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@poems-for-abel
poem credits to @poems-for-abel
character credits to me
panel art meanings comic soon!
Edit: Panel 1: the death of Abel Panel 2: Cain’s obsession with an imaginary friend, Perfect Boy, who later lead him to create a husband in his image Panel 3: Abel and the sunset Panel 4: Abel and his favorite lamb, Veykh Panel 5: Cain’s first murder, a swan, and Perfect Boy’s encouraging of the death of Abel
Everyone, look at this!!! Amazing art!!!
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poem credit to @poems-for-abel
OMFG I can’t believe it! This is beautiful. I am honored.
All gods who receive homage are cruel. All gods dispense suffering without reason. Otherwise they would not be worshipped. Through indiscriminate suffering men know fear and fear is the most divine emotion. It is the stones for altars and the beginning of wisdom. Half gods are worshipped in wine and flowers. Real gods require blood.
Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God (via corpius)
And I gave my heart to know wisdom, and to know madness and folly: I perceived that this also is vexation of spirit. For in much wisdom is much grief: and he that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow.
Ecclesiastes 1:16-18, King James Version
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My sister and I are cooperating to write a chapbook of poems about Cain and Abel -- a radical retelling of the story -- and I just wanted you to know how much you've inspired me. Your poems are stunning. Incomparable.
Oh wow! Thank you so much, you have no idea how very happy you made me right now! Really!
5
i. abel says the pilgrimage happens in the body. it’s something about soft blue veins, about the end of the line in islands we can never see, shoulders made of sand, the fire of god on your tongues.
ii. lines we pull from the hands of angels, ‘there is nothing so dark in nature, cain, are you sure those, those are your eyes?’ we speak the words before language. you spit poetry like berries, poetry like a dead dove that came back.
iii. you say these are not wrecks, these are hands. but ‘body’ is lost, do you remember? do you remember what mother told us ‘flesh’ mean? you cover my mouth, you say god lives.
iv. you say god is what’s still with us of that pigeon. ‘no, not only the image, cain. this’ and then you touch my chest and i listen. when earth is something of a mouth, eating bodies like clay, music like this will be only myth. only magic stuck in throats of sinners.
5
i. abel says the pilgrimage happens in the body. it’s something about soft blue veins, about the end of the line in islands we can never see, shoulders made of sand, the fire of god on your tongues.
ii. lines we pull from the hands of angels, ‘there is nothing so dark in nature, cain, are you sure those, those are your eyes?’ we speak the words before language. you spit poetry like berries, poetry like a dead dove that came back.
iii. you say these are not wrecks, these are hands. but ‘body’ is lost, do you remember? do you remember what mother told us ‘flesh’ mean? you cover my mouth, you say god lives.
iv. you say god is what's still with us of that pigeon. ‘no, not only the image, cain. this’ and then you touch my chest and i listen. when earth is something of a mouth, eating bodies like clay, music like this will be only myth. only magic stuck in throats of sinners.
4
i. he traded drops of blood for a mouthful of earth in paradise. we hid seeds under the leaves we slept on. abel was too good to deal with anything less than clingy clouds. he had too many fingers just to prove god couldn’t count.
ii. i plucked the feathers of wild birds fallen dead because they looked at angels for too long. beautiful creatures are suspicious of delayed reverence. vanity tastes like bloody knuckles. like hearts stopped with a glance that unmakes the breath of god. such unholiness in the offspring of a sacred father.
iii. i was always the savage one. bound to land, i knew every hole, i traced maps on dirt, without looking. abel liked how i imitated creation. he was the one who said magick first. he was the one who saw the burnt bits of my tongue rubbing against god’s directions. mother and father grew blind in pain and misunderstanding. but we got it right. god knew what he was doing the second time around.
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Ricardo Bellver Fallen Angel #lucifer #sculpture
4
i. he traded drops of blood for a mouthful of earth in paradise. we hid seeds under the leaves we slept on. abel was too good to deal with anything less than clingy clouds. he had too many fingers just to prove god couldn't count.
ii. i plucked the feathers of wild birds fallen dead because they looked at angels for too long. beautiful creatures are suspicious of delayed reverence. vanity tastes like bloody knuckles. like hearts stopped with a glance that unmakes the breath of god. such unholiness in the offspring of a sacred father.
iii. i was always the savage one. bound to land, i knew every hole, i traced maps on dirt, without looking. abel liked how i imitated creation. he was the one who said magick first. he was the one who saw the burnt bits of my tongue rubbing against god's directions. mother and father grew blind in pain and misunderstanding. but we got it right. god knew what he was doing the second time around.
3
i. the land was one. salted water closed us in; the only form of claustrophobia we’d ever known. it seeped into our rivers. it formed puddles on the back of our mouths that we never swallowed. (AND HE CALLED THAT THIRST)
ii. mother and father laid dressed in god-made garments. they stood among light-colored rock, and we fed them. our long arms, our sunbeaten eyelids, our obsidian bones. eve was a picky eater. adam chewed seeds and meat, and apple juice ran from the corner of his lips. hunger was the unintended gift. (VORACIOUS AT THE END, LIKE GOSPELS AND LOVE)
iii. you said my golden hair kept clinging to your fingers somehow, mixed with lamb’s blood and marrow. we slept under moving stars, until you prayed they’d just stop, please. god indulged you - or so you thought. (HE WAS FEEDING YOU FOR SLAUGHTER, WE JUST DIDN’T KNOW)
iv. in the end, god drew a letter on my arm, so to keep me safe. all fruit from eden could not have erased how that tasted. (GOD USED TO WALK THE GARDENS, NOW HE’S SEEN WHAT WE DO WITH PROXIMITY)
3
i. the land was one. salted water closed us in; the only form of claustrophobia we'd ever known. it seeped into our rivers. it formed puddles on the back of our mouths that we never swallowed. (AND HE CALLED THAT THIRST)
ii. mother and father laid dressed in god-made garments. they stood among light-colored rock, and we fed them. our long arms, our sunbeaten eyelids, our obsidian bones. eve was a picky eater. adam chewed seeds and meat, and apple juice ran from the corner of his lips. hunger was the unintended gift. (VORACIOUS AT THE END, LIKE GOSPELS AND LOVE)
iii. you said my golden hair kept clinging to your fingers somehow, mixed with lamb's blood and marrow. we slept under moving stars, until you prayed they'd just stop, please. god indulged you - or so you thought. (HE WAS FEEDING YOU FOR SLAUGHTER, WE JUST DIDN'T KNOW)
iv. in the end, god drew a letter on my arm, so to keep me safe. all fruit from eden could not have erased how that tasted. (GOD USED TO WALK THE GARDENS, NOW HE'S SEEN WHAT WE DO WITH PROXIMITY)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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2
cain had a funny job to do getting his fingernails dirty with ash of beasts and centaurs which were smarter than god abel was idle he killed with clean hands he collected bones he hid where his brother liked to sleep he made rope, but it was only too soon: betrayal was still to be dawned upon christ was a tree, a magical man buried in wood cain had a sick feeling about lambs being crushed to death he liked it abel had a taste of remorse on his lower lip he thought naming the pretty necks he had to maim was the only absolution possible cain had a dream abel had a premonition god was gone in the ninth day and eve gave birth to other children
John Collier, Lilith
