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Waning Crescent Moon
Waning Crescent
3% Full
Member Info
Name: ladygrey
Last Seen: Fri, 02 Jul 2010

Membership: Member

Personal Bio
"E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle"

"That emperor, who sways

The realm of sorrow, at mid breast from the ice

Stood forth; and I in stature am more like

A giant, than the giants are his arms.

Mark now how great that whole must be, which suits

With such a part. If he were beautiful

As he is hideous now, and yet did dare

To scowl upon his Maker, well from him

May all our misery flow. Oh what a sight!

How passing strange it seem'd, when I did spy

Upon his head three faces: one in front

Of hue vermilion, the other two with this

Midway each shoulder join'd and at the crest;

The right 'twixt wan and yellow seem'd; the left

To look on, such as come from whence old Nile

Stoops to the lowlands. Under each shot forth

Two mighty wings, enormous as became

A bird so vast. Sails never such I saw

Outstretch'd on the wide sea. No plumes had they,

But were in texture like a bat; and these

He flapp'd i' th' air, that from him issued still

Three winds, wherewith Cocytus to its depth

Was frozen. At six eyes he wept: the tears

Adown three chins distill'd with bloody foam.

At every mouth his teeth a sinner champ'd,

Bruised as with ponderous engine; so that three

Were in this guise tormented. But far more

Than from that gnawing, was the foremost pang'd

By the fierce rending, whence oft - times the back

Was stript of all its skin. "That upper spirit,

Who hath worst punishment," so spake my guide,

"Is Judas, he that hath his head within

And plies the feet without. Of th' other two,

Whose heads are under, from the murky jaw

Who hangs, is Brutus:lo! how he doth writhe

And speaks not. The other, Cassius, that appears

So large of limb. But night now reascends;

And it is time for parting. All is seen."

Sonnet to Satan

In darkroom of your eye the moonly mind

someraults to couterfeit eclipse;

bright angels black out over logic's land

under shutter of their handicaps.

Commanding that corkscrew comet jet forth ink

to pitch the white world down in swiveling flood,

you overcast all order's noonday rank

and turn god's radiant photograph to shade.

Steepling snake in that contrary light

invades the dilate lens of genesis

to print your flaming image in birthspot

with characters no cockcrow can deface.

O maker of proud planet's negative,

obscure the scalding sun till no clocks move.


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