Alice Makes You Wonder

( inspired by Mustard Seed Budget’s recent posts on celebrites )

“God has a plan for everybody. I look at my life and I think, ‘How is it possible that I didn’t die?’” he said. “God’s chipping away at your life all the time to try to make you more like Him. That’s what a Christian is, a person that’s being molded and shaped all their life. I think the Lord expects you to do your best in His name. I had to struggle a long time about rock and roll. I realized it’s not really the music. It’s what’s being said with the music. So I think you have to be careful of what you’re writing, what you’re representing.”

Vincent Furnier  became shock-rocker Alice Cooper




Ω Gothic Postcard Ω

Dear diabolic debutante / Spawn of the unfathomable abyss of blackness / Daughter of dreadful dead desire / Black-shrouded sinister sister of celestial gloom before whose imperious gaze the heavens fall silent / Whip-lash girl-child of the graves whose pallid visage kindles the myriad infernal fires / Autocratic vampiress of lunar doom whose winding-cloth enfolds the thousand horrors of blood-drenched nightmare / Thou that wanderest the cypress-crested hills of funereal necropolises / Whose icy glance cracks the ungraven tombstones of utter desolation / Empress of night and madness / Who stalks the locked and shadowed hallways of unhallowed thought / Whose burial-boat glides the still waters over Lethe’s silent depths to the unglimpsed isle of eternal mourning / Whose parapets tower above the fiefdoms of quotidian banality / Whose flying buttresses overlook the Stygian waters of the forgotten drowned denizens of damnation / Whose unshackled dungeons open to worlds of regal splendor / Whose spires pierce dark skies where oblivion buries the ruined cities of revelry under the drifting clouds of leaden time / Oh maiden of melancholic alchemy whose petrified passions transmute base metal into pure gold…

May the gibbous moon of equinox shine its baleful eye upon you; may you tread in sacramental calm the winding starlit paths of somnolent cemeteries; may my unmixed metaphors unveil in delirium their parabolic mysteries before the smoldering altar of your uninterpretable allegory; may the favor of your scorn forever lay me out, embalmed, undead, on the cold stone of merciless reality. Behold: in cryptic script of spectral apparition, in tracery of coded illumination, amidst the dawning rays of torment I write thine unknown name on the threshold of daylight. And from within the mortared wall of self I speak forth from my sepulcher the Sibylline utterance, unsought, unheard, undreamt:


Circe offers the cup to Ulysses, Waterhouse

♣You Again ♣


A face in the chamber –  I couldn’t connect it

Like Dante’s Beatrice, beatific in black

Loquacious you weren’t.  But I’ve come to expect it

How lovely to see you – it threw me off track.

As the summer deceases and winter approaches

Let casting of shadows be gone from your art.

Lighten up, dark enchantress. Your coldness reproaches.

Oh pull out the dagger you’ve stuck in my heart!

Will another bad sonnet, addressed to your highness

Suffice to start thawing the frost in your soul?

Ennobling it isn’t – this taciturn shyness…

Vampire girl – be a sociable witch;

Even necrophiles hope for a smile, or a twitch.

Never fear. Not your corpse, just your friendship’s my goal.

♥ V.D. 1999 ♥


Horror of horrors!   Dark lady,  it’s you again

Abbess of shadow and sinister sprite.

Pray show me, sweet Nelida, how to express myself:

Passion?   Pure malice?    Or murder by fright…

You opened the dungeons where dreams slept desireless

Vanquished my sleep of misogynist night.

A sepulchral shudder enlivens my being:

Liquescent infernoes of Gothic delight.

Elevation celestial or depths of despair –

No middle to stand on beholding your visage

The firmament drops as I swing in the air.

In this fall, or this orbit, show mercy, bright maiden

Nor quench solar fires with lunar disdain.

Eclipsing at zenith, you blacken my brain.