Pandora’s Box

It started out with a kiss in a scene
A silent dream in black and white
Beauty brought silver to the screen
With eyes that sparkled so bright

Then it was the expected senses that mattered
And the new dream became a coloured noise
Leaving the old silver tattered
And beauty was lost without a voice

© 2013 Varja Linnea Askeland all rights reserved
(A poem I wrote as a tribute to Louise Brooks)

The cry of the wolf

Woods of silver, a hidden sight
Lures behind the trees
Among the shadows of night
A silent roar in a breeze

Mountains of silver, a frozen howl
A call to others of his kind
To share his nightly prowl
But no one to find

Eyes of gold, a stolen tear
Colours the ground red
A cry he can not hear
Now everyone is dead

© 2013 Varja Linnea Askeland all rights reserved

For the love of Lilith

She was the beauty in scarlet hair
Dust of roses blushed her cheek
Juice of pomegranate watered her lips

Emerald eyes made him weak

His heart was smitten with desire
Lusty grapes crowned his thirst
Fiery glow filled his chamber
She loved til’ virtue burst

Devoured by the soil of profanity
Luster of pearls and mind was drained
Waves of fire cursed the end
Serpent in disguise and spirit gained

© 2012 Varja Linnea Askeland all rights reserved

Below the grieving moon

From midnight hour, howl be heard
Ye have come, death and his bride
Reeking lusts of sodomized wounds
Thou art the seducer by my side

As they saw, I could not see
Fatal sun, destruction beam
Roaring hunger into oblivion
Decieving light, ne’er as it seem

From midnight hour, hollow be free
Ye who seized the rain, pretend to cry
Shrieking souls of eternal fall
Thou art death in its grievous eye

As they felt, I could not feel
Ye who harvest the grain, pretend to run
Swooning prey into mirage
As they lov’d, I loved none

© 2012 Varja Linnea Askeland all rights reserved

Ursprungligen från en dikt jag skrev 2009, med originaltitel — “Full moon”,
men det finns inte så mycket av den gamla dikten kvar i denna jag skrev idag.
När jag skrev denna dikten lyssnade jag på, och blev inspirerad av:
“Funeral in Carpathia” av Cradle of Filth, från albumet Midnight in the Labyrinth

Angel of tears

O’er silver lake dwells an angel in mud
The serpent craved thee alone to drain
Thou art ne’er free from thine own blood
Third circle of hell wilt thou gain

Hands are cold and dying
Drawing down the venom of dismiss
Unearthly mother ne’er ease the crying
Defile thy grace with deceiving kiss

Shrieking souls devoured and caught
From the deepest core of plea
Woe unto thee for the war thou forgot
And silver becomes thee.

© 2012 Varja Linnea Askeland all rights reserved

När jag skrev denna dikten lyssnade jag på, och blev inspirerad av:
“The Rape and Ruin of Angels” av Cradle of Filth, från albumet Midnight in the Labyrinth

Grave poetry

For thou my heart is dark
Forbidden dreams of pagan dance
Before the standing stones
Reveal the ritual of trance

For thou my heart is lure
Enticing pearls of moonlight
Before the infernal swine
Thrill, kill the sinful rite

For thou my heart is strong
Cradle cry and grave mourn
Before the anguished reflection
Reality to all is born

© 2012 Varja Linnea Askeland all rights reserved

När jag skrev denna dikten lyssnade jag på, och blev inspirerad av:
“Summer dying fast” av Cradle of Filth, från albumet Midnight in the Labyrinth.

The plague of insanity

What happened in the place of vicious laughter?
A blasphemy lingers in despair
Empty glasses, empty faces
I shall never gasp for air

What happened in the souls of mankind?
A solid rage awoke within
Eyes are blind, all are monsters
I shall never relate to my skin

What happened in the act of God?
A plague devoured all of humanity
Madness was real, bad became worse
I shall never return into this insanity

What happened to the sense of sanctuary?
A love more sound than a mothers embrace
Mortified to the end, victimized by truth
I shall never forget his honest face

© 2012 Varja Linnea Askeland all rights reserved

Denna dikt specialskrev jag för serieromanen ‘The suffering kind’
av Hanna Beatrice Norgren