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regarding gods
(in progress)
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It seems to me that these people are
mistaken
when they claim to be at war against
Satan,
because the God they worship is the
God of Evil,
Destruction, Death, and
Despair.
Yet, there are other gods with other
values.
How did this group gain so much
control over mankind?
Why do we hate our
lives?
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Pray for
Violence
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The God of Abraham
enjoys His Master tricks.
Calls Chosen men to violent
revenge against all fancied
slights.
“They’re wicked – Smite!
Pillage their villages.
Rape their disgusting whores.
Make their acres yours in My
sight,
in My glory. Give blood lust, My
rightful
gory sacrifice. Pride is My
reward
when your sons fight in My
Name.
Pride can pay the price, replace
shame.
I am no pansy, no prancing
debutante
at Papa’s ball. I am no Mama’s
man,
no Fate’s enthralled. I am the First,
the
Prime, the All.”
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Pluto's Wife/ Demeter's
Daughter
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Persephone, your will is free
Even as your living is in
bondage
to forces much older in their
power
You are free to reconcile your fractured
life
Daughter in Summer's sun
smiling warmly, playing at
innocence
with charms long practiced
Mother's Fool
Mother's Lamb
Saved from that horrible man
--
Well, joint custody
Ever Her beloved child
While it is no secret
Down below you are honored
Queen
among tortured souls ever needy of
your
attentive care
Far from noblesse oblige, it is
your
chosen career, though not chosen by
you
Are you told enough:
"You do it proud." or even
acknowledged
for the prowess your will gives
existence?
Free Will, not Free Choice
It is learning to make of the whole sad
cacophony
discrete instruments of harmony, of divine
symphony
to find, realize, act with
impeccable integrity
as child or Queen
or someone between
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Persephone's
Worlds
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I have wandered far from thoughtless
girlhood,
am woman grown, a Queen
in my own right.
Yet I am treated with the
expectations
of a mindless child
in my mother's Summer home.
The Gods are all agog with
Zeus,
fickle, abrasive, free to take full
stance
above the laws he so imperiously
commands.
My Dark King is so much more a
man,
sincere, deeply feeling, committed to his
realm,
compassionate, if not always
kind.
Yet, this season I must obey the
crowd,
display charm and grace
in haute couture, make small,
insipid
conversation with useless
socialites
decorating Zeus' lawn
parties.
Up here, life is meaningless,
All flash and doggerel
to amuse, O', do entertain
us.
So tiring to endure the
ennui.
Those not privy to opulent
entitlement,
relegated to the dregs of servitude, or
less
endure for their time, brutal, painful,
short,
for no good reason.
I hear their horrid tales,
back in my rightful place and
purpose.
Shrunken souls, shriveled by life time
hungers
still growling beyond the
grave.
I am balm and wise mother.
At last they matter, their stories opening
in me
a marvelous passageway through which they
are
taken into paradise.
My life above, the petulant
daughter,
the pampered goddess spawn,
I endure coldly.
Summer's trivialities, properly obedient
to
rituals of social condition,
know nothing of my true
calling
under Winter's glory.
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For Brigid’s
Day
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Who am i to bow to You --
me shorn of love, without
honor;
You an enduring Goddess,
long honored for your bounty
of knowledge, thought’s ground
water
poured, shared, carried
forward.
Goddess of brides,
of hope, of visions, of
poetry.
We who want a deeper future for
ourselves,
more kind, more wise,
a better definition for
humanity,
assemble on bended knees to
beg, accept, express your
beauty.
Humans alive to art,
flow of mystic cavern seas,
can synergize, can command,
manifest as Magick.
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Nyx,
Dark encircling
womb
Goddess of Night
from sacred firepit
feeds dreamers
the potency of stars'
cosmic light
concave distortion
reflecting
myth's shadow
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Andromeda
Unbound
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Primal emergent scene of
fear/betrayal/rage
Against prosaic life tuned to a simpler
age
A woman and a man and progeny of
course
A life tailored to plan, no stranger to
remorse
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So early in the days of what might hence occur
The learning of the ways of how to be are
stirred
So legends have been cast, so myths in
mist abound
As some realities are buried
underground.
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It was a cold and gilded house,
camouflaged as home
It was a brutal game of chance camouflaged
as life
Chain me to my jagged rock and let me
bleed
Let the ravage start, I will not
plead,
My tears will only flow when primed by
raging seas
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They say that life's a school, we must learn or
die
They knock into us what, where, when,
forgetting why
Each put into our place and left to wait
our turn
It's not about what we may be, but what we
earn.
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Tree-lined sidewalks, car-lined streets,
children at play
It seems so calm and peaceful, keeping
fear at bay
Do the laundry, buy the groceries, pay the
heating bills
Get it done, don't delay, no matter who it
kills.
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It was a curse hurled from the gods, but
it wasn't mine
Punishment for a crime of pride I did not
commit
Clinging to my prison door, I hide my
eyes
Expecting no pardon from the
skies
No where left to go to hide from my mind's
lies
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What can't be told infects a deep and
deadly path
Buried wounds untended surface into storms
of wrath
A beaten creature huddles beneath a
snarling face
Dying for a welcome smile, the warmth of
caring grace
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Some doors left open lead to mystic hidden
rooms
Of purple velvet drapes, plush carpets and
rare perfumes
The tapestry of life upon an ancient
wall
Or was it down a rabbit-hole you meant to
fall?
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I begged a chance to be saved, but it was
not my time
The monster's howl a hungry hound denying
rest
Lost in a tempest, finding none to
care
Petrified by my own inward icy
stare
Bound and cursed by the gods, of what use
is prayer?
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Comes the time in spiraling life of do or
die
Take the time to breathe the air, read
visions from the sky
Willing change, allowing pain to tell its
sorry tale
Rearrange the picture's frame, learn to
adjust the scale
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The rules laid down to keep us bound were
never friends
A hero's quest with divine intent can open
stories' ends
Gods inspire nature's desire for beauty,
healing, choice
Reclaiming heart, we do our part, obeying
our true voice
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Opening my eyes, raising my voice, I claim
my power
The gods respond not with violence but
with joy
Claiming my life as my own, I turn my
demons into stone
Free at last my spirit soars as
I
dance by day through sweet Olympian fields
-- by night among the stars
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Venus Guide Us to
Peace
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a meditative poem
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Not just sweetness and light
There is a strength; there is conviction
--
there is a vibrant dedication to true
worth.
If we can but believe again
in all the humane virtues --
Love is sharing,
in kindness, understanding, supportive
regard.
Love is forgiving and being
forgiven,
when it is clear that malice was not
intended
or malice has been exorcised
-- an acceptance of the positive
power
of change, of growth in
spirit.
Love is the assumption of
"we."
We are doing being going having
creating
We are able to exchange our labor,
knowledge,
possessions, positions
We are able to take in more than I -- to
synergize
our fortunes into wealth and integral well
being.
Love is not just a song -- a pretty set of
symbols
Love is a power and a glory
and an all encompassing
truth.
Love is addition and
multiplication,
not division or subtraction.
Love enriches and inspires
us.
Love is not blind, not
foolish.
Love is not denying the self or self
interest.
Love is seeing clearly, knowing
wisely,
understanding and expanding the self --
expanding outward to take in the
universe
of interconnected, interdependent
being.
Love sees the ugliness; and loves sees the
beauty.
The ugliness saddens; the beauty
invigorates.
Love is to peace as music is to
harmony.
But how are we to love in a discordant
world?
It is within us to pick out the
true,
enduring melody
to which our essential selves are tuned
--
If we but look to, listen to, open our
selves to
Venus, the Goddess of Love,
Peace, Justice, Harmony
as she manifests within us
all.
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Prometheus
Descending
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Stealing fire from the gods
was but part of a process.
Thesis, antithesis,
synthesis.
Long, complicated tales.
Heroism, challenge,
reciprocity
stamped into squirming genes,
appearing again and again
through the ages.
My father's father's father and
yours
farther and farther into
mists
of antiquity
words said, positions taken.
Complicated tales unravel
knots in temporal rewind.
We see hero/villain
rearrange, reverse,
reverently
bow each to the other.
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Who is the thief? the
victim?
What is this fire that it is
not
equally shared
among the initiates
who understand the
requirements
of its power?
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Earth
Goddesses
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Ceres, mother of the Earth
Athena, of cerebral birth
Juno, queen of all the gods
Vesta, pure against all odds
Virgo woman, faith bequeaths
you,
standing proud amongst your
sheaths.
Cunning service, gifts of
grace,
in all fields is your place.
Virtue’s reason, mind and
soul,
You plant the seed. You help it
grow.
You till the soil and prune and
weed.
You are the soil. You are the
seed.
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A snow-white light on field's
relief
reflects upon divine belief.
The image of a wishful star:
A steady shine -- but still so
far.
The nights of hope; the days of
pain.
And on and on, that old
refrain.
We are the lung, the gut, the
spleen.
We are all we've known, foretold and
seen.
We are the truth that marches
forth,
boldly speaks, rebukes false
swords.
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Ceres in
Regalia
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Call in the harvest
My Lady awaits (impatient
is She,
as all Immortals)
She sends cauldrons for
tribute
on chariots of Moon lace --
dervishly risqué
stars sparkle celebration
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We humbly attend, extend
ardent service. Gaily bless Sun and
Earth,
nature’s noble accord.
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Welcome Grand Goddess!
Indulge in dulcet fruits and
glories
from Your largesse devotees’ labor hath
wrought.
Love and Work
in pure adoration,
Her most gracious bestowals, our
holiest
of offerings.
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Churches
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These myths about crosses, holy water,
Christian artifacts, are in some
sense amusing.
Such short-sighted arrogance these
Christians expose.
Our kind greatly predate The
Christ.
I have been told that some still walk who
worshipped at the feet of our dark
Lord’s bride.
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Persephone, when she toured this world
would take succor from such acolytes
in Her secret night rites.
Children of the God of Death and
Transformation, we are born in intimate
blood ritual.
We are damned with immortality to
experience Hades on Earth.
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Mercury
Trickster
lithely larfing pixels and
waves
Happy adventure
creating mayhem silly and
brave
wandering worlds, leaping
between
with the flick of a dial
bringing a soul feeding smile
to the lips of a beaten down
child
slyly ass-kicking evil
demeanors
dancing outside the scene
to quicksilver change
flickering out of range
of censor or brute
soldier or suit
to give 'em the boot
when their attention is taken
up in their infernal machine
Immortal mixer
in our mundane affairs
playing at musical chairs
or the game of the day
unattached to our daily cares
merry and gay
spreading that sunny
moonshine
then dancing away
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Athena's
Valentine
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Athena fair
stalwart daughter of Zeus
graces her time and place
with divine knowledge.
Today unlined face,
silken hair,
robust yet fragile form
are proclaimed as the graces
of womanhood.
Athena, lost in the pantheon,
whispers to the nightears
of her faithful,
saying: "True woman's mind
inclines to wisdom."
But Daddy's girl
wants more recompense
for loneliness.
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Gaea's laughing
silly antlike
scavengers
groomed in
self-importance
never see the joke
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Eve of
Hecate
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As we approach the 13th of
August
August celebration of the Dark Moon
Goddess
under the light of this August Full
Moon
Aquarius bears the Water, carries the
way
along the electro-virtual
waves
shining Moonlight, Faery Queen or fabled
harlot
stirs potent night blooms, expelling myths
of
what we cannot bear, cannot
overcome
Feel in the electric falling
starlight
Spells of renewal, of power to look
back
upon our falterings, to find the seed now
grown
yet changing still and ever,
able,
willing, co-creating in the illuminated
shadow
invoking the peace of dissolving
twilight
of midnight's hopeful
resurrection
of the hinting flame that lightens before
the dawn
take peace into each breath, each
incantation
from the strength to align
impeccably
with your deepest truth
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chalice
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An empty chalice, open, to be filled by
spirit's essence, placed according
to ritual, waits for its
turn.
Goddess of so many duties, so many eras,
so many sorrow-filled worshippers,
She feels the tears, the
emptiness.
"I cannot fill you. I can not fill the
chalice of emptiness. That is not
my gift or purpose. I can offer only what
is already within you."
Almost quiet, sea sounds, dank odor of
lowtide, creeping Spring carries melt
of harsher climes. She stokes the fire to
remember warmth when the Sun was
high and strong, and present. Fire has
its own secrets, its own order. As
do we all, each our own furnace, nurturing
a flame that is destiny. So old,
She has been burnt by many flames --
blistered, scarred, hardened. She
still feels every one, tastes fiery spice,
seasonings, marinades. It all
moves Her to cackling hysteria. You don't
want the pain of knowing what She
endures. You just want soothing stories,
fantasies to believe in.
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She understands your fear, and withdraws.
No need to escalate sorrow. She
is self-contained in her work and
close-knit layers of exquisite aeons,
sense memories, distilled
lives.
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"Was I a woman, then, upon the Earth, feeling sweet breeze of
early Spring
uplift my being when returning birds and
budlings made ready for new
beginnings?"
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In the dark, in the cold, enclosed below
that hopeful ground, stirrings
still find Her. She can not miss the Sun,
the Sky, the open fields. They
are ingrained in Her, as there and intense
as ever they could be. There is
no yesterday, no tomorrow. Always all
times, all places, all emotions,
overwhelm, yet gentle strand by strand
amuse. She has no pity. There is
only action, including the action of long
enthrallment, of stasis within
unfolding storms. There is no room for
judgment, no excuses. She sees all
the rationales, the weak flailing attempts
at blame, at justification.
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Laughter takes Her. It makes so much more
sense to revel in explosion,
expelling, cleansing for exploration, for
readiness to take the next step.
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Alchemy
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Simple acceptance.
The dancer with the dance
entering pre-dawn mystery.
Quiet interval, enchanting
music.
Undulating reverie.
Alone in Hekate's garden,
breathing in memory
of jasmine and spice.
Weary roads traveled
crossroad to crossroad;
the journey continues.
Weary days have found
sustenance
in secreted hovels, dimestore
romance.
Convoluted talk, empty
gestures,
soul-less ritual
take up the stitches of time.
Some brave midnight,
if I learn my lessons well,
I will eat the fruits of Hekate's
garden,
dancing in piquant reverie,
leaving my tears and anguish
along the windswept trail.
Ebullient music
dances me
as the Goddess kisses
my tearstains into
gold.
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The fact that there are so many
religions, so many "gods," so many
interpretations of what to believe
makes it clear that no one group has "The
Truth". We each see our little part of
the whole. Rather than insist on
converting others to our "Truth," we
would do better to spend our time
looking further.
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