Monday, December 6, 2010

poetic unlicense

A pox o’ the thoughts…


By twisted tree and rotten stem
At the dank end of a deadly winter
In the darkness before the dawn
The eleventh hour
A moment before birth
It is here
Not in the depths of frozen winter
It is now that is most dangerous
Most potent
In the silence between heartbeats
Anything is possible
The wheel turns
Inexorably forward
What goes around; really goes around!

Fresh, hot and warm
The predators swarm
One inch to the right or left
Life or death
Sink or swim
Take the bait and die
Or lie perfectly still

By the deadly dance of Samsara
Awareness ensnared
Perception translated
Death is my ally
I see in the shadows
What the light hides from me
I rise and fall
In the inexorable rhythm
Not a ghost of a chance
To untangle the web
That has caught my attention
To break the spell
That fascinated me
And fastens me here.

Old, stale and cold
The predators hunger
They lay the bait
Liars in Wait
Masxim in the old tongue
Seven they wait
Vigilant and unstoppable

By moonless night and misty veil
Ancient guardians of the gates
True names unknown
But functioning all as well
By the pallid and mystic dream
That haunts us all
‘Till we screaming
Send away that which must not be
So we can find peace
Or as Odin
Take up the truth screaming
And make it our own
The ghost is the chance
To remember.

Vague and distant it stirs
In me it stirs
The bait reminds us
Forward we rush
In the spark of memory
Excitement compels us
To fall prey

It is the ghost that reminds us
And every anomaly
And every vague half baked tale
Awakening us
Quickening our awareness
And we rush forward
Where else would the predator lie in wait
Save where we are sure to hurry
And still the ghost
Not in heaven or hell
But walking the broad thoroughfares
Of our beloved world
Alive and well
Not dead at all.

Deep in the well of my Gnosis
The Spark compels me
Strangely ensnared
They need my Attention
I need my Attention
Round and round we go
We go.

Woe, woe, woe unto man on account of his thoughts
That are as stones weighing him down
As stones grinding his bones…

Dea Phoenix


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