Year of Prophecies - Eclipse edition

http://libramoon2.tumblr.com/

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.

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.

full moon anticipation

Blush peek of coyly veiled Moon

in striated cloud seafoam giant arms.

Velvet meadow.

Majestic fields cloak the sky.

Shine, Moon.

Don't be shy.

Bathe my dreams in wishes.

Conjure

exploratory vistas.

Opening Night

Empty branches yearn for

darkening breeze.

Eerie singing echoes

from the horizon.

Slower days, longer nights

made for reflection ...

And wind sings, trees dance,

stars laugh in the moonlight.

Masked Lady Moon shines

into my room,

speaks of fantastic adventure.

Dare I question her fulsome

abundance?

I a masked gypsy

painted in gloom,

a taste for wry humour,

impossible promises,

resplendent terrain.

A woman insane,

taken in by the Moon.

Fair sister, far sparkling cold.

I have no home to offer comfort

but that clear, quiet salvation

hiding like Moonlight

unmasked in my mind

Moonmirror

The many faces of the Moon

reflecting starlight in her many moods

Entrance the sky

My mortal eyes want to believe

adventures of myth and mind

Tell me, hoary elders,

rejuvenated for your fling

in sacred moonlight

Dancing from your castles

to mystic mountain

legendary glades

Tell me why I should believe

in magic, in codes and

spells and sacrifice

Is the wisdom of the wise

so constrained?

My species may be blind to

true eternity

but we mutate,

find and define

new ways to see

Belief is far too limiting

for me

Dear Sister Moon, separate entity

from birth, entwined

still with Mother Earth

Patterns re-cycling reveal

what we regard to be real

is but reflection

Face to face to face, fluid

to change

Lunation

Mist passes the Moon

as she moves through the clouds

trying to reach me

so far below.

How can I know

it is me she desires?

My mind is on fire,

moonstruck, some might say.

Flying along the Milky Way

fueled by moonshine.

She flashes her shadowy eye

through cloud-studded sky

and I feel fine.

lunacy

accept my prayer, o Luna fair

accept my sins as payment

you know I only live to serve

I offer up my truest worth

my humble feet still scraping dirt

but luxurious my raiment

as I dance and strum my mandolin

laugh and shimmy again and again

work up my mojo limb by limb

it's all for your entertainment

to laugh and howl by the light of the Moon

break the chain to sunlight's ruin

of madness fine, my holy boon

as fine as Luna's hair, as stark as Luna's stare;

beatifically embrace entrainment

swirl as moonbeams

overwhelm the air

Scrying on the Moon

By sibylline light

images I recognize,

creviced captures of my life.

I know her judgment to be my own.

"Nourished by Moon rivers

mythical cavern blooms

unseen by sunlight

glow green."

Thus she sets the scene;

becomes the prophecy.

"Purest white simplicity

curved to suggest fragility

faith fed maiden ready for

plucking,

given in bondage to womanly woes,

hard rows to hoe

for that human hug through

crying of night.

Fate of mortal soldiers, sacrificed to lust.

Seeking relief, beg for the boon of drama

high adventure

sneaking into sad hotels

for a fix or a tumble.

Laughs,

deadly play,

danger, a real chance.

Barefoot in the snow

icy roads

winds so strong

I could not make you hear.

I thought you were my destiny.

Crazy thoughts, far from clear;

but I believed

song lyrics from Saturnine deities

would not lie, leave me

dying, fading into winter's grey

drifting clouds,

endless sorrow endured for naught.

Lost on this careless corner,

dreaming of oblivion, intent on visions

like rain

tapping against eternity's

vast windowpane.

Scenic serenity.

Nature's gradations of green

soothe tired eyes,

trembling nerves, throbbing veins.

Slivers of moonlight reflect

in withered refrains, unearth secrets

embedded in song

effervescing through cool pure air

cleansing the uprising nestling

set aflame

resurrected

tempered mettle,

pure, wise, tested

engorged with the will

to rise"

The People's Bailout Nov. 15

http://www.lepoissonrouge.com/lpr_events/peoples-bailout/

The People’s Bailout, a variety show and telethon to benefit the 99%
w/ Janeane Garofalo , Lizz Winstead , Max Silvestri , Hari Kondabolu , David Rees , The Yes Men , John Cameron Mitchell , Jeff Mangum of Neutral Milk Hotel, Lee Ranaldo of Sonic Youth, Guy Picciotto of Fugazi, Tunde Adebimpe of TV on the Radio , Climbing Poetree , the Invisible Army of Defaulters , members of Healthcare for the 99% , Occupy Faith , and many more

Thu., November 15, 2012 at 8:00 PM

The People’s Bailout, a variety show and telethon to benefit the 99%

The event will be livestreamed at www.rollingjubilee.org Join Strike Debt for an updated version of an old classic, the telethon, to launch The Rolling Jubilee, a campaign that buys debt for pennies on the dollar and does away with it. Instead of collecting the debt, we will abolish it and help free the debtors!

Blessed Be

Samhainic Verse

a blast from wayback:

http://web.archive.org/web/20091027151908/http://geocities.com/libramoon.geo/cosmicpoetry.html

Full Moon reflection

Archetypes

walk city streets, ride subways as commoners --

subterranean consciousness,

ethereal siamese twin

to the everyday.

Shadow and substance

entwine as before

the invasion.

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

giving full allegiance

to any who will take that load.

There are Gods foaming in excrement

begging relief in the form

of sacrament

potent and deadly.

Angels and

Demons wage sacrosanct war,

dice from a grail

foresaging trial or comfort.

Hungry Ghosts wail.

Vampires and Creatures

of the night

seek shelter before

travails of daytime

break them.

Morning Star

winks salaciously.

In wild’s kingdom

all manner of creatures

thrive.

Eagles soar.

Lions roar.

Whales sing.

Humans open a

veiled third eye.

The World rejoices.

Gabrielle Roth: February 4, 1941 -October 22, 2012

http://uwgpsychology.org/2012/obituary-gabrielle-roth/

Obituary: Gabrielle Roth
Gabrielle Roth: February 4, 1941 -October 22, 2012


http://thaoski.com/2012/10/23/awakening-my-body-awakening-my-soul/
AWAKENING MY BODY, AWAKENING MY SOUL

"She started the 5Rhythms movement in the 1960s and dedicated over 50 years to teaching and sharing the power of movement and dance to heal ones body and soul."

Enter Dancing

That liminal space

Between my body and the airwaves

Creates a dance.

There is fluid form

There is salvation,

Thunder from the heavens,

Tears and lightening,

A host, a feast, a conflagration.

There is laughter.

The dance takes me up

In her motherly embrace,

Holds me softly,

Listens closely,

Takes in all my sorrow,

Lets me fly.

Body Language

Teach Peace

Dancing in the classroom

Body wisdom

Reaches through neural pathways

regenerates whole to whole

soul to soul

touching life

exactly

I feel you in my mind, my spine

Feel me dancing

elongating muscles

extending connections

Revelation

Weave into the fabric of a tribe of artistic dancers.

Fall under the spell of pure magic.

Silent night, peace and cold

Imbue me with music

In ecstasy, I dance to the stars.

"10 things to do to draw up creative energy"

dance

daydream

worry with logic

delve into feelings

play with words and meanings

take a play journey to impossible possibilities

web surf; idea surf; ride a wild wave

face down a demon to discover your other faces

read of random wisdom

dance!

Let us join in dance

The world becomes a mystery

an ecstasy, a history

of all who dance

for the joy

for the chance

of pure enchantment

in midst of the everyday

in this instant every wish

is granted

in the play

-- body with bliss --

of celebration

So join the song, and sing your tune

Dance strong beneath a rousing Moon

Another day, another seed

Bursts out into the Sun

Scorpio

Here at the bar again, bar nothing to me.

Here at the bar again, bar nothing to me.

Early Scorpio warm, warm village 2 pm poetry reading

at Chumley's

Searching for bargains, found a Paul Goodman book

with cat and dog and baby photographs

to give to Cindy

a gift of love for a fragile child

stranger/sister.

Still afright from last night's heavy scene

Wherein the police took my man away again,

This time with my blessing and accomplicement.

. . . A man is a hard thing.

Also a drag on my developmental aspirations

When all he does is cry and threaten

Big Brute Violence

To storm my sensibilities.

(What's frustrating is he doesn't hear me cry.)

Laughing in the park we loved

Crying in the night we parted

Oh, beseech I, god above

Why must you leave me broken-hearted

(and I know he'll be returning with more disregards

and diatribes and possibly pistols drawn to fire.)

So I sit here in the bar, again

Drinking sweet Kahlua and awaiting the poetry

Taking a respite, you see.

Oh, god, for this while,

Bar nothing to this troubled child

(for child I feel, though woman grown)

Let peace alone assail me.

Sister Scorpio

Black as hate; white and bloodless

shrieking Fury

punishing Saint.

Your patient, erratic torture

has left me broken,

bleeding torrents of pain

unable to move

forward,

unable to sleep

or engage in

polite discourse.

Yet you were never satisfied.

It was not me you wished to sacrifice.

I was merely inconvenient,

or too convenient.

Dressed in a goatsuit,

queued up to be driven to slaughter,

how could I expect compassion,

fellow feeling?

But it was the Executioner's blade

I expected,

not frenzied repetition of

back stabbings, epithets,

steel-wielding rage.

We could have been sisters,

giggling secrets in the schoolyard,

smoking pcp in the girls' room,

shooting up the classroom,

dying in each other's arms.

Scorpionic

The forest is old

obscured in ghosts and mysteries

Come out in the wild night with me

dressed in the stars

Serenades from the Moon

intoxicate air aged in adventure

Exult with me in pleasure

Far from decay of leaves, sad savagery

That strange stained light in the darkness

Silence, a pause in cycling

Isolate

Tender reflection in the settling sky

a throne to reign

weary tantrum waves below

I can relate

the deals reality baits me with

so overrated

I'm left unsated

staring at fate's rear

Now escapes me

running into future skyscapes

holding yestereves

stiff and strained

closer than this moment

as it slips

into one more

I seek that honest sigh,

that joining smile that art

of distilling meaning

Pictographs along the wheel

to distract from

its unceasing

crawl

Caught

an instant

surrounded in space

demanded in time

tells the reaper

continuity

is in the eye