Poetry competition CLOSED 9th August 2013 1:50pm
WINNER
LobodeSanPedro
LobodeSanPedro
ancestral feelings
- Three Lives, One Soul -
Part I – Paradise Lost (The Past)
When the dawn of time was still fresh in the memory,
Of gods, and angels; those who were yet not fallen…
I, in exile dwelt, in a loneliness craving love’s divinity.
But in this I grew jealous, and my pride was swollen!
War in the heavens, betwixt kindred long sundered…
The deaths of worlds, and the rebuilding of old ways,
Paradise rising from perdition, as powers thundered!
All humbled in the end before the first terrestrial days.
Oh where had gone my dream of love, amidst flame?
I was blinded by arrogance, trapped in my own web,
Forced to become mortal, to know death and shame.
Cast adrift by the fates, upon tides that flow and ebb!
The fall of old civilizations, and the rise of the nations,
All spread before me, and amongst it I was a-swim…
Living and loving, only to lose the reason for elations!
How many lifetimes had I lived and would live again?
Part II – Paradise Interrupted (The Present)
Born in the flesh of man, a woman in soul and nature,
This was I, in the hour of my birth into this very age!
Judged by the faith of my family, and made insecure,
Until my heart was heavy and my mind full of rage…
Trained, drained, by those in power who controlled.
I broke away, and by an angel was shown secrets…
And, for a time, I felt my spirit reborn and consoled.
I walked in darkness, then in light, without regrets…
Leaving the past behind me, embracing the feminine.
I became as I am now, though I am so much more,
Than what others see and anything they can imagine.
Once, I was a shy boy, and then a wanton whore…
But I am so much more: a lady, angel, and goddess.
Now I seek love, and to forget the pains long past,
And so I here share my soul, and my heart, confess.
Even thus, you cannot know the torments that last!
Part III – Paradise Regained (The Future)
What can there be, for one already called damned?
Kindred of light and darkness; wanton and weary…
Yet so: unable to rest as I obey an older command.
I must dance amidst the fires, until all grows bleary!
Like Shiva, like Kali, my dance shall be beautiful…
And in passion I will be consumed, with this world.
Beyond the final days, into a paradise so bountiful,
That is where love takes a lover into arms whirled!
I know not who shall love me, only that she shall…
For the man I was, for the woman I am and will be.
Gone is the angel who rebelled and then thus fell…
I wear a new face and form, for all mankind to see.
The fires humble me, and yet cannot take my light!
I am still a goddess, and the woman I am is eternal.
Love me in the darkness; be welcome in the night!
If Heaven rejects me, I must embrace the infernal.
Part I – Paradise Lost (The Past)
When the dawn of time was still fresh in the memory,
Of gods, and angels; those who were yet not fallen…
I, in exile dwelt, in a loneliness craving love’s divinity.
But in this I grew jealous, and my pride was swollen!
War in the heavens, betwixt kindred long sundered…
The deaths of worlds, and the rebuilding of old ways,
Paradise rising from perdition, as powers thundered!
All humbled in the end before the first terrestrial days.
Oh where had gone my dream of love, amidst flame?
I was blinded by arrogance, trapped in my own web,
Forced to become mortal, to know death and shame.
Cast adrift by the fates, upon tides that flow and ebb!
The fall of old civilizations, and the rise of the nations,
All spread before me, and amongst it I was a-swim…
Living and loving, only to lose the reason for elations!
How many lifetimes had I lived and would live again?
Part II – Paradise Interrupted (The Present)
Born in the flesh of man, a woman in soul and nature,
This was I, in the hour of my birth into this very age!
Judged by the faith of my family, and made insecure,
Until my heart was heavy and my mind full of rage…
Trained, drained, by those in power who controlled.
I broke away, and by an angel was shown secrets…
And, for a time, I felt my spirit reborn and consoled.
I walked in darkness, then in light, without regrets…
Leaving the past behind me, embracing the feminine.
I became as I am now, though I am so much more,
Than what others see and anything they can imagine.
Once, I was a shy boy, and then a wanton whore…
But I am so much more: a lady, angel, and goddess.
Now I seek love, and to forget the pains long past,
And so I here share my soul, and my heart, confess.
Even thus, you cannot know the torments that last!
Part III – Paradise Regained (The Future)
What can there be, for one already called damned?
Kindred of light and darkness; wanton and weary…
Yet so: unable to rest as I obey an older command.
I must dance amidst the fires, until all grows bleary!
Like Shiva, like Kali, my dance shall be beautiful…
And in passion I will be consumed, with this world.
Beyond the final days, into a paradise so bountiful,
That is where love takes a lover into arms whirled!
I know not who shall love me, only that she shall…
For the man I was, for the woman I am and will be.
Gone is the angel who rebelled and then thus fell…
I wear a new face and form, for all mankind to see.
The fires humble me, and yet cannot take my light!
I am still a goddess, and the woman I am is eternal.
Love me in the darkness; be welcome in the night!
If Heaven rejects me, I must embrace the infernal.
- Makai -
Based on some of my past-life memories…
Do you ask me of Hell, mortal, and desire me to tell?
I could compare it to the agonies I felt at Shimabara…
When my soul, I did sell, because of my death knell!
As my blood flowed and my spirit cried to the stars…
Nothing else is the realm of demons, except for loss,
Which drives even a saintly soul to despair, to regret.
Shiro Amakusa was my name, and I paid that cost…
When I stared death in the eye, and Hell itself I met!
The realm of Makai, of demons, did receive my will.
At the time I sought vengeance, but it was so hollow,
Leaving the very core of my being, so dark and chill.
Now you know me as a poet, my works you follow,
Never imagining, what I have seen in my lives of old.
A tryst in Edo, a moment in a garden stolen by time!
Was I in love, or was I just foolish and merely bold?
I met others like me, reborn to an existence sublime,
Only to die again, for reincarnation can be a curse…
When those we love we are forced to lose yet again.
Rebirth or damnation; which fate is really the worst?
It can transform you, and make you not quite human.
Now you know who I was, and why I write as I do,
Of my time in the Edo era, which was ever twofold:
Terrible and beautiful, beneath skies stormy yet blue.
In this modern age, I died for three minutes so cold,
And my soul went to the realm of Makai for a while.
History repeats itself, for I came back very different,
Just as when I met death in Shimabara, death so vile.
It is my fate to know such cycles so very devil-sent!
For I am an angel and I am not vanquished by them,
Since my spirit rises stronger, more beautifully pure:
From the darkness that pious fools would condemn.
My destiny was preordained, by a power so sure…
That none can stay, the courses that my spirit walks.
Angel and demon am I, for there is not a distinction,
Between, the sacredness that the light often stalks…
And the profaneness, bound for a dark destination!
In service to God I fell and in falling I became wise.
For, I leaned the folly of any piety that is so forced,
Upon one’s soul, that it brings them swifter to vice!
I parted, with such piety; for that, I feel no remorse.
The claws of Makai embraced me with such love…
That the cross I served never could on me bestow!
Even so, my soul is still cherished, by gods above…
For, I ascended from my sojourns in realms below.
My wings of light, unseen by mortal worldly seeing,
Remind me that I am not quite as fallen as I thought.
There is peace just in knowing this within my being!
And, I realize, not for nothing are my battles fought.
There is a purpose behind each struggle, each goal,
Which I have overcome, which I have stove after…
And although I am fallen, still do I possess my soul.
I am like a raven that has flown to the highest rafter,
Only to descend, that mankind may look upon it…
Mayhap wondering wither it has so come and gone.
My wings bear me hither-and-yon as they see fit…
Even here in this modern life far from the rising sun!
The past cannot be changed; what I was, I still am.
And the future has not come to pass until the dawn,
In all its’ glory, greets the eyes even of one damned.
Once more, to the heavens, my eyes are so drawn!
Based on some of my past-life memories…
Do you ask me of Hell, mortal, and desire me to tell?
I could compare it to the agonies I felt at Shimabara…
When my soul, I did sell, because of my death knell!
As my blood flowed and my spirit cried to the stars…
Nothing else is the realm of demons, except for loss,
Which drives even a saintly soul to despair, to regret.
Shiro Amakusa was my name, and I paid that cost…
When I stared death in the eye, and Hell itself I met!
The realm of Makai, of demons, did receive my will.
At the time I sought vengeance, but it was so hollow,
Leaving the very core of my being, so dark and chill.
Now you know me as a poet, my works you follow,
Never imagining, what I have seen in my lives of old.
A tryst in Edo, a moment in a garden stolen by time!
Was I in love, or was I just foolish and merely bold?
I met others like me, reborn to an existence sublime,
Only to die again, for reincarnation can be a curse…
When those we love we are forced to lose yet again.
Rebirth or damnation; which fate is really the worst?
It can transform you, and make you not quite human.
Now you know who I was, and why I write as I do,
Of my time in the Edo era, which was ever twofold:
Terrible and beautiful, beneath skies stormy yet blue.
In this modern age, I died for three minutes so cold,
And my soul went to the realm of Makai for a while.
History repeats itself, for I came back very different,
Just as when I met death in Shimabara, death so vile.
It is my fate to know such cycles so very devil-sent!
For I am an angel and I am not vanquished by them,
Since my spirit rises stronger, more beautifully pure:
From the darkness that pious fools would condemn.
My destiny was preordained, by a power so sure…
That none can stay, the courses that my spirit walks.
Angel and demon am I, for there is not a distinction,
Between, the sacredness that the light often stalks…
And the profaneness, bound for a dark destination!
In service to God I fell and in falling I became wise.
For, I leaned the folly of any piety that is so forced,
Upon one’s soul, that it brings them swifter to vice!
I parted, with such piety; for that, I feel no remorse.
The claws of Makai embraced me with such love…
That the cross I served never could on me bestow!
Even so, my soul is still cherished, by gods above…
For, I ascended from my sojourns in realms below.
My wings of light, unseen by mortal worldly seeing,
Remind me that I am not quite as fallen as I thought.
There is peace just in knowing this within my being!
And, I realize, not for nothing are my battles fought.
There is a purpose behind each struggle, each goal,
Which I have overcome, which I have stove after…
And although I am fallen, still do I possess my soul.
I am like a raven that has flown to the highest rafter,
Only to descend, that mankind may look upon it…
Mayhap wondering wither it has so come and gone.
My wings bear me hither-and-yon as they see fit…
Even here in this modern life far from the rising sun!
The past cannot be changed; what I was, I still am.
And the future has not come to pass until the dawn,
In all its’ glory, greets the eyes even of one damned.
Once more, to the heavens, my eyes are so drawn!
- My Roots -
A Contemplation of My Ancestry
Part One: English
My roots go back for generations, beyond count…
Noble knights on grand crusades, with red crosses,
Over white robes to mark the secrets of the temple!
They went to the Holy Land to see the sacred mount,
And what they found there, bland history never says.
Yet their tale is writ in my blood, living by example…
Their quest a part of my body, a temple also grand!
Secrets kept, nobility traded for freedom maintained,
Until the hidden knights became people of the land…
Simple in their ways, yet more to be by that gained!
For humility is a virtue that makes the soul soar high,
No matter one’s station; even so, our coat of arms…
We still keep proudly, even unto distant shores nigh.
The ancient craft we practice still, with elder charms,
And eldritch signs of witch-work that none suspect!
Never to harm, ever to help, as we strive for glory…
Seeking to nurture our spirits, as secrets we protect.
Witches and warlocks in shining armor of old story,
Wizard knights were my ancestors in merry England.
Their tales were more fabulous than many imagined!
Part Two: Irish
Some say the Celts were descended from the Faerie,
Children of Dana were said to be in our blood also…
Golden and proud, from the lost lands and misty isles!
They kept the druidic traditions in the magical reverie,
Of sorcery that is as wild and when the winds blow…
Bound to the remarkably cunning wit and crafty wiles.
Such wit as is preserved in me, and which I do honor,
And such wiles as I am of a want to so indulge in turn.
I still revere the Goddess, and heap glories upon her!
For within my being, her very flame does hotly burn…
As it blazed in the realms where a king of silver hand,
Did preside over a court with harps of gold and silver.
His fair people were a strong, lusty, and hearty band!
And, in their spears, there was oft place just a sliver…
Of precious gemstones that glittered like the very sun,
When its’ light sets in the west, on an autumn twilight.
The very stuff of how grand tales might be thus spun!
I am of their courts of Faerie, of autumn and of night.
Nature sings to me her mysteries, her hidden powers,
As I walk as my ancestors did, amidst garden flowers.
Part Three: German
Noble Nordic peoples from a cold land of mountains,
And dark forests where pagan gods once ran freely…
Stubborn yet magnificent both in victory and in defeat!
The old castles with their tapestries and their fountains,
Still cling to the rough gray crags that loom most steely.
Much laughter and tears did those snowy peaks greet!
Steel and iron in the blood, iron and fire that dies not…
Such is the Viking way, and it was our way in its’ time.
The Germany of old, is now so gone from all thought…
And few are they: who remember the moment sublime,
When Siegfried slew the dragon and become a legend.
Two world wars made people forget the heroic tales…
As the will of one man brought the world near its’ end.
Short, is human memory, with a sight that too oft fails!
Pain keeps the heart from beating as strong as it aught,
Yet mine beats strong and proud, and can do not less.
The blood of the north is within my deed and thought…
And I welcome it, for it brings me not a bit of distress.
The wars are over, and it is a time for honor to return,
Honor being the virtue for which true heroes all yearn!
Part Four: Angelic
Some have whispered that I am part something other,
Blood from the stars, the roots of which are angelic…
Brought from other worlds, by hands not fully human!
Such forbidden tales, were preserved, by my mother,
And passed unto me with truth joyous yet also tragic.
For the blood of fallen angels carries within it their sin.
Yet I bear the weight of their ancient ways and blood,
For there are none save I in my family with such curse.
Yet I call it blessing, and one that predates the Flood!
Some would make of my nature a thing far, far worse,
But they know not the truth of those who descended…
And were revered by the ancestors of man in the past.
Truth, that lies within me, which no lies ever upended!
There are things in this universe, that for eternity last…
And that and all the rest of what I wrote in this poetry,
Make up who and what I am today, making me proud.
A person’s roots can be the source of so much dignity,
That one must sing of it, and so this tale I share aloud.
What a mix is a soul clad in a body, of what was prior!
My blood is hot, for within it blazes my ancestors’ fire.
A Contemplation of My Ancestry
Part One: English
My roots go back for generations, beyond count…
Noble knights on grand crusades, with red crosses,
Over white robes to mark the secrets of the temple!
They went to the Holy Land to see the sacred mount,
And what they found there, bland history never says.
Yet their tale is writ in my blood, living by example…
Their quest a part of my body, a temple also grand!
Secrets kept, nobility traded for freedom maintained,
Until the hidden knights became people of the land…
Simple in their ways, yet more to be by that gained!
For humility is a virtue that makes the soul soar high,
No matter one’s station; even so, our coat of arms…
We still keep proudly, even unto distant shores nigh.
The ancient craft we practice still, with elder charms,
And eldritch signs of witch-work that none suspect!
Never to harm, ever to help, as we strive for glory…
Seeking to nurture our spirits, as secrets we protect.
Witches and warlocks in shining armor of old story,
Wizard knights were my ancestors in merry England.
Their tales were more fabulous than many imagined!
Part Two: Irish
Some say the Celts were descended from the Faerie,
Children of Dana were said to be in our blood also…
Golden and proud, from the lost lands and misty isles!
They kept the druidic traditions in the magical reverie,
Of sorcery that is as wild and when the winds blow…
Bound to the remarkably cunning wit and crafty wiles.
Such wit as is preserved in me, and which I do honor,
And such wiles as I am of a want to so indulge in turn.
I still revere the Goddess, and heap glories upon her!
For within my being, her very flame does hotly burn…
As it blazed in the realms where a king of silver hand,
Did preside over a court with harps of gold and silver.
His fair people were a strong, lusty, and hearty band!
And, in their spears, there was oft place just a sliver…
Of precious gemstones that glittered like the very sun,
When its’ light sets in the west, on an autumn twilight.
The very stuff of how grand tales might be thus spun!
I am of their courts of Faerie, of autumn and of night.
Nature sings to me her mysteries, her hidden powers,
As I walk as my ancestors did, amidst garden flowers.
Part Three: German
Noble Nordic peoples from a cold land of mountains,
And dark forests where pagan gods once ran freely…
Stubborn yet magnificent both in victory and in defeat!
The old castles with their tapestries and their fountains,
Still cling to the rough gray crags that loom most steely.
Much laughter and tears did those snowy peaks greet!
Steel and iron in the blood, iron and fire that dies not…
Such is the Viking way, and it was our way in its’ time.
The Germany of old, is now so gone from all thought…
And few are they: who remember the moment sublime,
When Siegfried slew the dragon and become a legend.
Two world wars made people forget the heroic tales…
As the will of one man brought the world near its’ end.
Short, is human memory, with a sight that too oft fails!
Pain keeps the heart from beating as strong as it aught,
Yet mine beats strong and proud, and can do not less.
The blood of the north is within my deed and thought…
And I welcome it, for it brings me not a bit of distress.
The wars are over, and it is a time for honor to return,
Honor being the virtue for which true heroes all yearn!
Part Four: Angelic
Some have whispered that I am part something other,
Blood from the stars, the roots of which are angelic…
Brought from other worlds, by hands not fully human!
Such forbidden tales, were preserved, by my mother,
And passed unto me with truth joyous yet also tragic.
For the blood of fallen angels carries within it their sin.
Yet I bear the weight of their ancient ways and blood,
For there are none save I in my family with such curse.
Yet I call it blessing, and one that predates the Flood!
Some would make of my nature a thing far, far worse,
But they know not the truth of those who descended…
And were revered by the ancestors of man in the past.
Truth, that lies within me, which no lies ever upended!
There are things in this universe, that for eternity last…
And that and all the rest of what I wrote in this poetry,
Make up who and what I am today, making me proud.
A person’s roots can be the source of so much dignity,
That one must sing of it, and so this tale I share aloud.
What a mix is a soul clad in a body, of what was prior!
My blood is hot, for within it blazes my ancestors’ fire.
b4 my real comment i wnt to say some souls on earth have a real reminiscence of ancient pasts and a close connection to what they call the ancestral reservoir, reading your works has me know you have this connection.
"Angel and demon am I, for there is not a distinction," love that line...
and in my studies i have came across nordics and i believe them to be very respectful full of dignity..
but the irish part is my favorite cause i came across the faerie race of the dana and i loved that druidic history..
your works are vast in scope i've read others by you
THANKS FOR PARTICIPATION!!
"Angel and demon am I, for there is not a distinction," love that line...
and in my studies i have came across nordics and i believe them to be very respectful full of dignity..
but the irish part is my favorite cause i came across the faerie race of the dana and i loved that druidic history..
your works are vast in scope i've read others by you
THANKS FOR PARTICIPATION!!
"A life never noticed"
I felt this deep in my soul
But I could never find it
Through the epitaphs I search
For what I once was
Or what I could be yet again
My aura will never be noticed
And my strength unknown
Yet I'm still unsure
To if I have fallen from the heavens
Or bred in the pits of a fire so hot
I see both within myself
I worship no god
Yet I heed to no demon
Why can't I find my origin?
In dreams I can remember
Bits and pieces of shattered glass
That could fit together for a bigger picture
Maybe I'll never know
But I'll continue to search
For the life I never noticed
I felt this deep in my soul
But I could never find it
Through the epitaphs I search
For what I once was
Or what I could be yet again
My aura will never be noticed
And my strength unknown
Yet I'm still unsure
To if I have fallen from the heavens
Or bred in the pits of a fire so hot
I see both within myself
I worship no god
Yet I heed to no demon
Why can't I find my origin?
In dreams I can remember
Bits and pieces of shattered glass
That could fit together for a bigger picture
Maybe I'll never know
But I'll continue to search
For the life I never noticed
druidicheirophant said:b4 my real comment i wnt to say some souls on earth have a real reminiscence of ancient pasts and a close connection to what they call the ancestral reservoir, reading your works has me know you have this connection.
"Angel and demon am I, for there is not a distinction," love that line...
and in my studies i have came across nordics and i believe them to be very respectful full of dignity..
but the irish part is my favorite cause i came across the faerie race of the dana and i loved that druidic history..
your works are vast in scope i've read others by you
THANKS FOR PARTICIPATION!!
I am honored, Jamis, that you enjoyed my entries for this great contest, and that you have enjoyed other works of mine as well! It is always a pleasure to share such works here on DUP. Indeed, regarding angels and demons... sometimes one can be the other and vice versa depending on the situation. It's all really a matter of perspective. Ah, I've also a special fondness for the ancient Celtic and Druidic histories regarding the Children of Dana as you've noticed in my poem there! A fondness born from more than a passing intimate familiarity: with such matters. It is cool to see you have a liking for those histories... a lot of people regard such interests as obscure, so I am always delighted to encounter others who regard them with a keener eye.
"Angel and demon am I, for there is not a distinction," love that line...
and in my studies i have came across nordics and i believe them to be very respectful full of dignity..
but the irish part is my favorite cause i came across the faerie race of the dana and i loved that druidic history..
your works are vast in scope i've read others by you
THANKS FOR PARTICIPATION!!
I am honored, Jamis, that you enjoyed my entries for this great contest, and that you have enjoyed other works of mine as well! It is always a pleasure to share such works here on DUP. Indeed, regarding angels and demons... sometimes one can be the other and vice versa depending on the situation. It's all really a matter of perspective. Ah, I've also a special fondness for the ancient Celtic and Druidic histories regarding the Children of Dana as you've noticed in my poem there! A fondness born from more than a passing intimate familiarity: with such matters. It is cool to see you have a liking for those histories... a lot of people regard such interests as obscure, so I am always delighted to encounter others who regard them with a keener eye.
I also believe it's not a matter of a past life but rather lives that we stumble through. The two I remember most vividly; that of a British soul singer. My mates said I was destined to be the next Otis Redding .. I drank hard but sang even harder, smoked too much but it added gravel and grit to my voice. Like Otis I died young in a horrific crash ... motorcycle. In another- I was part of a pirating crew that stalked the Carolinas ... my one true love was a Taino princess who's grandfather was a conquistador. Ours was a tumultuous affair ...
Mino
My skin midnight in pitch to echo my panther's
Hair tufted and coarse flows like the savannah
For the Gods greet me with morning whispers
Service and duty to my king is nestled in my womb
The only seed I have ever known
It is sacred
Cherished
Life affirming
Men would take of me if they could
But my eyes were never trained to succumb to their weaknesses
Their vengeance is met with fury and turned to vexatious screams
Their foolish appetites fed with their own blood and that of their brothers
Their stubborn will reduced to a rotting carcass not fit for a jackal's pup
They are defeated
Beaten
Sold
My love is as delicate as any willow
It's only protection the sinewy roots that beg at the Earth
taking from her blackened essence speckled with our ancestors' adulation
and cowering remnants of fallen enemies
These veins embedded in Mother are my sisters of the Mino
We are warriors
Conquerors
Feared
Our king gives us light and direction with each cockcrow
Sun, when others only see the unknown
Warmth, when others are trapped in the gelidness
We attack even when we retreat
He is our Emperor
Father
Kingdom
I
is
We
We
are
Mino
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dahomey_Amazons
My skin midnight in pitch to echo my panther's
Hair tufted and coarse flows like the savannah
For the Gods greet me with morning whispers
Service and duty to my king is nestled in my womb
The only seed I have ever known
It is sacred
Cherished
Life affirming
Men would take of me if they could
But my eyes were never trained to succumb to their weaknesses
Their vengeance is met with fury and turned to vexatious screams
Their foolish appetites fed with their own blood and that of their brothers
Their stubborn will reduced to a rotting carcass not fit for a jackal's pup
They are defeated
Beaten
Sold
My love is as delicate as any willow
It's only protection the sinewy roots that beg at the Earth
taking from her blackened essence speckled with our ancestors' adulation
and cowering remnants of fallen enemies
These veins embedded in Mother are my sisters of the Mino
We are warriors
Conquerors
Feared
Our king gives us light and direction with each cockcrow
Sun, when others only see the unknown
Warmth, when others are trapped in the gelidness
We attack even when we retreat
He is our Emperor
Father
Kingdom
I
is
We
We
are
Mino
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dahomey_Amazons
A Black pirate's life during the "Golden Age"
Who Drinks with Blackbeard?
http://www.mazenville.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/01/bbc_blackbeard.jpg
(A sea shanty - Sung as a call and response between the shanty and crew as they labored on a pirate vessel.)
Here be a story
of wit, guts and glory
A captain revered
by moors commandeered
On high seas and shallows
his black crew was feared
Poseidon and Hades,
would drink with Blackbeard
Edward Teach be his Christian name
Taught us the code, through powder and flame
Shanty: Heave
Crew: Ho
Shanty: Heave
Crew: Ho
Shanty: 17
Crew: 17
Shanty: 17
Crew: 17
He had a taste, for pretty French quim
Found just the lass, that suited his whim
Gave her gift, of forty long guns
Smoothed out her trim, so she might then run
Queen Anne's Revenge, thought them not pretty
Come then sweet girl, Let's kidnap a city
Seized all of Charleston
Every beast, bitch and bird
King paid the ransom
And this twas now heard
Here be a story
of wit, guts and glory
A captain revered
by moors commandeered
On high seas and shallows
his black crew was feared
Poseidon and Hades,
would drink with Blackbeard
Shanty: Heave
Crew: Ho
Shanty: Heave
Crew: Ho
Shanty: 17
Crew: 18
Shanty: 17
Crew: 18
Stood tall as a mountain
With black beard in braids
Lit fuses within them
To lead his brigade
King's coffers grew wee thin
Through his wit and his charm
Bounty was given, so he did no harm
But the King had him hunted, could not outrun Fate
Best of the fleet caught him, in a shallow wake
Took five shots to floor him
Twenty knifes for good measure
Chopped head hung to their mast
To claim the King's treasure
Here be a story
of wit, guts and glory
A captain revered
by moors commandeered
On high seas and shallows
his black crew was feared
Poseidon and Hades,
Now drink with Blackbeard
Shanty: Heave
Crew: Ho
Shanty: Heave
Crew: Ho
Shanty: Black
Crew: Beard
Shanty: Black
Crew: Beard
Postscript: Edward Teach (aka Blackbeard) was one of the most notorious pirate leaders during the early 18th century in a time historians refer to as "the golden age of piracy". Among his most infamous conquests was the ransoming of Charleston, South Carolina by blockading her ports. As was common for the time at least 60% of his crew were Black men - many former slaves who enjoyed freedom and equal pay under his flag.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blackbeard
http://www.cindyvallar.com/blackpirates.html
http://m.youtube.com/index?&desktop_uri=%2F#/watch?v=d_2g_kNTBek
She gives meaning to the tattoo on his back
THE SWAY OF YOUR HIPS
Her undulations are all together rhythmic and unpredictable at the same time
Men see her gentle sway and get lost in thoughts of passion and mystery
For they know her waves bring promises of things unknown and pleasure unbound
Her taste is primal and bittersweet
Refreshing and intoxicating
I would gladly surrender to her
We were born in her
Some say evolved from her
She dominates by her very presence
Because she is essential to our joy
Our fulfillment
Our life
The body one moment soft and warm
With ripples that reflect her sun kissed skin
But then stirred to the point where she is granite
Hardened in frosty despair still reflecting the sun but yielding none of it's warmth
Yet I still yearn for her
She is my lover
And when she calls I gladly heed the sounds of her moans and whispers
For once again I will drown in her
Only to find new life and meaning in the sunset off the horizon
Who Drinks with Blackbeard?
http://www.mazenville.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/01/bbc_blackbeard.jpg
(A sea shanty - Sung as a call and response between the shanty and crew as they labored on a pirate vessel.)
Here be a story
of wit, guts and glory
A captain revered
by moors commandeered
On high seas and shallows
his black crew was feared
Poseidon and Hades,
would drink with Blackbeard
Edward Teach be his Christian name
Taught us the code, through powder and flame
Shanty: Heave
Crew: Ho
Shanty: Heave
Crew: Ho
Shanty: 17
Crew: 17
Shanty: 17
Crew: 17
He had a taste, for pretty French quim
Found just the lass, that suited his whim
Gave her gift, of forty long guns
Smoothed out her trim, so she might then run
Queen Anne's Revenge, thought them not pretty
Come then sweet girl, Let's kidnap a city
Seized all of Charleston
Every beast, bitch and bird
King paid the ransom
And this twas now heard
Here be a story
of wit, guts and glory
A captain revered
by moors commandeered
On high seas and shallows
his black crew was feared
Poseidon and Hades,
would drink with Blackbeard
Shanty: Heave
Crew: Ho
Shanty: Heave
Crew: Ho
Shanty: 17
Crew: 18
Shanty: 17
Crew: 18
Stood tall as a mountain
With black beard in braids
Lit fuses within them
To lead his brigade
King's coffers grew wee thin
Through his wit and his charm
Bounty was given, so he did no harm
But the King had him hunted, could not outrun Fate
Best of the fleet caught him, in a shallow wake
Took five shots to floor him
Twenty knifes for good measure
Chopped head hung to their mast
To claim the King's treasure
Here be a story
of wit, guts and glory
A captain revered
by moors commandeered
On high seas and shallows
his black crew was feared
Poseidon and Hades,
Now drink with Blackbeard
Shanty: Heave
Crew: Ho
Shanty: Heave
Crew: Ho
Shanty: Black
Crew: Beard
Shanty: Black
Crew: Beard
Postscript: Edward Teach (aka Blackbeard) was one of the most notorious pirate leaders during the early 18th century in a time historians refer to as "the golden age of piracy". Among his most infamous conquests was the ransoming of Charleston, South Carolina by blockading her ports. As was common for the time at least 60% of his crew were Black men - many former slaves who enjoyed freedom and equal pay under his flag.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blackbeard
http://www.cindyvallar.com/blackpirates.html
http://m.youtube.com/index?&desktop_uri=%2F#/watch?v=d_2g_kNTBek
She gives meaning to the tattoo on his back
THE SWAY OF YOUR HIPS
Her undulations are all together rhythmic and unpredictable at the same time
Men see her gentle sway and get lost in thoughts of passion and mystery
For they know her waves bring promises of things unknown and pleasure unbound
Her taste is primal and bittersweet
Refreshing and intoxicating
I would gladly surrender to her
We were born in her
Some say evolved from her
She dominates by her very presence
Because she is essential to our joy
Our fulfillment
Our life
The body one moment soft and warm
With ripples that reflect her sun kissed skin
But then stirred to the point where she is granite
Hardened in frosty despair still reflecting the sun but yielding none of it's warmth
Yet I still yearn for her
She is my lover
And when she calls I gladly heed the sounds of her moans and whispers
For once again I will drown in her
Only to find new life and meaning in the sunset off the horizon
i didnt read your peoms, was just contemplating your message, and so you actually remember past life memories, thats very interesting...in my life, ofcourse i've read the brian weisses and others, and definitely skimmed the various theories online...but with me it is strictly feelings...not mental hypnotic imagery...strictly feelings, that informs me a little bit to wht i may have been...and another think i would note is profound trauma disables us from really remembering who we actually are and were, and ofcourse born into this world doesn't help...but in ancient lore when this is tackled, they call it, active remembrance of who they really are, and i no many things that bracket this recall... thanks for the posts, ill end up probably commenting again after i read your poems through
I think my memories of past lives stems from a number of things including my upbringing and the fact that so many events in our lives our cyclical ... While I'm not much of a singer - my baritone voice, inherited from a generation of Southern preachers and gospel singers, was strong enough to get me a job at a jazz station while in college ... I've never taken to smoking cigarettes - just the occasional Cuban or Dominican cigar but I'm sure I did in a past life - unfiltered no less (lol) ... there are times I can see myself in those London clubs in the 60s - the stench of beer and fags and piss throughout the darkened room ... And I loved every drop of it
- Witch Queen -
Based on some of my past-life memories…
Let me tell you a tale of another age,
When wicked giants filled with rage…
Met the steel of knights of noble birth!
I was a queen of much honored worth,
My gowns of red silk, my hair black…
And of feminine charms, I did not lack.
No king had I, my throne was lonely…
Though many sought passion’s honey,
In my bed, and many lovers were mine.
Some called me harlot in that past time!
But I was seeking love, my soul pining,
Whilst on lust my flesh was so dining…
My cup sipped oft by princely tongues.
I had many daughters and many sons,
Each one called a bastard or a bitch…
By my enemies who called me: witch.
Nobles schemed to remove my power,
But a witch’s will must have its’ hour…
And each noble who did wickedly plot:
Was brought low, my hot enmity begot.
Their skulls were sat before my seat…
And I crushed them, beneath my feet!
They called me whore, called me fiend,
Now where were they all, to be seen?
My knights found every traitorous cad,
And soon they said the queen was mad.
Once joyful dances in the opulent halls,
Made glad all within my castle’s walls…
When did screaming replace laughter?
My children wept, their lives a disaster.
All I wanted was to protect them true,
And to find love before life was through.
Now I was hated, despised and feared,
And my lovers were not filled with fear.
So I slept alone, and wept in the night,
Whilst my gardens became but a blight!
All around me, my kingdom was falling,
Whilst beyond, I heard a voice calling…
And so one day I rode out of the gate.
I left behind my kingdom fallen to hate,
For someone waited for me in a tower.
In the mountains, both grim and dour…
Which the people I had ruled besieged,
To take me back from where I did flee.
I had found my soul mate, another maid,
And for my time with her, I then paid…
For they made me watch her execution!
I wept rivers wet with blood’s pollution.
They then called me degenerate, base…
Spat on me, tore at my clothes and face.
I was violated, tortured, and dragged…
Before my enemies who then bragged,
How they took my lands in my absence.
Gone were: my gardens’ rosy fragrance,
The flowerbeds were covered in blood.
I cried for them, my tears made a flood,
Upon the floor where my children lay…
Each one slain cruelly: in the light of day.
How did this rebellion come to even be?
My knights were disloyal, betrayed me.
Each one took his turn in my shaming…
Then I was manacled to a stake, flaming.
Mercifully, a sword pierced my breast,
Saving me from burning alive, at best…
And so the witch queen’s reign ended.
I and my children died, our land bent…
As, the flames consumed us, hell-sent.
I would return, to search for love anew,
But that memory was too awful to undo.
It haunts me sometimes when I feel hurt,
And in those moments I long for comfort.
Based on some of my past-life memories…
Let me tell you a tale of another age,
When wicked giants filled with rage…
Met the steel of knights of noble birth!
I was a queen of much honored worth,
My gowns of red silk, my hair black…
And of feminine charms, I did not lack.
No king had I, my throne was lonely…
Though many sought passion’s honey,
In my bed, and many lovers were mine.
Some called me harlot in that past time!
But I was seeking love, my soul pining,
Whilst on lust my flesh was so dining…
My cup sipped oft by princely tongues.
I had many daughters and many sons,
Each one called a bastard or a bitch…
By my enemies who called me: witch.
Nobles schemed to remove my power,
But a witch’s will must have its’ hour…
And each noble who did wickedly plot:
Was brought low, my hot enmity begot.
Their skulls were sat before my seat…
And I crushed them, beneath my feet!
They called me whore, called me fiend,
Now where were they all, to be seen?
My knights found every traitorous cad,
And soon they said the queen was mad.
Once joyful dances in the opulent halls,
Made glad all within my castle’s walls…
When did screaming replace laughter?
My children wept, their lives a disaster.
All I wanted was to protect them true,
And to find love before life was through.
Now I was hated, despised and feared,
And my lovers were not filled with fear.
So I slept alone, and wept in the night,
Whilst my gardens became but a blight!
All around me, my kingdom was falling,
Whilst beyond, I heard a voice calling…
And so one day I rode out of the gate.
I left behind my kingdom fallen to hate,
For someone waited for me in a tower.
In the mountains, both grim and dour…
Which the people I had ruled besieged,
To take me back from where I did flee.
I had found my soul mate, another maid,
And for my time with her, I then paid…
For they made me watch her execution!
I wept rivers wet with blood’s pollution.
They then called me degenerate, base…
Spat on me, tore at my clothes and face.
I was violated, tortured, and dragged…
Before my enemies who then bragged,
How they took my lands in my absence.
Gone were: my gardens’ rosy fragrance,
The flowerbeds were covered in blood.
I cried for them, my tears made a flood,
Upon the floor where my children lay…
Each one slain cruelly: in the light of day.
How did this rebellion come to even be?
My knights were disloyal, betrayed me.
Each one took his turn in my shaming…
Then I was manacled to a stake, flaming.
Mercifully, a sword pierced my breast,
Saving me from burning alive, at best…
And so the witch queen’s reign ended.
I and my children died, our land bent…
As, the flames consumed us, hell-sent.
I would return, to search for love anew,
But that memory was too awful to undo.
It haunts me sometimes when I feel hurt,
And in those moments I long for comfort.
