Garden of Graves

Monday, February 12

…Sweet to ride forth at evening from the wells.
When shadows pass gigantic on the sand,
And softly through the silence beat the bells
Along the Golden Road to Samarkand.

We travel not for trafficking alone;
By hotter winds our piery hearts are fanned:
For lust of knowing what should not be known
We take the Golden Road to Samarkand…

I danced on the eve of battle
I sang for the men I’ve lost and loved
I was a princess, I was a queen
To my tribe I was free and beloved

I am wrapped in veils and robes
Bright rings on my fingers and toes
I am a mother, I am a wife
I am a woman with no enemies, no foes

We are the women of the sand
We are free and we are caged
Isolated islands, no foe, no friend
Waiting for others to turn our page

The concert of storms whips around
The magic of stars forsake our kind
Our lives, our loves, never to be found
Because fate is blind, oh she is blind

I defied him, I felt no fear
I endured them, I felt no pain
My pride trampled, my heart broken
But I will fight again

I look upon my sister
I am torn apart, conflicted
She is so strong, she is so brave
Am I to be forever a ‘woman’ depicted?

We are the women of the sand
We are free and we are caged
Isolated islands, no foe, no friend
Waiting for others to turn our page

The concert of storms whips around
The magic of stars forsake our kind
Our lives, our loves, never to be found
Because fate is blind, oh she is blind

Sweet to ride forth at evening from the wells.
When shadows pass gigantic on the sand,
And softly through the silence beat the bells
Along the Golden Road to Samarkand!

We travel not for trafficking alone;
By hotter winds our piery hearts are fanned:
For lust of knowing what should not be known
We take the Golden Road to Samarkand!

We are the women of the sand
We are free and we are caged
Isolated islands, no foe, no friend
Waiting for others to turn our page

The concert of storms whips around
The magic of stars forsake our kind
Our lives, our loves, never to be found
Because fate is blind, oh she is blind

We are the women of the sand
Isolated islands, no foe, no friend
Doomed to lifetime behind walls
We smile until the world falls…

Thus quoth Joie at 10:59 PM

a perfect lonely pearl is sailing
the waves of the stellar sea
glowing within her melancholy
she is weeping silently

earthly seas reach out to hold her
each night they yearn to be
embracing the sorrowful floater
that drifts by endlessly

come to me, come to me
tell me your secrets

share with me, share with me
give me your pain

sing for me, sing for me
those silent melodies

that echo through eternity

empty lonesome rivers flowing
with tears she cannot cry
her parched lunar floor is sighing
her face is cold and dry

gazing forever she is burning
with the inferno she yearns
luna my love, my faraway darling
what she dreams of it never happens

luna my love
my faraway darling
luna my love

the silent eye that watches through eternity.

Thus quoth Joie at 10:57 PM

in the night
shadows crawl
in the dark
raindrops fall

ever onward
hurtling downward
floating, falling
silent sounds

i am the raincloud
and i am the mother
of thousands of children
i send from the heavens

hungry land
gaping seas
reaching out
devouring

ever onward
hurtling downward
crying, calling
silent sounds

i am the raincloud
and i am the mother
of thousands of children
i send from the heavens

i birth my sorrows
and i birth all my pain
i'm always believing
i've nothing to gain

i send my children
to their deaths
i give the world
the gift of life

i am the raincloud.

Thus quoth Joie at 10:54 PM

Friday, July 14

O Bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand
And the more I think of you the more I think long
If I had you now as I had before
All the lords of Old England would not purchase Portmore

O Bonny Portmore, I am sorry to see
Such woeful destruction of your ornament tree
For it stood on your shore for many's a long day
Till the long boats of Antrim came to float it away

All the birds in the forest they bitterly weep
Saying, "Where will we shelter and where will we sleep?"
For the oak and the ash, they are all cutten down
And the walls of bonny Portmore are all down to the ground

O Bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand
And the more I think of you the more I think long
If I had you now as I had you before
All the lords of Old England would not purchase Portmore

-- Traditional

Thus quoth Joie at 12:24 AM

Thursday, October 27

I am air, and you are fire
I am vital to your existence
Only I can give you life
Without me you cannot be.

You are the rain, and I am the earth
Without you I cease to live
I look into the sky waiting
To feel your caresses upon me again.

I am the Moon, and you are the stars
We could very well do
Without each other
But together we make the night sky whole.

We are two people
In two different places
But our hearts and souls are one

Without me you cannot be.
Without you I cannot be.

Thus quoth Joie at 10:35 PM

Tuesday, August 23

You lack eyes
But you can see my heart
And even though there is a void in your face
I think you are perfect, perfect

You lack ears
But you can hear my voice
And even though there are spaces on your head
I think you are perfect, perfect

You lack a nose
But you can sniff my emotions
And even though there is a gaping hole in you face
I think you are perfect, perfect

You lack lips
But you still speak to my soul
And even though there is but a gash upon your chin
I think you are perfect, perfect

You lack skin
But you can feel my love
And even though you are but flesh and blood
I think you are perfect, perfect

You lack a face
Limbs, fingers, toes
Torso, apendages
But your spirit remains

Our love transcends the physical
The material is fleeting
My faceless love
I think you are perfect, perfect

Thus quoth Joie at 12:37 AM

Friday, July 22

Have you seen me floating by?
Waiting beneath the twilight sky?
Have you seen me shed my tears?
Unveiling all your deepest fears?

I am the wraith of your longing
The dark nymph that's belonging
To the recesses of your broken heart
And pierces sharp just like a dart

Have you heard my singing voice?
Inaudible like the slightest noise?
Have you heard me call your name?
Defiling you in all your shame?

I am the wraith of your darkest hate
Your life I've knotted intrinsicate
Pulling and tugging you grow tight
Unaware of your impending plight

Have you felt my loving kiss?
Soft and gentle, so easy to miss?
Have you felt my sharpened nails?
Deep dark gashes, crimson vales?

I am the wraith of your own life
I am your own suicidal knife
You want me to take you quickly
But!

You've already drowned in your own self-pity.

Thus quoth Joie at 9:37 PM

Wednesday, June 29

His bloodshot eyes follow her
As she makes her way from wall to wall
She hides from the tongues of others
But still she hears him call

She can see from his lupine eyes
They are not the same
Yet amongst the others in this hall
Only they both know the game

His gaze burns into her skin
Even as she holds up her black lace fan
Memories from centuries long ago
Are never forgotten in the time of Man

Her undead heart weeps at his feet
His bestial soul is in her stand
Creatures of the night and moon
Enigmas like her black lace fan

The dawn is creeping like a fiend
As they both stand in the empty site
He stands before the broken window
Shielding her from the cruel light

She points her pistol at his heart
Her silver eyes are hard as rocks
Unafraid he snarls and reaches out
To touch and finger her raven locks

He kisses her lips of blood
And she squeezes the pistol's trigger
A final gasp and he sags in her arms
Lodged in his heart a bullet of silver

A single tear falls from her eyes
As she embraces her wolf-man
He falls and the sun consumes them
Till nothing left, but her black lace fan

Thus quoth Joie at 10:37 PM

Where Lagan stream sings lullaby
There blows a lily fair;
The twilight gleam is in her eye,
The night is in her hair.
And, like a love-sick lenanshee,
She hath my heart in thrall;
Nor life I owe, nor liberty,
For Love is lord of all.

And often when the beetles horn
Hath lulled the eve to sleep,
I steal unto her shieling lorn
And thro' the dooring peep.
There on the cricket's singing stone
She spares the bog wood fire.
And hums in sad sweet undertone
The song of heart's desire.

-- MacCathmhaoil

Thus quoth Joie at 10:31 PM

Tuesday, June 28

You lived a short yet impressive life
From nothing to everything
Had your share of pleasure and strife
Alternating between extremes
But never falling in between

Dear Josephine do have faith
You were loved to the grave
And beyond more so still
Violets, above you and in his heart
Your souls will never be apart

Thus quoth Joie at 11:07 PM