Burning Down the Upflowing River

įÅD_UFtR_pV

‘Sewing the Seeds of a Successful Surrender ‘

Angel Duhst part III

A calm excitement every time I see her name,
or find myself just near her,
or just see her picture smiling back at me.
The one in bed under the covers.
Her eyes smiling nearly as wide as her grin.
I sink into those beautiful brown eyes.
Deep
Caring
Skilled in many arts.
Wisdom beyond her years.

But what really gets me is her open heart
The way she loves me.
I go to speak, and only verse and songs spill out.
My mouth waters,
my eyes water,
I need water
And as I turn to face her
She’s there

Drip
Drip
Drip

Like the first ocean.
The first rains
My thirst dissipates
But her lightning catches me

Unprepared,
Her electric touch shocks my system
My being surges
My life comes rushing back!

Was I dead

Color floods my vision
Red, warm red light
Orange, my heart glows orange

My heart explodes
And she scoops me up into her arms
Here I stay
Here I find everything
I didn’t know was missing

Here I find
A completeness
Wholesome
Again

It takes at least two
to feel Oneness
I reason

Then
I laugh

Then
The love returns

I melt into a small puddle
and then once again,
She collects IT all
For some wise new
Magic
of an Old forgotten
Spell

It WORKS!

She, IS
Thee

I am
She

she
ME
we
B

I
❤️
U

artwork by Richard Stephenson

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

Only Friends are Real
Embrace Shulgin-ness
DON’T SCARE THE HORSES
DO BETTER!

≈Ω≈

TheVacantCleft.com
^©2025
d’Çłęfțïį VVækåńțęæ

——CIRCS——

Åńgęłåmįń

‘Angelamine‘

Angel Duhst part II

From which sphere then does
such a loverly being descend?
What ancient earthen land would
create such a woman of talent and beauty?
How did you escape?
Surely that which created you must
also be over flowing with beauty and skill.

What does a land do now in your absence?
Does it rejoice in its lonely abode?
Does it thrill in your pilgrimage west,
or sulk in the beauty now subtracted from its whole?

The mother and father of such greatness
must surely be proud, having divined the
only name suitable for such a child.

Angela Angela Angela.

Name of she who left the wing-ed
ones in their clouds of light.
Is she the cause of heaven’s war?
Is she the reason heaven spilt?

Was it she in the garden that night,
who bit the apple and set man free?
How is it that I find myself engaged
with a marvelous being such as thee?

Perhaps I slumber, still in my bed?
Is it all just a dream inside my head?
And what will be should I awake?
Will I find the world false and fake?

And should I wish to sleep instead,
which drugs could keep me here?
In her arms, held close and near?
The Elixir of love have I found in she?
Or is it she that dreams of me?

When she awakens will I still be?
Am I the apple?
Will her bite free me?
Or will I find that love is her art.
Cellulose & graphite, I just a part?

I slumber still wishing not to wake,
For love is just & only what you make.
My mind a light. My fingers a-twirl.
This little one an entire world.

Words flooding out as I lie here in bed,
My flask boils like my heart and my head.
Ahhh these feelings now reacted,
refluxed, then extracted.

All done with care.
For the beauty of her,
is both terrible and fair.

Drop
   Drop
Drop “Another?” She asks.

   As I look in her eyes and drop drop from my flask.

Each drop
   drops a whisper.
Each drop
   drops in her ear.
Each drop
   drop
drop is my love,

spoken softly my dear.
❤️
   ❤️
❤️

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

Only Friends are Real
Embrace Shulgin-ness
DON’T SCARE THE HORSES
DO BETTER!

≈Ω≈

TheVacantCleft.com
^©2025
d’Çłęfțïį VVækåńțęæ

——CIRCS——

Åńçį Førtę ê Łµmįńà d’Tęmpł Rœ

‘Ancient Walls & A Temple of Red Light’

Angel Duhst pt I

Crack

The first appears as she looks
up over her glasses at me.
Crick

Walls erected for protection
begin to lose their footing.
Creek
   Crack
   Creach

A small bit of forgotten joy
oozing out of a hairline fracture
causes the dense shell to split,
   Sccreeek
   Craaact

First I See. Sight. Then sounds
Stone walls starting to Crumble.
Walls. Who commissioned them all?
The walls use? All forgotten.
Crash

With a silent snap more stones tumble
revealing a hidden heart. Strong but fragile.
   Bang
   Thud
   Slam

HITTING the ground near where
I lay. Just us…then…
Then the bright-liquid
red-life, pouring out
I become I, say a vow,
in an Inn, somehow.

Here. I still lie. Lying still.
An old foundation?
Ruins of an old wall?
Covered in dust, & blood?
I look up then, only 2C-Her
looking down at me,

My heart pounds, un-vision
as an unborne unsees
There is a brilliant orange
light that blinds now me
Drop

I feel it on my face now;
warm. gentle. soothing
Its now THE FIRST DAY,
the first light, but first…
Drop

I must shake the dusty blood from my body.
This rust, no its dust and is it?
Familiar? Yes.
Why? trouble remembering how I came to be.
A small memory flashes back.
A seen Scene. I’ve Seen IT saw her

I see her see me
IT Sees
Not I
I
A
wall.
A crack,
…and then….ahhhh then again.

Warm and red
Pours liquid into me.
Eyes opened-closing airways

The orange light momentarily
overtaking my vision.
Then I look to my right
and then I see her. RED & light
The brightness blinding,
the source is good I write her.

The liquid’s redness coalesces.
A beautiful face reappears.
I smile as…

I see her smile and its much,
much too large on her face….
just a giant heart & matching grin .

She’s sewn me back up again!
For what was this wall needed then?
It strains my memory to comprehend.
And the light? A Valkyrie?
Sent down to some warrior slain?
I’ve seen no battles.
No wars of pain.
No hordes were fought
No banners flown.

Perhaps then an angel, sent
down from Clouds on Nine?
But how? I do still breathe.
Please I beg…WHAT???
I think NOT that death
has reached me yet.

I hear the squeak of rats.
I see a long iridescent snake
begin winding its-elf up a tree.

The large strong tree trunk is familiar.
It has planted strong roots.
Reaching deeper.
It has a soft bark,
small folds… no. wrinkles!

Then I becomes I.
It’s skin, blood, branch.
Roots; then before I,
is thy my Angel
Must I prepare to rise too?
Skyward? Home?
but no. She means to set me
back down. Gently.

Down from protective Trees
In high grass with the bees
Down into unknowns seas

Water washing stone
at my feet, now..

I am alone
I am no we

Again

Am
I
?

Plants rustling nearby as I write a note
a pleasant fragrance on the breeze.

Alive again?
Alone, not I.

Yes.

The walls no longer needed,
I lay down my spear and shield
And she twines around me.

Gasp

A rush of air fills my lungs.
This is Life.
Escaping? No.
Its rushing back!

She continues to wrap her arms
around me.

Then I no longer feel it.

Apoptosis?
No.

Mitosis?
Not this.

Then she is painted on my body.
Then I on hers.
We look into each others eyes
And we continue bleeding into one another.

Then she whispers,
“Walls are for prisons my dear.”
The final verse of her spell

I awake here in my bed,
in my newly formed body. I turn
to find nothing, or is it everything?…
there is? All of creation somehow
here in her, or is it in me?

I no longer can feel a difference .

Strange stones lay scattered beside me.
I do that which seems natural
and build a small temple to her.
A suitable place in which I give thanks.
Not made of stone, for stone is cold.
Nor on that ancient plain where they
might fall crumbling in ruins.

I build the small temple in my heart.
Its Eternal.
Filled with blood and red light,
Not infernal.

Warm fragrances issue forth,

A beacon.
A Call to worship

I answer with a call
as I reach out to her.
Amino
Angeliquor
Angelamine
Age of ALL

Drop
Drop
Drop

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

Only Friends are Real
Embrace Shulgin-ness
DON’T SCARE THE HORSES
DO BETTER!

≈Ω≈

TheVacantCleft.com
^©2025
d’Çłęfțïį VVækåńțęæ

——CIRCS——

d’Vįvå Prįmœ

‘The Good Life’

The best possible LIFE one can hope for

A war that seems NEVER-ENDING. Then, when it does finally come to an end, it takes you 10 years to get back home.

The entire journey is a never-ending parade of horrible calamities, monsters with infinite heads, and unseen perils that eventually kill off ALL of your friends.

Every time you come across a small, calm little island and just hope to catch your damn breath, it invariably turns out that it’s populated by some asshole with a very limited view of the world trying to eat you alive, or some bitch trying to turn all your buddies into pigs.

When you do finally make it home nobody seems to recognize you, and when they do they resent you for being there.
Someone always kicks your dog.

in the end you die

That’s if you are lucky enough to be the one who makes it HOME and don’t die somewhere mid-journey like everyone that was with you.

This is all the stuff in life that WILL happen, that one has ZERO power to control or prevent.

Any & all attempts to avoid these things and stay on shore, leads to an even more miserable state of existence. ANY & ALL.

Always heed the call to adventure!

What one does have some small amount of control over is who is on that damn boat with you. When choosing your companions for this voyage, there’s a counterintuitive wisdom to making a musician the 12th member of your war party.

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

Only Friends are Real
Embrace Shulgin-ness
DON’T SCARE THE HORSES
DO BETTER!

≈Ω≈

——CIRCS——

d’Mōörńïį Prįmœ

The First Morning

Angel Duhst part 1

I feel a soft brush as it strokes my face.
The hair of each bristle glides across my wet cheek
Oil and water begin to color me.

Another stroke and my second heart breaks
My soft warm blood-filled compass
feels freedom as the clay crumbles
and the needle spins round to north again.

The nitrogenous, oxygen-laced gas surrounds
the small red engine in my chest.
Familiar?
foreign?
it’s very difficult to determine.
It permeates everything.
I can’t escape its touch.

The soft perfume is drawn into my lungs
by another stroke of her brush.
One more strong pull of her hand.

A whisper
I struggle to hear.
Pointless until,…

She paints my ears with her words

The hissing gas.
The first sound.
The hissing gas.
The first song.
The hissing gas.
I no longer remember.

The first music.
Proceeds the beginning.
The first stone.
Proceeds the wall.

Bubbling up from the hot
pressurized deepness, slowly
cooled over millions of years,
the stones fell in love with oxygen.

Before flowers.
Before the large lizards
that bathed in the light above the trees.
Before the trees.

A sweet cologne coughed up
by the planets first inhabitants.
In love with each other,
the gas and stone merge.
A child is born.
It crumbles to the cavern’s floor.

Before the first Wooly Rhino
Offers its flesh to feed her children.
Before the first hairs from its hide
Are collected and bound.
She made her first brush
She visits the cavern
Scoops up the dust.
In silence.

A million years pass
as she’s sings the next verse to me.

Then a bridge.
Long.
But easy to traverse.

Another verse and my eyes open.
Or is it my heart that now sees?
It’s not important.
Color has no relevance in dreams.
Conveys no information.
Holds no weight.
Offers no insight.

She draws her brush
across my chest with another verse.

Crack.

A small rusty tear runs down
the stretched canvas of my face,

It drys and crumbles into a fine red powder.
She collects that too.
Into her pouch of Magick it’s placed.
Gently.

She knows just what it’s for.
She sees just what must be done.
She smiles up at me over silica,
boron, and something made
of ancient lifeforms,
something forgotten
forgotten even by the ancestors
of the short-nosed elephants.

Another verse fills the air.
Gently I draw another first breath.
A terrible fate awaits.

There.
Do you see it?
Just behind that large tree.
Do you see?

Large oversized teeth gleaming
in the African dusk. Covered
with what will become the first words.
Lyrics to a song she sings many years from now.

A mind more aware than we.
Educated over terrible amounts of time.
Quicker, Stronger, more Clever
Sharp black claws that threaten
separation.
Flesh from bone.
Her from me.
Me from the world.

The first and final ending to all stories.
The silence of her absence is hard to bare.

Then another verse
drop drop drops from her
rain soaked lips and…

A warm golden spell pours over me.
She gives birth at that exact moment.
Mother to the first spells.
The first Magick any man will know.

It has a different name.
But the meaning is the same.
There is only one true word in the world anyway.
Regardless of how many lips learn to speak it.

Another verse
and her power grows.
More familiar.
Also less.
Its creative power lies
in its ability to destroy.
No teeth or claws stand a chance.

First encountered as we cautiously
descended from the trees. When we first
stood on just two legs to see above
There in the strange new grasslands
we turned to look into each other eyes
and for the first time held hands.

It’s the first morning again.
It’s always the first morning.

There is no evolution.
There is no such thing as time.
It’s always only ever been…
The first morning.

It’s the first time. Now
It happens only once you know.
That is what makes it true.
It’s the first time.
Again.

I squint my eyes.

It’s the first time. I see
The glow
It’s the first time. I see
The light

It’s the first time. I see
The flowers
It’s the first time. I see
The difference.

It’s the first time.
I see The…

Drop Drop

Drop

There is. Every Thing.

Again

The first morning.
The first flower.
The first rain.

There is. No Thing.

Drop

Drop Drop

For the first time. It falls
For the first time. It’s named.
For the first time. It grows.
I open my mouth and drink it in.

The first rain hits the dry clay of the earth
And the flowers near her feet explode with scent

It is the

first morning

Again

It is.
the
first rain.You
are the
first woman It is.
the
first morning.

Again

The first kykeon. Consumed
The first secret. Whispered.
The first elixir. Prepared.
The first temple. Erected.
The first psychopomp. Born

As
You
Drink
I see through Your eyes,

I feel through, Your heart.

The last kykeon. Consumed.
The last secret. Whispered.
The last elixir. Prepared.
The last temple. Demolished.
The last psychopomp. Dead

Together
We are
together
We are
the temple
We are
The light
We are
The morning

Then as
it falls

We are
The rain
We are
the flowers

There are
no walls
There never were

It
is

now

The First Morning Again.

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

Only Friends are Real
Embrace Shulgin-ness
DON’T SCARE THE HORSES
DO BETTER!

≈Ω≈

——CIRCS——

įÅræådńęæ d’Ægęńïį (Ç˚8)

ARIADNE #8 (again)

                     Ω
                  The
              Young,
          Wondering,
          Olympian, 
          the FIRST 
              morning 
                he finds 
                  (again), his
                  ARIADNE
                (waking) 
                THE
                (wander)
                   Godoff 
                       THE 
                   (wander)
                for d’Vine
              I's Naxos I
           peaceful sea I's
         my island home
        place of my birth.
        Aye! Wander I's
         wondering no less
            Wanting I No thing. 
                Seeking I No thing
                        I Cultivate I
                              cultivate 
                                   the vine
                                  wish only I
                                 to tend to
                                to my 
                              vine
                             I am I
                            I,as I,
                           am I on I way
                           daily path I walk,
                              I round I an
                                    large
                                     RED
                                  stone,
                                MOVING 
                          To-from each.
                      from vine to vine
                   sippin’ a wei of d'Oine
                   no I is I is ever new 
                     I always do it too
                      no need I a thing. 
                        needing not I
                      having it all
                    But it’s is
                  not as it 
                was I
              before 
             I bow now I
                 SHE  IS?
                   Here!
                      How?  
                        Why
                         Now?
                    What fates 
                have suddenly 
             shifted? But 
          questions such as this
                             are 
                        quickly 
                    dismissed
           I is MINE in error?
        I’s eyes that function
         In the MAL or wrong, 
           I be the one thats lost 
               abandoned to the sea. 
                   Not her. but it I’s is in,
                          need of being found,
                           IS I thats lost a gin.
                              As we taking each
                                 other in I see 
                                 attraction
                                mixed
                            with
                        fear
                     In
                 her
              eyes
          She sees 
           the same
              In mine. 
                 “””The..
                    GRAv,
                c    ‘ IT
                  c     Y's
                     grati-
                     tude
                     of 
                   our
                meeting
            PULLS on me.
         Slowly, I advance
        She does not run. We.
          Becoming immortal I
             Residing I on WE
                     '''Holy\,,,
                    Mtn. Eh
                  TOP a-
                 aGApi
                 mou
                   eyes
                    I knowing
                     I knew not I's
                           Know I now
                     searching all eyes
                       I searching I was
                   was I was Everything. 
                  I’s was wanting? Aye!
               Every little no Every I
               not a thing I's needed
                no thing had that I
                no I had I that I
                   Knew. Not I Now
                      I know NOW  
                        I know I 
                          loŌked
                         her I’s, 
                        IN 
                       her        Ω
                     eyez ons 
                  I Aye! the I’s
                   Have all the
                  the islands
                  eyE Says
                    I’s is
                        iSIs
                          IS
                         I
                        ! 
                       :
                       '

for Carl, RPAC, THEE Ἥρως τοῦ παρόντος

∞

d’Çłęƒțïį

Only Friends are Real
Embrace Shulgin-ness
DON’T SCARE THE HORSES
DO BETTER!

≈Ω≈

——CIRCS——