Posted by majutsu on May 17, 2010
The Unicorn of Route 13
My skull has opened up again
between and above my two eyes.
Through this quarter-sized doorway,
aberrant brain reaches out in a long horn,
a tunnel to unimpeded mind.
Little eyes of the many-eyed me
have fallen off and rolled.
One, under the passenger seat,
or driving — watching as the coffin-lid
of bony skull is shut by
A trickster doorman waving “Bye.”.
Coffin lid closed and dead
to me out there,
I begin to dream
of men raising barns together,
because that’s what you did on Tuesday,
twice a moon.
Or else, in what barn would you live?
The game of hide and seek
already started, I rest my horned head
to count with eyes closed
in the virgin’s lap made
by my two arms and the steering wheel.
I arrive at work.
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Posted by majutsu on November 15, 2009
Why I love her
Sheltered beneath this opened umbrella
a pituitary parasol of parabolic
colors, emanations of the unifying embrace
of her, loved before I knew her
whose hair strand is the corner of a market stand
in Darfur, a blinked eyelash at a family
dinner table of waspish mediocrity.
The inviolability of sufficient for our needs
screams like a stark reminder of the march
of sensory soldiers
unified only by a pole of
consciousness, the arbitrary skin fences
of yours and my stories
mere wisps of ether ,
vortices in her dance.
Mary with her ragged clothes
and unknown violation
in that dark night of the soul
mirrored in her almost bottomless almond eyes
the horror of every woman
afraid to show her face beneath her veil,
her intellect beneath her subjegation,
that vast moonlight of divinity reflected
in softest cafe au lait skin
responding to electric touch,
whipping into a frenzy – energy itself ,
the male sword plunged against his brother’s breast
for the misdirection of cash, with nary
but the gliding of a palm
on a warm sensate field of short
dark hairs standing like soldiers
in obeisance of place and duty.
Who whipped her neck around,
like some awkward rubik’s cube?
Someone’s daughter or wife
in a parking lot
beneath the shadow conspired by two streetlights?
Who slit the insides of her thighs like an orange
peeled before a morning breakfast?
What monster did not see
her divinity, her beauty,
her sideways glance
as proof of her eternity,
her testimony to their evil, before
they laid the black tarp of autopsy over her
and laid her to rest out back of the old church?
The monstrous violation
of the goddess of us all,
the breather of life into our every broad armed inhalation,
was obvious to us later
in the funeral parade of silk and ceremony.
It is said by ancient tribes that in this willing death
she undergoes beneath my stabbing sword at night,
that petit mort under full moon’s watchful glow,
is a sacrifice of tears.
She is the queen of mercy
mother to a field of daughters laying down under a foreign sword
whose crop of babies are never born to suck
the nuzzle of this young girl’s older breast.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged: equal pay equal work, era, feminism, goddess, hinduism, Islam, kali, women's rights | 2 Comments »
Posted by majutsu on January 15, 2008
Please abandon fear. Realize that everyone is divine. We all live in a world spun of language, imagery, and sheer vibration emanating from us that we embed in every vase, wall, plant or animal around us. These beings, the company we keep in our heads and in the world we choose to live in, are fabricated out of the music of our hearts. The song we sing from the center of our skulls, deep in the pituitary, pumping out serotonin, neuroepinephrine, dopamine like a giant umbrella of psychedelic eminence, radiating pastel skies, rage, sadness and joy in undulating protrusions. Not only does this song ring in our ears as sound, but sings in our eyes as light, and our nose as smell. Hormonal waves ripple emotion and physical throbbing through our bodies in cycles of minutes, hours and years. We do yoga all day, how we hold our spine, whether we look down in command, surveying our creation in confidence, or look up in awe, mothered by the great divine. Small to large we are a continuous pole of vibration living in a world of vibrating beings, some made by us, some made by others. We are also made by others, and our children spiritual and physical make others. We are one and we are many, carving each other with our song. Remember we are free to move. We are free to be crazy. We are free to smash myths. We are free to give sex to all beings, as many or as few as we desire, to sing of love as we please. We are also free to break morals, to lie, to cheat, to take without permission from those screaming in pain. Or instead, we are free to plant love, to raise all up to be the radiant stars of divinity they are but have forgotten. The cultural symbols of the past drift through us like seaweed along with our personal song waving through the waters of life we shroud ourselves in. Despite your habits and your wrappings, your bonds, remember your freedom. Sex is rhythm, work is rhythm, breathing is rhythm, let your song and your love be pure. Rise queen. Rise king. Take to your throne as lord of the universe. You are god. Sing into being a world of beauty. Your lover is waiting for you to remember who you are. Break through that wall, overcome that hurdle, abandon that fear, cut loose those chains. Remember who you are. You are god. Sing loudly. Sing strong. Sing peace. Sing so no one lies in any gutter, no one falls in any fear, no one trembles afraid, unloved. To let a soul go down unloved is the only sin I know, because you failed as the lord to not create beauty and peace. To let such wrong blacken your world is to throw down your crown and roll in the despair of amnesia. A divine being powerless to sing love deep into the four directions? I love you and I miss you so much, my great one. Arise and take your crown. Dispense your song and dance your dance. Beat the drum of your world loudly, for you are god.
Posted in beauty, Building a Better World, Earth Justice, ecology, evolution, freedom, gay rights, hallucinogens, illuminati, Islam, Jesus, Jews, kabbalah, Muslims, mysticism, poetry, power of love, prayer, religion, science, secular humanism, witchcraft | Tagged: anat, ayahuasca, baal, crowley, freedom, freemason, goddess, kabbalah, masonry, mot, myth, religion, witchcraft, yam | 5 Comments »