C.L.Lloyd

the poetry.

spiritual poetry

  • McQueen

    When Alexander McQueen said,  give me time and I’ll give you a fucking  revolution, I felt that.  I felt the latches unlock from their  gates one, by one, by one.  Magick made a vision for me.  The moon took time in its hands  crushing it into stars, and kissed  my little forehead just so.  Every plane… Read more

  • Make Me Virgil

    Time has a way of gifting its victories, like sunlit garden kisses, sweet with finally, finally, after an age-long dance of longing.  Time, make me Virgil. See me toil in the soil of words, black with the wet of lands that shallow hands will never know, ever.  Key holder, astral pirate, bring me Keats bones, let me converse with Claudel, how she held the… Read more

  • BE AMARANTH

    So, it begins. From here, I’ll write bold and mighty, wringing the turning cloth of my sacred robe, until Magick sings my name. My kingdom’s worth its weight in gold, here, and on the astral. I’ll whisper the keys that unlock doors youcould never dream, I’ll run my scythe over the bits that have become… Read more

  • Azure blue

    Pass through into night, as the moon rests on the azure blue petals of flowers that open to greet you. Oh, isn’t it you?Master of Thebes, who walks amongst the living, speaking strange enchantments into the hearts of men still unknowing. Khepri turns the globe, glowing smooth up the howling East. Pleasure, joy rapture in… Read more

  • How Much Rage It Takes To Be This Soft

    Do you crave my wisdom like the salt sea air? Full of ancient riddles, knowing forgotten lands, thick with symbols of the first night on earth. Before the dawn broke and the battles waged, before the relief of light. When you thought fear only lingered in the dark. Before your heart jumped at the shadows… Read more

  • No God Wants This

    What is there to say? Chaos is nature’s true name. Man has forgotten the sun and  Taken for granted the golden rays.  People murder each other in the name of gods.  Clinging to their rosary beads and books of myth.  Afraid to whisper the truth, no god wants this. Read more

  • Fashion and furniture.

    I decorate my apartment with words Fashioned like antique furniture. Hanging verbs in frames, catching Light on golden chandeliers. I wear language like a tulle skirt, Twirling tussled words into fabric, Weaving colorful realities round My fingers like jeweled rings. I am a walking poem, A raving manifesto, A kaleidoscope scribe, Spinning words into the… Read more