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Divination
Tonight, the quiet sleep of
Heaven
blankets tenderly, affirms bliss
as promise.
Angel song, encoded blinks of
highest aspiration, leaps,
wafts kissed smiles, clear skies.
Peace shimmers.
Long, piteous, songs of buried
shame, spite and spittle flung like pennies;
flagrant frenzied relief upon
unclean graves...
Who makes this call? Who
answers?
Tonight crows, patient vultures
stand at crossed walls; they
have no leader.
Standing, too, are mute
trumpeteers, stranded infantry.
Twilight, trace forecolours of
dawn, silence deepens,
counterstroke to what is to
come.
“Strike!” Bold reds, bloodied
swords brand these walls
seen crumbling as light
extends.
When All
Fails
And it’s always on to the next
adventure.
Random leaves flicker roads of desolate
neglect
trod and cried
over.
Fallen, dark quicksand depths,
flight essential for survival.
Frozen wings, sudden sparkling cold
traps damp, unforgiven.
Bent below, tramps
expecting handouts,
bankers expecting deeds,
women expecting hollow
forcomings.
There is no easy fantasy. Tales of fates
and
magics
lie on quantum desperation, haunted
nights.
Winter always lurks on Spring’s
horizon.
Keep moving; keep life singing, gyrating for
warmth.
The road long saturated with evil, rise
above.
Learn, grieve, abandon.
Envision grander hope, shining spire
beckoning.
Jung and
Yang
Archetypes, subterranean schemes,
walk city streets, ride subways as
commoners.
Shadow of Substance.
Ethereal siamese twin,
to the mundane, every day.
I long to tell you,
yearn so I loudly whisper,
but only if you really
listen.
I cannot say these things
twice.
Memories seep through,
acquire form.
Stand straight and true
as soldiers or Marines
swearing full allegiance
to any who will take that
load.
There are Gods foaming in
excrement,
begging relief in the balm
of sacrament
potent and deadly.
Angels and Demons wage sacrosanct war;
dice from a grail
foresage trial or comfort.
Hungry Ghosts moan and wail.
Vampires and beasts
of desperation
seek shelter before
travails of daytime
break them.
Morning Star
winks salaciously.
In wild’s kingdom
all manner of creatures
thrive, entwine as before
the invasion.
Eagles soar.
Lions roar.
Whales sing.
Humans open
veiled third eye.
Spell
In
Focus certainty
laser pure energy
intimate presence
ultimate sacrifice
Commit!
Submit to desire’s
vast encompassment.
Draw the circle.
Say the words that bind
to time and place expected.
Accept responsibility for
all creation inspires.
Ground with grand
incantation.
Power is belief.
Drumming in a Different
Circle
Limbs, core, Limbic awareness
Drums of my circle hold tight; shared
stories magnify the night,
chant rhythm through my day, embrace of safe
vibration.
Aid to meditation, listen in.
Beneath my skin, blood flows to jungle’s
beat.
Quantum entanglement dance,
essence of tumbling trance taught by
memory.
Soft sets the Sun as I stumble the shady
side of street.
Terrified I might meet circles a’sway to
violent drums.
Chaos of charismatic voices
churning
carriers of variant choices. Not kind. Not
my kind.
Traveling alone, rhythm revives my inner
song,
touching ground alive with
cadence of home.
If the sky could, it would dream of
stars nova bright raining through galactic clouds.
Move inward
as Sunlight descends.
Cob-webbed lantern, too weak to flame,
forgotten among rusted childhood trains, stranded
tinsel,
abandoned hero’s fantasies.
Sharp cries, wilderness
passing.
What is not foreseen, not
written
for screen or stage,
can reveal
unclaimed aspiration,
changing horizons.
Inhale
Chatty stream of energy
breaking news, ideations, elegant
cloud formations
tip of the lip to the ear. Endear or
outrage.
So many unpleasant
faces
ruin a beautiful view.
Angry reds, too many bruises,
instead of cool blues,
pleasing balm easing with
calm.
Deep inebriation of oxygen,
enlivening
wind delivered to
exhale
on wings of whistling
intentions set wild.
Love is not about
seamless melding
perfection to
perfection,
but all those cracks, crags,
crevices
hoping (aching) to be
filled.
sangfroid
Hunger too
redundant for horror.
Each night
to feed wrapped in repugnancy.
Hidden,
alone, hunting streets of death.
No hope,
nothing legitimate.
Days
escaped in self-made darkness
without
relief of dreams, blocking memories,
enduring.
Creature
of these streets, cold, abandoned,
preternaturally cruel, air of sulphur, tar,
pain of
rot sans remorse or resolution,
unnatural
world without end or warmth.
Even when
blood runs hot into aching jaws,
pallid,
empty,
no warmth
penetrates.
Nights go
nowhere.
More
filth, horror
too
familiar to offend
solitary
hunters crowding all the secret places.
There is
no exit here
No sweet release of sleep, no prayer to
soft salvation.
There is only dead degradation of
soul.
Not possibility, no properties of love or
fond relation.
Trial of existence with no useful
expression, no expiration.
Yet in this ceaseless horror, in this
carnal Hell,
in this my filthy home, cold, without
mercy,
in this cage of unrelenting
dark,
a spark, a circle of red and black calls
to enter.
Here, where awareness centers, threads of
rotten vein
play at art, at shocking
beauty.
Ignitiation
We willingly expose,
offer blood and agony.
Sacrificial phoenix, a’blaze
upon charred altar’s
throne.
Seared eyes, scalded
tongues;
bitter acid drips to
anoint,
to hallow, to invoke,
again and again to
approximate
perfection.
Each coronation marked,
perfume of condensing
steam,
carnate fluids.
We surrender hope,
our innocence, familiarity,
for the freedom wisdom
implies.
Loosened grasp on
mortality,
slipping digits still desperate to
hold
the next piece of the code.
Power – so slender, so sleek and
bare,
essential,
air that moves worlds.
Burn raw, pure, to feel
beyond
what thought could imagine, to
know.
Turning
Golden night rises above
high fields of fallen
seed.
Aglow, spirit of Pan
serenades
romance, lust, lingering hope of
thrill and release.
Amorous nymphs a’hum in ripe
foliage
answer in bleating rapture
--
chirrups, nightwings;
mingled weeping and merry
cries
slowly reveal
stragglers on night
shores.
Legends these hoary voices
echo
kiss and tell, and merry
on.
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