The Afternoon of a Faun

Faun 1

The Afternoon of a Faun

These nymphs that I would perpetuate:

so clear

And light, their carnation, that it floats in the air

Heavy with leafy slumbers.

Did I love a dream?

My doubt, night’s ancient hoard, pursues its theme

In branching labyrinths, which being still

The veritable woods themselves, alas, reveal

My triumph as the ideal fault of roses.

Faun 5

Consider…

whether the women of your glosses

Are phantoms of your fabulous desires!

Faun, the illusion flees from the cold, blue eyes

Of the chaster nymph like a fountain gushing tears:

But the other, all in sighs, you say, compares

To a hot wind through your fleece that blows at noon?

No! through the motionless and weary swoon

Of stifling heat that suffocates the morning,

Save from my flute, no waters murmuring

In harmony flow out into the groves;

And the only wind on the horizon no ripple moves,

Exhaled from my twin pipes and swift to drain

The melody in arid drifts of rain,

Is the visible, serene and fictive air

Of inspiration rising as if in prayer.

Relate, Sicilian shores, whose tranquil fens

My vanity disturbs as do the suns,

Silent beneath the brilliant flowers of flame:

“That cutting hollow reeds my art would tame,

I saw far off, against the glaucous gold

Of foliage twined to where the springs run cold,

An animal whiteness languorously swaying;

To the slow prelude that the pipes were playing,

This flight of swans — no! naiads — rose in a shower

Of spray…”

Faun 6

Day burns inert in the tawny hour

And excess of hymen is escaped away —

Without a sign, from one pined for the primal A:

And so, beneath a flood of antique light,

As innocent as are the lilies white,

To my first ardours I wake alone.

Besides sweet nothings by their lips made known,

Kisses that only mark their perfidy,

My chest reveals an unsolved mystery…

The toothmarks of some strange, majestic creature:

Enough! Arcana such as these disclose their nature

Only through vast twin reeds played to the skies,

That, turning to music all that clouds the eyes,

Dream, in a long solo, that we amused

The beauty all around us by confused

Equations with our credulous melody;

Faun 7

And dream that the song can make love soar so high

That, purged of all ordinary fantasies

Of back or breast — incessant shapes that rise

In blindness — it distils sonorities

From every empty and monotonous line.

Then, instrument of flights, Syrinx malign,

At lakes where you attend me, bloom once more!

Long shall my discourse from the echoing shore

Depict those goddesses: by masquerades,

I’ll strip the veils that sanctify their shades;

And when I’ve sucked the brightness out of grapes,

To quell the flood of sorrow that escapes,

I’ll lift the empty cluster to the sky,

Avidly drunk till evening has drawn nigh,

And blow in laughter through the luminous skins.

Faun 4

Let us inflate our MEMORIES, O nymphs.

“Piercing the reeds, my darting eyes transfix,

Plunged in the cooling waves, immortal necks,

And cries of fury echo through the air;

Splendid cascades of tresses disappear

In shimmering jewels. Pursuing them, I find

There, at my feet, two sleepers intertwined,

Bruised in the languor of duality,

Their arms about each other heedlessly.

I bear them, still entangled, to a height

Where frivolous shadow never mocks the light

And dying roses yield the sun their scent,

That with the day our passions might be spent.”

I adore you, wrath of virgins-fierce delight

Of the sacred burden’s writhing naked flight

From the fiery lightning of my lips that flash

With the secret terror of the thirsting flesh:

From the cruel one’s feet to the heart of the shy,

Whom innocence abandons suddenly,

Watered in frenzied or less woeful tears.

Faun 3

“Gay with the conquest of those traitorous fears,

I sinned when I divided the dishevelled

Tuft of kisses that the gods had ravelled.

For hardly had I hidden an ardent moan

Deep in the joyous recesses of one

(Holding by a finger, that her swanlike pallor

From her sister’s passion might be tinged with colour,

The little one, unblushingly demure),

When from my arms, loosened by death obscure,

This prey, ungrateful to the end, breaks free,

Spurning the sobs that still transported me.”

Others will lead me on to happiness,

Their tresses knotted round my horns, I guess.

You know, my passion, that crimson with ripe seeds,

Pomegranates burst in a murmur of bees,

And that our blood, seized by each passing form,

Flows toward desire’s everlasting swarm.

In the time when the forest turns ashen and gold

And the summer’s demise in the leaves is extolled,

Etna! when Venus visits her retreat,

Treading your lava with innocent feet,

Though a sad sleep thunders and the flame burns cold.

Faun 8

I hold the queen!

Sure punishment…

No, but the soul,

Weighed down by the body, wordless, struck dumb,

To noon’s proud silence must at last succumb:

And so, let me sleep, oblivious of sin,

Stretched out on the thirsty sand, drinking in

The bountiful rays of the wine-growing star!

Couple, farewell; I’ll see the shade that now you are.

[by Stephen Mallarme

Translated from French by Henry Weinfeld and Mark Ebden]

Faun 2

Details

Pants: [sys] – “Comox Pants” – NEW @ Gen Neutral

Top: [sys] – “Rio t-Shirt”

Shoes: GizzA – “Combat Boots & Socks”

Armor: [LAB737] – “Ram Armor”

Horns: Wasabi Pills – “Inferno Horns”

Hair: EMO-tions – “Amare”

Face Decor: The Forge – “Face Chain”

Tattoo: [White~Widow] – “Criminal”

Makeup: +Nuuna+ – “Ere Makeup” & ” Hlaftone”

Location: Crest of Vrek’mar

Model & Photographer: Wicca Merlin

 

Post Apocalyptic Mood

MoonElixier 4

A Post Apocalyptic Poem

All these days are filled with rust,
With nothing living on the earth’s crust.

Ships and cars and planes and hearts,
Are all that you’ll find,
But who said that the human race has become refined?

MoonElixier 3
Civilization has ended… Yes,
Cultures have been removed… Yes,
Common sense ceases to be relevant… Yes,
But was it not compulsory before?

Perhaps the era of technology has ended,
And most souls of the past have descended,
But we are still human after all…
Aren’t we?

MoonElixier 2
Does a smart phone and a suit and a job and a home,
Make us the humans we have all known,
Or is there something inside of all of us,
Something that helps the wounded,
Instead of our own.

Maybe it’s the feeling inside when we see another,
The rush of excitement, pain, fear and the next world,
To discover.

MoonElixier 1

Maybe it’s the thought of putting down,
What has so much to offer just for your own needs,
Greedy…
Needy…

I don’t see a difference from this world and the last,
Perhaps someone I stumble apon will shut me down fast,
Or perhaps they will nod and walk on, right past.

[by Lewis Cavallo]

MoonElixier 5

Details

Outfit (incl boots): Moon Elixir – “Lark”

Hair: No.Match – “No.Border”

Poses: ..::DARE::..

Location: Ironwood Hills

Model & Photographer: Wicca Merlin

“Wicca’s Raven”

Kyra Camel, owner and designer of Baboom and as well a wonderful friend, gave me a great honor, with dedicating am incredible gown to me. The “Wicca’s Raven” dress is an amazing not symmetric outfit with just one arm and one leg covered. The bodice is made of stunning lace and all the feathers really give the whole creation a wonderful elegant touch with the little artistic edge I love so much 🙂 I thought a long time about something special, that I could add to this post and as I was looking again and again on the pictures the raven poem of Edgar Allan Poe, one of my favourite writers. came to my mind 🙂

The Raven

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door –
Only this, and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore –
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore –
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door –
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; –
This it is, and nothing more,’

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the door; –
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!’
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!’
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,’ said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore –
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; –
‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door –
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door –
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore –
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door –
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.’

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered – not a feather then he fluttered –
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before –
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.’
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.’

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,’ said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore –
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of “Never-nevermore.”‘

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore –
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.’

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,’ I cried, `thy God hath lent thee – by these angels he has sent thee
Respite – respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil! –
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted –
On this home by horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore –
Is there – is there balm in Gilead? – tell me – tell me, I implore!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore –
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore –
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting –
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! – quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!’
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted – nevermore!

(Edgar Allan Poe, 1845)

Outfit: Baboom – “Wicca’s Raven” – NEW (mesh)

Jewelry: Chop Zuey – “Rocinante’s Curve”

Shoes: epoque – “Mesa Platforms”

Skin: Silken Moon – “Wicca” (custom skin-more about soon 😉 )

Mask: DE Designs – “Maiden Face Mask”

Lipstick: Silken Moon – “Silky Lips Dark Red”

Lashes: Xplosion – “Spirit”

Hair: Miamai – “Lena”

Nails: ..::AKA::.. – “Black Long Nails”

Model & Photographer: Wicca Merlin

Egoisme presents: Le Fleurs du Mal

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Wicca’s Wardrobe: LOTD 11/29/2011 – Mother of Darkness

Yesterday, again I made my way to the DAB Studios, owned by Daron Brandeis. He was IMing me, if I would have time for a shooting. A designer booked a commercial picture and he wanted me to style and model it. As I arrived, the designer was there and we had a short talk about what she wanted to have, the after all was cleared she left.

We did a few test shots to show her later and as we finished I was fooling around with a few looks and styles I created before as, I heard Daron freaking out about my actual outfit. Again it was clear that our crazy minds are not that far from each other and he started building a stand up little set. I put on the funny lightballs again and got very excited about, what he has in mind… I suddenly saw electric lights between my hands and instantly put on my glowy blue eyes… one word gave the other and I heard the camera going again and again… and what came out… was so incredible I have no words for…

Then suddenly I got a notecard from Pindar, who was sitting and watching the photography session… I had no clue that he writes and was hell touched by what just came up his mind watching the shooting. I asked him if I may use his little “poem” for the blog as it says more than 1000 words I could do…

Mother of Darkness by Pindar Kanya

I walk the spaces
between the worlds
and stalk the ebon reaches beyond Time
universes come into being
between the possibilities of my Will
to Be…or not to Be…there is no question
for I decide
what will and will not Be
I am the Smiter of Gods
the Eater of Worlds
and the Mother of Darkness
I call and the stars answer
I smile
and Darkness covers a thousand worlds
I wait for all beings
in the places where all fear to look
deep within
that raw, primal, ancient space
I stand
and one day…your final day
long after Death takes you…
you will see my face

Details

Outfit: Vaxer – “Sahara”

Spikes: SoliDea Folies “Cattiva”

Skin: Nuuna’s Skins – “Black Aqua”

Hair: Baiastice – “Xena”

Shoes: Shiny Things – “Oxford”

Model: Wicca Merlin

Poem: Pindar Kanya

Photographer: Daron Brandeis