regarding gods (in progress)

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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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