posted on Apr, 29 2007 @ 04:02 PM
Black Elk revised the resurrection, when he laughed and he joked. Schopenhauer lamented freedom - "A man can be himself only so long as he is alone;
... if he does not love solitude, he will not love freedom; for it is only when he is alone that he is really free." And Schiller relayed -
"There's no such thing as chance; and what to us seems merest accident springs from the deepest source of destiny." A poetic tale of clearwater's
departures with Frankenkitty, who toys with gargoyles guarding the gate, tiger/scorpions, flights of fancy and dangerous dreams. In light of the
supreme self service of poetic pleasure: Some choice phantom of the poopy dread and wonderful things with an eye for the eighth day and the song that
it sings.
***
Witch and Inquisitor
In 499 years, 8 months,
13 days, 49 minutes and 15, 14, 13, 12,
seconds -
We might once again play witch and inquisitor.
And the next time
maybe witch will
have the upper hand.
Baptized in the waters of Creation
Risking arguments with trees
dancing lightly on the winds of Thunderbirds
Blessed Be.
***
Rotting Corpse on a Peg
I've planted the huluppu tree in the jungle
huluppu tree, huluppu tree, huluppu tree.
I've ran with the seed in my hand to the jungle
and planted the huluppu tree.
Huluppu cries the serpeant is welcome,
Anzu sets her young on the branches
and Lilith may come and go as she please.
Huluppu tree, huluppu tree, huluppu tree
Enki is robbed of his treasures
they've flown to the jungle with me.
***
A Sucker Born Every Minute
Slam is angry and twice as loud,
offers succor to a drunken crowd.
Hip hop once spoke up for the meek,
Now hanging teats out for a corporate beat.
Imagism fills in color without lines,
offering challenge of an anorexic kind.
Lit dim reading rooms and coffee shops
washed-out faces holding tarot cards.
Whimsical women lithe and sweet
blandly rhyming off on the color of leaves.
Nausea and culture shock -
Pulls the chain right out of the top
of the toilet.
Reason sometimes falters and can't go on.
Padre Pio may seem all but gone.
Hunger dogging every step -
wondering how the mess isn't dead yet.
Take time out to write a line
how pride is built on falsehoods and lies -
every accomplishment
Shiny new pennies of the inquisitor's mint.
Sparked into fire with the inquisitor's flint.
Flames fed on bones and blood
bearing the weight the crimes -
Christmas, Easter, and all the time.
No sentence, no hope, no voice to tell a
crowd of well-wishers, no water, no place
nothing to live - on, or for, but, Grace.
Luckiest of lucky is a fine joke
because the house never loses
it's the children that croak.
Offer them up to the prison cells -
Scarcity of money
dwindling down from boomer wells.
Sent off to foreign war
sold into slavery as whores.
Pumping it out every night on the net
where husbands find solace from the needs of their wives.
So step right up and hedge the bets
Are you feeling lucky? - There's a long shot ahead -
Better to listen to hearts and not heads.
***
Grief
Never easy with loss, this too shall pass.
No rage for the whimper
that rises up from the chest
and expels itself on a breath
without thinking.
Just a shell that holds the rest
in, a bit of muscle, sinew, skin -
a bit of thinking how it might have been better.
House lights on a final curtain
floods the room with nothing certain
only grief.
***
Goats
Forgiveness Pretty Sunshine
was born into the world today.
Her French mother will call her Soleil
and her English father will obey.
When a scorpion is born
someone dies
and when a scorpion dies
someone is born.
Forgiveness is a Capricorn.
***
Scorpion
Bow down Gilgamesh
To the ending grain harvest -
Hewing the tree of life for Goddess
To build her cage your nest.
Bow down Enki, Dumuzi,
Bow down at Girtab -
Kiss the ground
Claw the earth
To hide there.
Buried as you buried her.
Comes now your harvest
Erishikigal's venom
without rest.
***
Shelah na Gig and the Phallus Worshipers
Julian the Giddy will guard the portal willingly
though the audience low -
Keen moon exuberance
in the dusty misbegotten
halls of the ghost of glory,
where knights fail the grail,
their eyes growing dim
as Julian's brightness grows.
Gardens and doorways
under mistletoe and marriage proposals
blessed be,
Shelah na Gig and the phallus worshipers.
Pomegranate is sweet in Hades
for spanky's giddy na gig.
***
Prisoner's of War
Wild in the forest
under a black sky
speckled with smiling lights
with a direction to abide -
You're always home.
There are no visitors
it's everyone's abode.
Lost in the forest
is lost in the soul.
A stubborn cut
congealed in place
blame always brings a blush.
Spirals and circles
incomprehensibly -
Wondering helplessly -
What's the rush?
Orphaned for meaning
from banking machines.
Paying for the privilege
to dictate and name.
Dictate directions
up, down, north, south -
upside down -
What gets put in a mouth,
when, how much
and what comes out -
What makes it talk happy
and what makes it talk sad
how much it will cost
to make it talk bad -
dictated down to the last second
ticking on the face of a clock
as if time were of the essence
it's not.
***
For what will be "The Eighth Day."
"Trolls are like butt holes, everyone has one but you can only do something about your own."
Keying "Master's" sentiment...."Forgiveness is the air we breath".....
Trolls are like butt holes,
everybody has one, but you can only do something about your own.
Though turgid the prose admittedly be
and accidental coincidences exploited by me -
Adored from afar, our beleaguered Inquisitor, always seems,
As the poor always hunger for knowledge and free.
Gargoyles are demons, who fight for heaven,
He's seen what he's seen.
Faithful at typing, on her busy keys
Our inquisitor's inquisitive friend inquires voraciously.
Nevertheless, diligent a General's strategy -
Feared and admired with the rodent is she.
Everyone likes susi
More than they don't.
A little bit of Aztec, went a long way,
a blush to make you look away.
Not unlike some of the unlucky back in the day -
Jeered, while carted in an inquisitional way.
One a little impatient with the Roccocco art;
True to sin's ancient name - never missed his Mark.
Likewise, Giddy Sheala na Gig freely guards the gates of Molloch.
An appetite for frog's legs bestowed frivolity.
Rachmaninoff and Beethoven roared to our glee.
Apologies and a flourishing bow -
To buddies cross fired in the row.
An appetite for frog's legs bestowed light hearted frock,
a frivolity never intended to mock.
Rachmaninoff and Beethoven roared to our glee.
Apologies and a flourishing bow -
To buddies cross fired in the row.
Unintentional uprising,
As though the Heavens had seen,
Repatriation of Geronimo's bones,
from a drunk white man's dream.
Nymph indulgences were delightful
from the greened ones' crisp, white clean.
Never perfect - unfailingly ambrosial.
Thanks, as always, to the Master of Life
also known as the thief.
Blessed Be.
[edit on 29-4-2007 by clearwater]