Post by headhunter on May 28, 2012 7:29:47 GMT 2
Essence and Aether
Earth,
moving only by orbit
and the shifting of gigantic plates,
eternal sheets
of massive land barbarians
playing chicken on a lane
where fate has decided none will dodge.
When the dishes crash and avalanche
the listener is awakened from slow silence
in time to observe the meditative equilibrium
of the turtle patient virgin,
continually flipping
a coin with no head,
dreaming in the meadow
while the bull and goat graze.
Quartz deposits in abundance
and Sundance ceremony.
Flesh of leaf,
Flesh of beast,
Flesh of stone.
Wind patterns travel our lungs.
Chiming gaseous salts,
the trans mutative transcendence of the monarch
speaking ghost whispers in the night.
The Hierophant, sword of feathers in the sky,
shakes hands with the water bearer
to balance the scales.
His jaguar pelt grows wings,
never to be seen again.
Balloons and a basket full of sealed envelopes
with no postage and no address
lift to unknown recipients.
Future-Readers breath
no different than my own,
a happy medium for the land fish to swim.
Can you hear the butterfly’s wings
above the sound of chi’ dripping out your nose?
Westward water willingly weaves
wherever my mind’s eye will wander.
Fulfilling healing frequencies-
the pools of inner wisdom know of no draught.
High Priestess Mother Mercury,
dressed in pink and blue,
rows a seven-eagle-guided-chariot downstream,
down under, under a downpour,
where a score or more of scarabs are seen
scurrying on the sand,
scavenging scorpions in the soil,
before the eagles land.
Thunder’s applause serves
to encourage the sky’s electric eye
again and again
leaving me wondering what it is that makes me feel
so goddamned awful
for chaining these birds together
in the first place.
One alights on my shoulder,
showing me lightning in his eyes.
Now I know to free his family
and can no longer see the Mother from me.
The Moon, fully doing what it does best.
Amphibian shape-shift, a frog I become,
in order to commune with the salamanders
and discover rejuvenation’s secret.
Baked blood scorching through my veins,
melting with the basilisk is a small price to pay.
Sulphur sizzled by shadows of crimson salsa.
Remember Aslan’s mane?
No, not Aslan’s.
My own.
Running backwards through time
seven lifetimes to when I was a ram.
Horns ablaze and embers for eyes
embracing the embryonic phase.
When the bowman let loose
his fiery arrow in my direction
I become the shaft, feather, and the tip.
Only the ten fingers and mind of man
could channel an elemental out of the Sun.
Complete and combined friction manifests
Spirit.
More than white light, prayer and soul.
Harmonious, Centered, and balanced-
that which cannot be named.
Even “God” is incorrect.
Essence of myself-
if I could buy you dinner I would
on the condition you tell me of my past,
the one forgotten when I arrived
physical on this solar wheel.
Gold is not near enough
in either luminance or currencial wealth.
With that thought I set myself free.
Celestial Seraphim,
Sephiroth standing
at the Gates of Binah
Yggdrasil in full bloom.
Jupiter rising on the inside of my incisor
in spite of black holes and graey matter,
after thought lights the way
for the eternal wizard
who knows infinite chaos
better than his aura,
leaving Thoth
speechless.
-HH
Earth,
moving only by orbit
and the shifting of gigantic plates,
eternal sheets
of massive land barbarians
playing chicken on a lane
where fate has decided none will dodge.
When the dishes crash and avalanche
the listener is awakened from slow silence
in time to observe the meditative equilibrium
of the turtle patient virgin,
continually flipping
a coin with no head,
dreaming in the meadow
while the bull and goat graze.
Quartz deposits in abundance
and Sundance ceremony.
Flesh of leaf,
Flesh of beast,
Flesh of stone.
Wind patterns travel our lungs.
Chiming gaseous salts,
the trans mutative transcendence of the monarch
speaking ghost whispers in the night.
The Hierophant, sword of feathers in the sky,
shakes hands with the water bearer
to balance the scales.
His jaguar pelt grows wings,
never to be seen again.
Balloons and a basket full of sealed envelopes
with no postage and no address
lift to unknown recipients.
Future-Readers breath
no different than my own,
a happy medium for the land fish to swim.
Can you hear the butterfly’s wings
above the sound of chi’ dripping out your nose?
Westward water willingly weaves
wherever my mind’s eye will wander.
Fulfilling healing frequencies-
the pools of inner wisdom know of no draught.
High Priestess Mother Mercury,
dressed in pink and blue,
rows a seven-eagle-guided-chariot downstream,
down under, under a downpour,
where a score or more of scarabs are seen
scurrying on the sand,
scavenging scorpions in the soil,
before the eagles land.
Thunder’s applause serves
to encourage the sky’s electric eye
again and again
leaving me wondering what it is that makes me feel
so goddamned awful
for chaining these birds together
in the first place.
One alights on my shoulder,
showing me lightning in his eyes.
Now I know to free his family
and can no longer see the Mother from me.
The Moon, fully doing what it does best.
Amphibian shape-shift, a frog I become,
in order to commune with the salamanders
and discover rejuvenation’s secret.
Baked blood scorching through my veins,
melting with the basilisk is a small price to pay.
Sulphur sizzled by shadows of crimson salsa.
Remember Aslan’s mane?
No, not Aslan’s.
My own.
Running backwards through time
seven lifetimes to when I was a ram.
Horns ablaze and embers for eyes
embracing the embryonic phase.
When the bowman let loose
his fiery arrow in my direction
I become the shaft, feather, and the tip.
Only the ten fingers and mind of man
could channel an elemental out of the Sun.
Complete and combined friction manifests
Spirit.
More than white light, prayer and soul.
Harmonious, Centered, and balanced-
that which cannot be named.
Even “God” is incorrect.
Essence of myself-
if I could buy you dinner I would
on the condition you tell me of my past,
the one forgotten when I arrived
physical on this solar wheel.
Gold is not near enough
in either luminance or currencial wealth.
With that thought I set myself free.
Celestial Seraphim,
Sephiroth standing
at the Gates of Binah
Yggdrasil in full bloom.
Jupiter rising on the inside of my incisor
in spite of black holes and graey matter,
after thought lights the way
for the eternal wizard
who knows infinite chaos
better than his aura,
leaving Thoth
speechless.
-HH
