Wagner's Poetry
 

The hungry wolves are hungry,
Don't let them mix the planes
To approach you,
To rave and rip and rend your mind
By sinking their teeth by telling you that
They are the way.
Nay, you are the truth.
Not your mind!
Y.O.U.!!!!!!!!!!!

Hymn To Kali
---------------------
She clasps my hand,
She holds my head,
She knows that soon that I'll be dead
And so might She,
Uproots the tree and
The land I love instead...

I put my heel over hill,
I caught the bug,
I found the thrill
Of chasing junebugs in reach,
She gives me Moments of Lost Speech.

Melt me in your arms
Like ice in the sun
The fact of life disarms,
Life's too short to not have fun

My skull looks good on you!

Good images. :)

Oh! Where are the images? Don’t see any

:icon_cool: Melt me in your arms
Like ice in the sun

Thanks! :)


Image in the East
--------------
Dreamers dream, and heaven rues
The somber scattering of ill-won news
That dips it branches into the soft lake
Of mind that longs to forever unmake
Unhappiness for any, for some, for few
For one, yes, give it to none and through
The efforts we create let unhappiness carry on
Unto the edge of existence into oblivion!
But we laugh, we cry, we perform the dance
At the urgings of our desire, that misinformed trance
That transforms the external into our own circumstance
To mar the mark of excellence
Indelibly printed on the spirit of mankind,
It slips through our fingers every time we find
Some temporal shrine in which to bid our soul,
And the universe laughs, we again pay the toll
To our clinging, only to cling once more...
Can there be an end? No one is sure
Until we track with fidelity the origin of our unease,
That apparent hunger for whom we suffer to appease,
For there we would find that there is no one, no lack,
No wild goose chase to follow, these are just a sham show;
Everything that is sought can be found by going back
Within, to our source, then we will know.
Temporary happiness is only a disguise
For the riptides of sorrow, tide of tears in the eyes.
So let it go, let it go, verily, let it go...


-------------------------------------------------------

Don't worry, such lack of imagination is oft ameliorated through the passage of time.

Pierce The Hollow
------------------------
“The mystery is concealed beneath the waters and the gate.
There are forty-five steps to the Ninth House (which some call the Second),
Then three to the Center,
Followed by An Hundred Fifty and Six.”

No, there’s nothing wrong...
This is the scene.
This is the scene in which the Lady Moon
Arrives to evoke the daily swoon
Of daylight in the firmament bright,
She commits it to sleep at the dawn of Her night;
With blessings far-woven through the tight-lipped trees
And aided by the tide of the silvery breeze,
She calls to Her seekers, She guides with Her Spell,
She leads us to the verge of the forgotten well
Of obscure dreams and paths unsought
And rapture cloaked and veiled seeing,
Behind the chrysalis of cynical thought,
Beyond the integument of material being.
Within, where the wind whisks soft that Silent pool
Brimming with Perception, yea, She dances in our soul,
Her holy feet barely but grazing the hallowed ground
As She swirls and She whirls and She twirls to the sound
Of euphonic violet laughter, lunar lucence of lissome love
Imbued for ever after! Inside and high above!!
She beckons! She beckons by irresistible grace,
A sigh in Her solace, Her starlit embrace...
She bears change like a psychogenic gem in Her crown
That pairs to the shimmer of Her celestial gown;
Her mirror unlighted, sharp crescent, shining sphere:
Mere projections of this Goddess, this fey mystical seer
Whose cheerful presence is the spirit of Her renown.
“Lady Moon, I hear!”
*Exeunt omnes. The curtain comes down.*

Back and forth my thoughts change hue,
Their mood contorted and distorted
From top to bottom, from cloud to chasm,
They rise, they fall, their whim an assorted
Menagerie in a gilded cage,
Set to their motions in a gilded age...

Every concept that I share, every fact that I lay, every statement that I make; every desire that I fill, every feeling that I feel; every thought that I think; each of these sent elsewhere, o unchanging and self-lit life of life, is a moment not spent in you. How can I say that I love you with all of my heart when these things fill the majority of my day?

Slowly but surely the thoughts will give way,
They impress themselves poorly under the holy sway
Of silence emerging from the depth within,
No violence urging, just discipline
To ignore their cries, their pulling, their flow,
And direct due diligence deep below
The layers of the thoughts' desire to go without
Where they mingle as perception, idea and doubt.
"How goest thou," the curious may ask,
"To make progress positive in this, thine chosen task?"

The aim of the quest must first be found,
Tis blanketed beneath the chaos of sound
Which surrounds our ears daily and enters them fain,
We must keep the din out again and again,
For like the screen on which a projector shines
To show its show, our target defines
The background wherewith all sound depends,
Where quiet is found, where noisiness ends.
Extract that silence from the commotion and to it listen,
Though you'll hear it not your attention will glisten
Upon the formless indication of inmost being,
Practice and practice without remark on what you're seeing,
Because to see means the focus is yet not strong.
One must tune into the silence, that is it, for however long.
A few minutes to start is not amiss,
Then steady grow that time to succeed in this.
Eventually distracting thoughts/sounds (they're the same)
Will lose their impetus to arise and will begin to fade
Like the winner's worry in a one-time game,
Like the cool contents, in the summer, of a pitcher of lemonade.

--------------------------
No poetry is good enough, though it were written eternal in the ink of the very stars themselves, by sheer dint of the fact that thought cannot lead the mind to the experience of pure consciousness, even as the shadow cast by an object lit by the sun cannot approach that light of the sun. Undiluted awareness reveals itself only in mental quiescence; i.e. silence; or "dynamic passivity," for alertness must be maintained throughout, otherwise you just fall asleep...again. Absolute attentiveness (viz. concentration and vigilance against drifting into revelry or sleep) and complete lack of thoughts is the state to strive for. Awareness aware of naught but being aware of awareness.

I will leave it to thee,
I still disagree,
I will leave this vote unto the three,
It's the most intrusive,
Unwanted experience
To me.

I contemplate
A great ordeal,
Or is that just
Some appeal to
Rate?
I concentrated on...

In my quest for Thee, O my God, I did make my passage unto a tiny ocean fixed upon the old grey land and fed of the river Lethe. I set sail at once thereon towards the glint of ineffable Gold I spied on its distant shore. By short chance, over and over again its petulant waters did overcome my vessel and my way, the muddling gales that kissed the surface of that sea obscured all direction; near-constantly I was consumed in and I consumed its Water of Sleep.

Yea, the demons of Five had me in their spell for those times. And for many days of my voyage, long and hard-practiced came even the intention to stay afloat and breathe in one; drowning in those shallow depths had become there my hobby: like a strange indulgence taking hold of the mind. I lost sight of Thee then. But oh so grandly we basked Together in the rapture of those moments few where I fair weathered the storms, my dear, my God! I was renewed to nothing in Thy body therein. Utter utmost mine bliss! Thy secrets entered me then there that by dint of perseverance I shall reach yon shore. There is no more fear or doubt. Love, love, onwards. Amen.