cuntsukuroi

[cuntsukuroi]

some stirring thing from the great beyond

Selcouth Noctivagant of constricting briar your lambence is gossamer upon discontent twice-pleated some strange delicacy of peace found within unerring silver Hushed whisper at the edge of dawn with whose tongue can we speak of you? Hieratic king of the Orphean realm your presence is ephemeral and your gaze demanding the long quiet of your repose scarce unrelenting Blessed secret hung from a crescent moon with whose eyes can we see you? Quiet god whose presence betrays itself stranger melancholies are rarely seen than the lucid gray of your eyes thundering silence you unfurl your flight heralded on echo Silent lord who intertwines neither here nor there with what pace can we chase you? Lover of the copse where nightingales lie we murmur but scarcely know we follow the path your footsteps leave the grace of your cloak casts a shadow under which we gather Hallowed spectre gilded in folkloric silver with whose touch can we feel you? The turn of your shoulder is sculpted marble the salt crusts under your eyes you deign us with your presence you arrive a hierophant in haggard wake Unanswered secret hung upon the ives with whose mind can we tell you? Redolent monarch between the trees we know your regal stature in the twisting of the brambles something haunted you serpentine the willows cascading scales of gray-ghost and all

we do not know of you but we have seen you out the corners of our eyes when the woods are dark we content ourselves in the shape of your passing in your memory we find reassurance

[cuntsukuroi]

What sort of distant memory is this? It chases but is not caught It refuses to see itself Dimly it wanders and wonders what is and isnt What sort of silence is this? It falls and remains hushed Dark twirls of shade beam through fog A strange shiver across the spine What sort of elegy is this? We do not care to recall a pleasantry Ill-founded as it is Much we would prefer to echo some distortion A rambling tragedy that will not unspill [[I've hit a writing block/]]

[cuntsukuroi]

Hello, little lights. I've begun posting my writings on @cuntsukuroi. If you enjoy it, please let me know.

2025 Poetry Roll Call!

Let's give everyone more poets to follow in 2025! Reblog if you are a Tumblr poet!

I'll start - I'm @goneahead & I write original poetry. I also reblog other people's poems twice a day👋

[cuntsukuroi]

To You Who Returned With Stars in Your Hands

Suzerain of the brazier where jewels and jinn in violet incandescence abide yours is the glory of nighttime heroes and the tales of folk who have come and gone before us. Delighter of flowers and celestial perfumes concealed necessarily in silence through the ivory gate do we find love suffusing into sands into stars into springs bubbling in cyan light. Artist-craftsman who drinks from our hands you dress in the panoplies of your vocation you paint with crowtongue unbound you cast purple waves into the dark above you pour libations into the unseen. Dying and reviving god whose wounds bear ivy vines dripping with honey we find your work in shadows tethered to dreams your traditions name your unraveling sacred your return brings weeping of delight your loom promises your presence. Sinless king you descend from the nightwomb you are cradled in the infinite you bear the tapestry of all time. Vivifying chariots bring us your grace in the love and language of dreams where the sileni chatter and dance where they tend to the cauldron of the cosmos where they take our sins and let them bloom where our mistakes become something jeweled and something gold where our tragedies twirl in torchlight. We whose eyes are filled with tears who witness your right to sit in the garden who fall to our knees as you dance in the valley who sit in the warmth of your smile and are warmed. We gave you our love freely and found it returned thousandfold we listen as your feet stamp the reason you came we listen as you weave your rhythm into the earth with full hearts we sing your songs and listen as we would to our mothers as you bring us lessons of mirth.

[cuntsukuroi]

The Little Shiver that Makes us Human

Cobblestones and they hum beneath our feet and their memories seep through the soles of our shoes into the trees into the bark into the leaves into the sky we are pilgrims and our steps echo in the bark in the leaves in the trees in the sky. Streetlights bloom in the twilight and their amber halos cast out the darkness where they shine and they shine on our faces our hearts and our souls. A prayer and it is cast in amber and their warm arms hold the night making it gentle making it safe. We are no strangers to the dark yet the light still warms us

whispers that we still are worthy of its love.

Fog and it whispers it whispers through arches through halls into thoughts into walls it rises from the stones gracing the ground in ghostly veils a bride for the mysteries that live in the echoes of human longing in the din of human murmuring in the breath of humanity living.

A glass and it cracks as a bird calls as if the hush wished to etch itself here to say i was here i existed it was and forever is and it only wishes to be seen to be told it was and forever is.

A world and its streetlights keep memories it watches kindly and records that we were here that we existed that autumn leaves clung to our socks as we walked and that our little lives were worthy of note.

[cuntsukuroi]

A Space of Emptiness

Clattering whispers fall in upset rains upon the lonely-gray edge of faded memory where their uproar is bitter and pleading yet still they call they call they call. Footprints in the loam and their memory stings but is sung of all the same and we do not dare the chance that we forget the footprints in the loam although they are not yours or mine. Quiet wet mist dews on my hand leaving tears of sculpted marble turned in moonlight. Each drop carries a lament for that which never knew how to stay and did not want to leave. Hazy dusk through which shafts of light still reach my eyes and grace the corners of the palace where these murmurs sing without end saying nothing remembering nothing. I am no wiser for it.

[cuntsukuroi]

88 Temples

Shadows filter between lattices flicker upon forgotten existences. Distant and absent once-weavers of tales untold kneel silent at unlit braziers in solitary congregations in prayers so old moss grows at their edges. Mercy is held in the soft hollow between cupped hands and refused by time's refusal to remember yet it exists all the same. Whose feet are these that I walk with? Whose tongue is this that I speak with?

I am far away beyond the silence and beyond the shades beyond the prayers and beyond the veils.

[cuntsukuroi]

Dust the covenant

Lamps in empty halls cast long shadows into yellowed pages into ticking clocks into forgotten mourns. There is ink under my nails and they testify to battles in pages where unravelling words of threadbare lace cast themselves unto eulogy. Beyond this world is where our covenants became dust and became sighs and became naught.

You cannot hear this so I will write my goodbye and my prayer to your echoes and your absence and to you so far from now. You must be to me as a shadow that trails soft and eternal into the trembling light from whence i came.