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Damnant Quod Non Intelligent
In shadows cast by the unlit corridors of knowing, They condemn what slips through fingers of comprehension, Words entwined in vines of uncertainty, Damnant Quod non intelligunt, the silent chant.
A labyrinth of misunderstood whispers, Confinement in the narrow alleys of judgment, Echoes reverberate in chambers of ignorance, The disoriented stumble on uneven ground.
Disaffection blooms in the garden of misapprehension, Petals of understanding fall, unclaimed, Faces etched with the weight of unspoken judgments, A disquieting tapestry woven with threads of conjecture.
Locked in the dungeon of shallow understanding, Truth stands as a specter, veiled and obscured, While minds strain against invisible tethers, Condemning the unfamiliar to the prison of dismissal.
In this landscape of fractured cognizance, They condemn the foreign, the uncharted, Yet beneath the surface of their certitudes, A sea of undiscovered worlds ebbs and flows.
Damnant Quod non intelligunt, a refrain of caution, For in the realm of the unknown lies the genesis, Of compassion untold, of bridges unbuilt, Where understanding might yet unfurl its wings.
Church of the Damned. Model: Olinka Lickova
Olinka in the Church of the Damned
In the Church of the Damned, where shadows dance,
Olinka stands, exalted, a spectral trance.
Above the dark demons and undead wail,
She rises, a figure in a ghostly veil.
The air, thick with a greenish swampy haze,
Creeps through the crevasses, in a spectral daze.
The rotting basilica, a haunted stage,
Its pilasters crumble in an ancient age.
Olinka’s presence, a beacon in the gloom,
A silhouette against the haunted tomb.
Her eyes, pools of mystery, deep and vast,
Hold the secrets of a forgotten past.
Around her, the undead whisper in despair,
Demons bow in reverence, a macabre affair.
As the swampy mist encircles each decayed stone,
Olinka stands, in majesty, alone.
A symphony of darkness, a spectral ballet,
In the Church of the Damned, where shadows play.
Olinka, a queen in this ethereal domain,
In haunting beauty, she shall forever reign.
Mandii posing nude by the dining room entrance. Model: Mandii Monarch
Inferno Salutation
In twilight’s grasp, two maidens fair, Virgins pure, in whispered air.
Above the flames, a ritual dance, Salutations woven in fiery trance.
Gentle flickers, embers rise, Reflections gleam in fervent eyes.
Innocence draped in sacred shroud, They tread on ground, the unhallowed crowd.
Around the pyre, secrets untold, Mystic whispers, a tale unfolds.
A dance of spirits, shadows cast, In the smoldering fire, memories amassed.
Gowned in white, a celestial grace, They twirl and weave in sacred space.
Each step a hymn, a silent prayer, In the inferno, destiny they share.
The flames, they hunger, lapping higher, Anointing the ritual with mystical fire.
Sacrifice made on this sacred night, Two souls ablaze, their spirits take flight.
As embers ascend in the ethereal night, The virgin women merge with the light.
Consumed by flames, a transcendental pyre, They become one with the celestial choir.
In the stillness, the smoldering glow, The remnants of souls, an afterglow.
A dance immortal, in the fire’s embrace, Two virgin spirits, leaving earthly trace.
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Dancers: Jenn Michelle and Crystal Nicole
