Guillotine Glamour . . . EXPLOSION!

Preface

This poem appears in my forthcoming book, SPIRAL OMNIBUS, available 11 / 11 / 25.
The next post will be about what it actually takes to self‑publish—and a little more about the book itself (with a link to the Amazon release, naturally).

This one is a genuine ritual poem, written in trance, not edited for cleverness or polish.

What do I mean by trance?
Without revealing the particulars of my private praxis—because some things must stay between the body and the gods—let’s just say it involves six‑plus hours of dancing, singing, the rite itself, and wine. Somewhere around the third glass and fourth hour, language stops obeying and begins confessing. The poem simply arrives, uninvited and unstoppable.

No, I don’t film it. It’s not for spectators.
It’s what happens when breath, rhythm, and intoxication agree to write the same line.

The answer to the riddle on the main blog page is . . . Madame Guillotine.

Guillotine Glamour - - - > EXPLOSION

one day I'll meet His gaze
that timeless Skull-King: Glove
ensuring through the haze
you'll feel the pull, above

we live a life creating
sensing that ticking clock
knowing when flame's abating
we succumb to the Dark knock

girl has a scene in mind
borne from winning cards
A low death she would find
not worthy of fellow bards

she carves a wooden altar
sprouting a vertical blade
reminiscent of the falter
that comes from life remade

we cum into the vessel
we’ll petit mort into it
the seed begins to nestle
our girl transmutesss through it

she released an etchèd blade
then blew up the starry sky
blood spilling from the laid
a new gift unto the Eye

Winks and curtsys—Majeye

♪ “People think That We’re Strange” by Television Personalities ♪

Thank you Oscar!