There's a dust that blankets the back of minds,those unopened thoughts from some long passed timewhich blurs our current emotions and thengoes on to make us wish for times again,and the dust that covers those behind whensmakes all my future look as if it weresome warm cold far off haze with uncertainchances of ever reaching… Continue reading Blankets of Dust
Author: Deerwolfa
Marine Poem
We are the mariners of our own home,those who set out to travel God’svirgin lands as well as those modern sprawlswhich were founded by classical hands.We set out in the oceans, skies to roamthose ideals which all our parents saidwere out of reach for humans—ever—said.And all our parents’ minds and bodies were dams,which held their… Continue reading Marine Poem
Response to Hamlet
Oh, as we lie here in this small room,I can’t help making my mind wander to,and fro, and bouncing all across the room we lay in now,but even so my only thought can be of how,when in my restless distress we would cometogether once to perform acts of bonded love,and before we e’er met with… Continue reading Response to Hamlet
Azrael
There the angel Azrael was standing on the sceneafter the flames of the two forces metand caused the knell of many thousand men,leaving all their corpses there obscene.The King had drove his self into the heartsof mortal men and women as if art,and cast away the sense of hope for loss,and prayed to evil gods.That… Continue reading Azrael
Ayalon
Oh, how I long for your lands, Ayalon,with your long, open fields, and your deep forests, wide,and your deep lakes and hills from which no man has drawn,and your mountains so high they might kiss the crisp sky.There—nothing is suffering—like Eden,and the ancient wisdoms, here and gone, are constant.The Divine light is everything there without… Continue reading Ayalon
A Snowy Tomb
Softly, the winter snow shows Elysium,a reflection from above, below,inside this vessel, a sacrarium,this gently sleepy and holy home.The slow smoke from the chimneyrises without a breeze rifting it.The warm light upon the snowyfloor alone warms my visage.The threshold to this humble houseis cracked, bowed, and warped shyly.The only visitors it's ever allowedwere the lord… Continue reading A Snowy Tomb
For de-trans awareness day: two Poems, one old, and one new.
For de-trans awareness day I felt like it would be nice to visit an older poem I wrote. I have changed plenty from even two years ago—having only just been confirmed into the Catholic church after writing the second poem, I have grown in my understanding of theology and religion with the help of my… Continue reading For de-trans awareness day: two Poems, one old, and one new.
Monday, August 10—2:43pm, AD 1616
Monday, August 10—2:43pm, AD 1616 Port side bow I saw the thing retching inside a damned being. Stirring my fiery drunken soul, down into the sea it goes, and when it illudes to surface again it comes singing—loud as a wren. Shoot the spears, but nothing connects, and question my aim be correct. Sounding loud,… Continue reading Monday, August 10—2:43pm, AD 1616
Why I’m really bad at keeping up this blog
I honestly forgot about it Updates are on their way though. Currently I am working on a series of musical compositions, and I have several short essays and stories which I have yet to post. I am not dead.
Brutalism—Wotruba’s Church.
A friend of mine today was lambasting a certain church for its esthetic, however, when looking at things from a radically traditionalist point of view, you tend to ignore the nuance and vision of the people who build things in the modern era—which can lead to ignorance and a willing veil that can restrict one's… Continue reading Brutalism—Wotruba’s Church.
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