.”

The quiet words are spoken,
Soft o’er your frozen grave
And yet, with strength they pierce
The frozen shell about my heart

Many memories flitter past
But I shrug them off in anger
A single sentence floats through
I know the truth, I’ve come to terms

“It was you, drunken fool.”
If I’d been sober, she’d still be alive

Rain, Rain, Go Away... No, Please Don't...

There is something depressing in those typically cold, windy, wet, grey, misty winter days that always lifts my spirits. Call me what you will; 'goth', 'emo', 'satanist', 'creep', or just 'screwed-up-in-the-head.' The fact still remains.

I think it is tied in somewhat strongly with that same morbid part of me that has to fight back a singularly dark sense of humour. The same part that chuckles at ironically morbid headlines but is ashamed to admit it. "Children find severed head on beach." Oh, tell me I'm not alone...?

Believe me, I'm not heartless. It's not funny that this woman was decapitated, and it's certainly not funny that these children had to look at such a gruesome artifact (I love children). What is... Well, not 'funny', but perhaps 'ironic', about the thing is this: The situation. A severed head in a bag on the beach. Isn't that kind of... It's not something I can explain, I'm afraid. Anyway, I digress.

I love the rain. I hate the sun. I hate the feeling of the sun biting into my back, clawing, scratching. The sun hurts. Summer is painful. Winter is not. Winter is beauty, majesty, frosty wonder - No beach crazy chicks tanning it up every other day during winter.

Winter is better than summer from a purely religious stand point as well. The considerably less scanty clothing on women during winter leaves a lot more to men's feeble imagination. More clothing = cheaper cost + less temptation for males. Therefor: less sins for God to forgive. Oh, that's immature. Perhaps I should focus more on the practical, rather than spiritual, benefits of winter as opposed to summer.

It's easier to warm up than it is to cool down. While in winter, you can 'rug up' to a perfectly comfortable level, in summer, it is effectively impossible for one to attain a practical level of coldness.

Did I mention I hate the beach? Well, that's not strictly correct, however when conversing in usual society, I find it's easier to say 'I hate the beach' than it is to say 'I hate the beach in summer, or when 'normal' people enjoy it. Give me winter, with rain, wind, and huge waves. I want the cold. Not some hot chick, who is completely butt-ugly, wearing the smallest bikini she can find. Winter is where it's at, I tell ya!'

You know, I love not being 'normal'. It's one of the things I love most in this crazy world.