THE MAP OF BLOOD (an esoteric ballad of 650 lines)

the shores burned red, the ruby waves
as coiled in cold as running graves;
the sea furled round, the ruby oars
as coiled in cold as open doors.

down from love, the whalers sprang
a manic kiss from out death's bang;
the sea furled round, the ruby oars
as coiled in cold as opus maws.

this is the ocean's word of proof,
the nitric sum, the artist's tooth;
no man may enter in through dream
except through waves of congered scheme.

the shores burned red, the ruby waves
as coiled in cold as jesu slaves;
the sea furled round, the ruby oars
as coiled in cold as open doors;

so too, this earth of fire and flame
can only warp its zero fame,
and so the summer under drum
must weal to birth away its son.

this is the world, the likeness of
no mother child may cede to god;
so too, the winter in the rose
must weal to birth away its lobes.

the sun shone thick, the metal mind
as coiled in earth as judas brine;
the nitric whisper under soul
as moiled in surf as judas coal,

thus from the moon, the sickle cell
of brain and bren in endless belle
shot forth the locks of priested doom
and racked the heart with stolid tomb.

cobweb is mine, so too, the clave
of wicked riches in red cave;
the menstrual slick, this oiling fold
as furled in seed as sadie's mould;

the ark of lud is christian cud,
each way to see, a scheming mister;
no child may peer behind the blood
enough to savour mary's whisper.

thrice from hero, thrice from heaven,
thrice the climb of theorems seven;
thrice the saw, thrice the hand,
thrice the butcher in god's hand -

underwave, my birth was plenty,
undergrave, my birth was empty,
underwave, my birth lay crocked,
undergrave, this earth is locked.

ingot fuelled in prismed waters,
the seance turner bears dead daughters,
the sun rucks up, the moon throes down,
the stars deny and rape the town

and such was love in clays of semen
light struck christ and raved forever,
the world at zero babbling maternal,
as endless as the clock eternal.

sidereal widow of the worthless child,
blasted crypt of the scissor in the wild,
what for the ship of eden's serried grave;
what for the sentinel wrapped in stave?

undermortar, the coded fist of death
raps with the tithes of the charted breath,
no lore to tweeze, no thunder petalled under,
nor any dream to raze as hedons sunder.

the collicle of the chapel in the moon
has birthed no life since light saw bloom;
each way we see, each seized eye blown
must warp the night to move the stone.

as much as bows must slit the thames,
this graveward scat must never end,
nor any sphere of easter proving man
go roundabout to prove love's lamb.

the seed of self, this selfward blizzard,
as old as wealth, must shape its wizard,
each winnowed whim of woman gone
as cold and furled as hate's horizon;

and petra in the book of blood
shall go to prove no sainted love,
nor any ship gone ravelling by
forsake the heart of judas sky .

look, for love must wane no more,
see, for love must wage no war,
seek, for love must wane forever,
find, for love denudes its pleasure,

shape, for love must know no peace,
break, for love must sheave the east,
rape, for love must live to die,
shake, for love shall know no lie.

the sun shone up, the moon shone down,
the ocean's whimper broke the town,
the western veil of moons gone over
dictating light to summer's solder;

the candle wax of seas gone deaf
melted water with love's theft,
the western veil of moons gone over
dictating death to winter's motor.

no man may see the way to live,
no woman might disprove her end,
no child may seek the way to give,
nor any victor seal love's rend -

the motile planet in the tides
has eighteen gifts, all dead as eyes,
its orbit, pared to share with none
each golden dreamer on the run.

death is theft, theft is duality,
dual is the mind in the church that thrals;
so too, this world of stealed reality
duels with the brain in its metal halls,

the stall of crime has no more proof
of any mind than death in truth;
so too, the ark of endless vision
has endless death in truth's division.

the sun boiled brown, the ticking heart
a time-bombed mentor of red art,
the moon boiled black, the ticking breath
a time-bombed mentor searing theft,

each way to live is life sold old
and every cellar knows life's role;
the sun blew up, the moon turned round,
the bomb of fusion broke the ground;

so too, the endless heart of nothing
must strike away the christian coming.
the sun blew up, the moon turned round,
the bomb of fusion broke the ground

the sun blew up, the moon turned round,
the bomb of fusion broke the ground.
the sun blew up, the moon turned round,
the bomb's delusion made no sound. ...

the womb boomed, the occidental quest
as bowed in blood as a thooming bell,
the moon rucked east, the western womb
as bowed in bed as a spectral well,

then down, down went the regal chancers,
dark as the dream that set light to the stars.
the moon rucked south, the womb of nests
as boned in the mud as a deck of cars.

the word of the will is cellular maiden,
the bird in the mill is delicate lust;
the collicle dance of the man in lance,
dark as dreams, as real as rust.

and on went the cruise of the follicle womb,
down, down, down, dreadsome as the coast,
each weal of christ, an occidental heist,
flailing at the seal of a rocksidental roast.

so the heart is endless as an emery
this enemy world, a doctored state of schemes.
down, down, down went the seagull town;
down, down, down went the clown of dreams.

world under world, zeroed into penury,
blue as the duck in the mantle-raping bone,
rocked in the knock of the seizured stars,
man in manna parish spiels away the stone,

and law is taken and haloed wars are waged
and war is taken and heroed laws are scorned;
so too, the womb, as endless as the caged,
spirals to nothing, cold as words forewarned.

and down, down, down went the major seed,
and down, down, down went the minor seed,
and down, down, down went the labial need,
and down, down, down went the saviour's run.

deep in the darks of the all-too-endless ark,
proctored in the bread, sweat thrals on;
dives dig out, drugged as mary's rout;
deep in the darks, the womb throes wrong.

dark as the deed in the undertaken weed,
proctored in the mouth, brine's heroes rill;
and down, down, down goes the town,
as maimed inside as a window-sill.

this is the earth, so learn to live it;
this is the curse, so learn to crib it;
this is the son, the moon, the rain;
this is the earth, the stippler's vein.

endless as the creature's grieving
in the axe of orbits under snare,
flued as christ, as wedded as rice,
death to death must reap despair;

so this spine of all-too-empty thieving,
red as dead, must mediate to doom,
menstrual as the colic creak of summer,
red as dead, cruel as loving's bloom.

nailed in the field, nailed in the vein,
nailed in the sun, rapturing to nothing,
coiled in the cold as a soldered rose,
nailed in the field, the sun lies snuffing.

so the heart, so the shendless barter
of the beam in the blade of music's laughter;
so the soul, so the trendless rudder
of the ship of life in the veined hereafter.

so the spirit, so the friendless rivet
of the sick den sailor, rollering under;
so the divot, so the seed of privet
in the cruel and canyoned arc of thunder.

so the door that opens on the moor
and the soiling trip of the clitoral sine;
so the slaughter in mnethna's daughter
and the foiling trip in the brainward kine.

down, down, down, dead as a crown,
the farrier pharaoh in the meadow's break,
snickering dread as the trailing dead,
oiled the beard of the king of rape,

and real was the loss and dead was the lie
and cleft was the liver in the open eye,
and foaled as the heart of noah's arc,
down, down, down came the shended sky.

the heart is gismed into mirror,
the soul is prismed into quiver,
the mind is fissioned to incender;
so the scream, so the endless ember.

human suer, what brought thee nearer
to the drains in the art of hero's manual?
doubtless the sickle in the raging nickle
and the whirling price of the minor's sandal;

and in the dim of the vim in the skin
and the rim in the penile host,
down as the man in the song of pan,
soiled flows the holy ghost.

lift the latch, watch time spoil,
sear the thunder in the pistoned hand;
as much as man is abaddon's clan,
lift the latch, watch time moil;

as the heart is narrow in number,
lift the latch and watch love trawl;
as much as man is abaddon's clan,
lift the latch and smite the fall.

mauled, the moll of doctored duty;
beateous, the mallow in the narrow vein;
mauled, the moll of heaven's duty;
beauteous, the marrow in the narrow lane.

down, down, down goes the ship of courage,
down, down, down goes the slip of fear,
down, down, down goes the sailing marriage;
down, down, down, as silent as a tear.

the frigate that parries down to murder
chops off the hands of the man at sea;
thus the stripper in the sails of the clipper
chops off the heart and fells love's tree.

and all in all, the thraller in the stall
knows no nave but the navel's bruising,
and all in all, the thraller in the mall
knows no grave but the nave's abusing.

buried in the black, demoned in the slack,
flaccid as the queen on the stage of nails,
railed as the heron who acted hereclean,
buried in the black, vaginal as wales,

blasted in the pot of the hangman's rot,
bruted as the colt of the equine's rave,
masted as the master of funereal laughter,
blasted in the pot, the nine niles rage.

and man who is born to cut down woman,
creeled in the mane of the knacker's plea,
must glut away each seance of the day
and crack the hat of the masoned sea.

down, down, down go the mourners,
down, down, down floe the wrens,
down, down, down flow the corners
of the pinnace in the dens.

down, down, down, empty as endless,
down as the deeps, macadam flies;
down go the men, down goes woman;
down go the children in the coconut shies.

so the world is zenned in rental fortune,
dinted in bracken, dented under scud,
and music knows no end to aldebarren,
no end to the flicker in the forging bud.

streets shall know, rhodes shall know,
spaniards shall live for sordid ever;
and music knows no end to its roe,
high as the grave in the gusset's river.

drownward, townward, raveward, graveward,
stageward, latheward, rageward, braveward,
dark as the snickler in the marathon mallus,
man in macadam is as old as the phallus,

and masons who kill can only thrill
each blast of the bride in the aisle of god,
and god who comes can only thrum
deep where the rivers of the wild take rod.

deadward, redward, spreadward, shredward,
real as the loss of the spirits in the womb,
arced as the heart in the all-too-empty ark,
man to macadam is as old as woman's bloom,

and death can only stopper to seek us
as light, as red as the ring inside the moon,
sears to the breed of the bottle in the seed
and the shendless reef of the reedless tomb.
down, down, down, as old as heresy,

down to the decks in the bricked-in bone,
down, down, down, as curled as heresay,
no more the light, just breath's blue moan.
down, down, down, as old as herod,

down as the slick in the nicked-in throat,
down, down, down, as furled as hero,
no more the light, just breath's blue note.
down, as the first siege seed of weeping,

down, as the instant raper of the shore,
down, as the fist in the weevilling sinker;
all down go, as cold as judar's war.
down, as the first sick ram of reaping,

down, as the feud in the fuedal bed,
down, as the fisk in the flame of thinking
seas, this world is cold as dead.
man looks out to find andromeda

drowning speed with tendrilled moan;
so the heart of coiled angelica,
so the vice in the rhinal drome.
down as the god of gasward rumour,

drowned in the spit of the nitric sun,
coiled and curled in the spirit's humour,
townward goes the spoolward drum;
thus the spode of the wealing pagan,

blanked in fusion, serries down to nil,
knaveward as the heart of reegan,
blanked in fission, buried as the will.
motion maims the manna-reaping ocean,

oceans maim the mumma on the cliff;
knaveward as the heart of emotion,
blanked as fusion, zeroids drift.
down, down, down came the hand

of the summer in the venturer's span;
down came the law, down came the love,
endless as the map of blood.
down, down, down came the sweep

of the sphincter in the street of defeat;
down came the law, down came the love,
endless as the map of blood

down came the law, down came the love,

endless as the map of blood..

down came the law, down came the love,
endless as the map of blood.



copyright jdb 1999.     The Map of Blood covers nine whole sides of A4.

...nb: Dylan Thomas's ingenious ballad (re. The Ballad Of The Long Legged Bait) is but 217 lines in length.