Friday, December 7, 2012
The Priestess On The Forbidden Isle
Do you want to wonder?
Well, read the mystery - warlord's literary ponder. If your fancies are incline to fond to these strange worlds that lie yonder
that will make the hemispheres of the brain go asunder
Read this strange, literary ponder.
These are forbidden utters
From the world of crazed wonders!
To make the burning luminosity of your brain
So are sure you still want to wonder? Fools!
Heed but be careful, because these linear symbols are sinful seeds
that will cling on to your brain like tormenting weeds
So are still sure you want to feed your brain to these crazed ponders?
Well, too bad. And I don't care if it makes you sad
Become wicked, like me, and ferment the brain with crazed wonders
Of hidden worlds that lie yonder
in the depths of the mind
that has been ripped asunder!
I was an outsider, misfit and no friend seeker in this wretched, levithanian kingdom filled with treachery and deceit. The bards, belonging to the cult of the dark light were told by heretical mystics of an isle where the choassophian priestess dwells, where she possessed strange apparatuses, if used wrongly would torment the mind endlessly, and perhaps give people permanent insanity. She was also known to possess forbidden powers of magick. I was given unforgettable wonders when the bards imparted me these sayings, when the moon expressed it's crazed luminosity at the levithanian kingdom. They were strange bards, though. Bards that wore rings which had effulgent opal stones on it that expressed plemoric intelligence through it. Some say they possessed the power to make those opal stones to their personal universe, where they would enter into and fragment their conciousness to a multitude of expressions as they did this during their meditative state where their physicality would shed off , then they would go into a wondrous state of amnesia. Once they did this they were able to enter their own world they personally created in a state of forgetfulness.
They had long, pointy eyebrows and strange, tired bags under their eyes from the insomnia consequences of possessing a thousand and one tales within their minds. Their garbs were velvet black, with intricate purple designs, which took years to professionally fabricate. Upon the precipice was their dwelling, with weird ruins, of statues of forgotten gods and palaces. The wizards there would communicate with the forgotten ones by simply touching the ruins, being chanelled forgotten lore through their communications. Up the serpentine stairway, broken and decayed by recallless ages, stood mossed statues of weird gods. On top of the hill stood a baphometic goat with a flute, for a fountain statue that water specifically poured out of it's flute, covered with radiant moss from the olden ages. It was known that the wizards, with their ageless wisdom would skry through the water that was contained in the fountain. Communicating with bizarre entities that inhabited planetary abodes, in highly intricate galaxies and cosmoses. To try to give proper articulation to such visions would be unnecessarily foolish. The awes that came to me were divine, godly sentiments. To put into words would lessen those precious awes & sentiments.
Afterwards, when finished listening to those queer sayings of the isle and priestess from the bards of dark light . I commenced a desire to flee this land to the forbidden isle. I went to my dwelling, in the misty forestry beyond the levithanian kingdom. It was a cabin, given to me by a heretical witch. She drew weird artistry on the walls, of cthulhuian monsters,ominous cosmoses and abysses. She also had drawings of astrological charts of this worlds and other worlds she would visit through her acutely intense dreams and astral explorations. She left me her dragon leather-bound books of occult lore from remote antiquity to me. When you hold such books in your hand you felt the energy of the ancient wizards and sages. Such feelings are miraculously thrilling. The leather was from androgynous dragons that have been long extinct. The remnants of their recollections lies in our tales and legends. Sometimes dreams would come to me of this heretical witch dancing ecstatically on the stars, while the cthulhuian beings would fly hideously on atheric oceans of space, as they made guttural rhythms and chaotic dances. I was told rumours by the village folks that she stole the key to the chaossphere from the levithanian priests, in their foreboding palace of horrors. She wanted to dwell there eternally so she could fuse her soul with the primordial energy of chaos.
When I entered into the cabin I decided to grab my sword, cloak and silver coins. The sword was made by a blacksmith, who was deaf and blind, but possessed high mastery of blacksmithing. He also was an incredible musickian, though he was deaf, he was still able to feel the rhythms of higher cosmos. Later, at the sea ports I traded my silvers coins for a boat made from ancient oaken wood. According to the fisherman, who I bought the boat from, the oak roots back to the primordial creation of this planet. I thanked him kindly, for it, and departed these lands to the forbidden isle I sailed. The boat was made by the small-folks who dwell in cavernous mountains who have cults with pre-dominating dogmas of not living in the light, but only in darkness. They believe the luminous rays of the sun will turn them into perishable dust. Though they are superstitious, they tend to be enjoyable folks to be around with. And needless to say, their craftsmanship has stunning merit. They carved a oaken statue of their goddess, in front of the boat with angelic wings and strange horns on her head. I was told it would protect me when ominous things would impend. Sailing through the devia sea, known to be populated by the merfolks. Sometimes sailing through it, especially at nights, you would gaze below and see their radiant kingdoms shine visibly in the deep, sinister sea. At times, though, merfolk sorceresses would be lying on large rocks compelling you with ther pernicious seduction. When you look into their eyes it seemed as they had diamond-esque pupils in their eyes. Their blueish white, and they had green long hair.
Later, on arrival at the forbidden isle. The land was odder than mine. It was told to me by the bards from the dark light cult that certain parts of the land was invaded by extra - terrestrial plantations that transformed people's physiology to become fungus-esque in nature. When the men had their physiology transformed to preternatural characteristics, and their women were left to their original appearance. They were afraid to what happened to their men until they showed them what they perceived with their new, radically altered conciousness by imparting some of their fleshy plantation to them to digest. When digested, they saw a radically different reality, filled with radiance and luminosity. Then they voluntarily became plantation beings , and ultimately a new race of people. Normally called the plant-folks. Now they do rites and ceremonies, with the folks made of mist dancing on the ground and trees. As I walked by them, in the distance, upon the hill was the priestess of the forbidden isle, who knew the magick of chaossophia. Wolfs were by here, she wore a black cloak with subtle mystical designs. Her skin was fair, the hair was dark red. But strangely she had a black vertical flame painted across her eyes with purple tips to represent the black flame of feminine energies of chaos.
She brought me to her tower, by the forestry where demonic tree-esque folks dwell. Inside, I was taken to the room of conjuration, which had a cabalistic design on the floor. She gave a string instrument to me , which expressed droney rhythms while she danced to them. The cabalistic tree of life had purplish crystals in its 10 slots, which led to spheres unknown.
She approached me and said" Some people believe flesh is a trap, others believe the flesh is necessary for you to create your own soul. Regardless which one is true, we shall transcend our physical bodies by conducting sexual magick rites on the cabalistic floor. So we romantically took off our clothes, and begun it. When our states of consciousness were acute, our astral bodies were able to leave the flesh and go into the crystals in the cabalistic slots to journey to the spheres unknown. We travelled into unimaginable, strange worlds only known by mystic's of high merit. Sometimes we travelled to worlds where our astral bodies would inhabit physical bodies, then we would lose each other and find each other again through a perilous journey . Other worlds were totally spiritual, with menacing lords. And vistas with incessant serpentine labyrinths.
Finally, we came back from whence we came, then we lay on the ground from this perilous,long venture of horrors and wonders to the spheres unknown. Suddenly, a premonition came to the priestess when her raven came by. It spoke to her in raven language of deadly perils on the distant parts of the isle. She understood the language perfectly, it was taught to her by the wizards of the isle who long used the ravens for communication purposes.
Right after she told me we'll have another astral exploration and transform our astral bodies into ravens and see what perils that are taking place. This we did. And we travelled to the empire of the living dead. Made by sorcerers who posses the art of necromancy, and have made an army of the living dead to support their ruthless empire by subjugating villages on the forbidden isle to increase their power. They had nefarious plans to awaken the old cyclop sorcerers long slumbering in the ground who posses astonishing capacities of the dark arts.
So we flew back to devise our plans at her tower to triumph them.
To be continued.