Strange dreams inspire me. On Saturday night as I slept, I mingled with vampires who were elevating themselves in an industrial building- warehouse district style. I looked on unconcerned and said I had been elevating myself since I was a kid. The vampires existed within the structure, but definitely were not in control. Frankly, I was not impressed. Although I was not a vampire, I wasn't shocked nor intimidated by their presence either.
Art is also inspiring, especially myth, which feels so natural when taken in context.
title- Proserpine
artist-Dante Gabriel Rossetti
style- Pre-Raphaelite
date -1874
Feeling the pull, I wrote this on Sunday morning after my dream.
Ode to Persephone: Queen of the Underworld
a dirty little bitter face reflects the fruit
red bumps on her lips
the seeds bleeding from her eyes
a rotten apple in the hand of a woman
the last rite of the Aphrodite myth
a descent into the hand of a monster
lucid while she lies beside him and shrinks
stuck to the corner as she looked closer
the mirror glittered and the sparkle deepened
she’s been running round’ with these outlaws
to get a sniff, if only a small desire satisfied
perfection at the point of obliteration
lost in the creative cycle batteries still charging
and she craves this and she craves that
witness as it was, the preacher and the nun
pulling the thing till it bled
we said Jesus was a man and Mary caved in
separate traditions carved from the animal bone
sick from the decay we got our sleepy award
still begging us to stay gone
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