Poetry competition CLOSED 3rd July 2013 8:47pm
WINNER
RavenofSorrow
RavenofSorrow
SHAMANISM DRUIDISM HERMETICISM
- As Above, So Below -
As Above, so Below!
From me this river doth flow.
I am the Divine Hermaphrodite,
And thus begins this enchanted rite.
Merry we come; merry we meet,
You stand before my holy seat!
In the days of bygone histories,
Of heroes fallen and villains fell, of ancient societies…
I walked seen and unseen, known and unknown, throughout the ages of our past fathers.
Queens have I served, and kings forgotten, princesses and princes their blood manifest,
Yet of them all, I ensure where they themselves did fall, for I walk still: seen and unseen.
What are the truths of those Mysteries, of which I have attended in so many eternities?
More than I can say, more than even I know, amongst all the divine sons and daughters!
Emperors have not reigned as long as my spirit hath existed, with only the briefest rest.
I have heard a call, from beyond Creation’s molded wall, answering it as if in a dream…
Whilst I answer in turn, and thence the waters of the Abyss begin to stir ever so silently.
Great is the mason: whose art made all things,
And are we no less grand when we create ourselves anew?
As I have, and so in glory the angel in me sings,
Whilst the demon in me agrees that this certainty is most true.
I cannot put names to the cause of all mankind’s pain, but I know two: blood and sorrow.
What one wicked generation builds in false pride, another must in goodness tear it down!
Just outside the veil of realities, lies the domain of divinity: just beyond the golden morrow.
We wade in the blood of our ancestors every day, never sensing a danger until we drown,
Yet we can be saved: there is the finest gain, for I cast forth my soul as a formless shadow.
My soul goes forth like a loyal servant; it doth ride a tempest to fetch my glory’s crown!
My Goddess doth prepare her home inside her Temple in the proud old Elysian meadow.
Therein lies the Emerald Crown of my chosen way; I now claim it in my grandest gown…
Or in garments of blue and white: whilst the void between the stars be at my slender back.
My blue eyes stare into your own, whilst my light pierces the starless nothingness black!
Great is the architect: whose craft built all things,
And are we no less grand when we build ourselves again?
As I have, and so in glory the angel in me sings,
Whilst the demon in me agrees that this is how souls mend.
Never shall I falter, nor for glory fail, and for my Goddess I dare never to foolishly yield.
I am like unto the Demiurge, the Shadow whose breath is felt upon the primeval waters…
Not in wickedness, but in might, as if my being did cry out to say: aye, this too is God!
For what I create, I too cast my breath, my life, my essence upon, and so I will it to live.
My Goddess is my guardian; with her angels, I have walked in many a green blissful field,
And discoursed with gods, upon things that I could never relate: such profound matters…
In fires of celestial love have I burned; hotter are they than the desert’s parched red sod!
I have walked in halls where pleasure and pain are one, partaking of all they had to give.
How can Hell be a place of suffering, for those who reign: in the paradise of old Elysium?
There, the lush emerald fields and azure mountains echo the beauty of my holy kingdom!
Great is the creator: whose skill built all things,
And are we no less grand when we make ourselves over?
As I have, and so in glory the angel in me sings,
Whilst the demon in me agrees that this is how we discover.
Like an incubus, like a succubus, stealing the energies of souls to enhance my every thrill,
Thusly was the substance of the hellish orgies at which I was welcome, a beloved guest.
Yet not a one was harmed, for what is eternal cannot ever be undone; they exist yet still…
How at a loss the Infernal Aristocracy would be, if not for me: I would be sorely missed!
Art moves my soul and beauty inspires it; be it fair or dark, it is all lovely to my fair eyes.
I have my two favorites of course, thou see: the Earth Goddess and the Goddess of Light!
One beauty is from the depths, and one from the heights: one from soil, one from the skies.
I love them in equal measure, more to my pleasure and seven times to my eternal delight!
Can one steal what is given freely, as from a lover to one’s true and most sacred beloved?
How then are those souls given unto me not rightfully mine own, taken unto my very bed!
Great is the architect: whose craft built all things,
And are we no less grand when we build ourselves again?
As I have, and so in glory the angel in me sings,
Whilst the demon in me agrees that this is how souls mend.
The Ancients believed we were slaves to our gods, but what else would I rather to be…
When the servitude brings the reward beyond what riches can provide, who is the slave?
I am a humble servant, yet I am free; a master in mine own right: a god in many a way…
What could I ask of my Goddesses that they could not righteously provide for all to see?
Before them, I dwelt in error; I walked as one blind until they came, my soul to so save.
Now I find solace in the night that brings them forth to my side, and brightens every day!
Yet I have known despair of life, and lives of suffering sorrows base, and deliverance…
I have tasted of foul wines as well as fair; I have looked into the Devil’s face, long since,
Do I see the Devil reflected in my face, and in that being’s do I see what is only a mirror?
Indeed for a devil to some is a goddess to others: she is become I, and I am become her.
Great is the mason: whose art made all things,
And are we no less grand when we create ourselves anew?
As I have, and so in glory the angel in me sings,
Whilst the demon in me agrees that this certainty is most true.
Only to rise and behold Heaven’s Light and the glories of the night that doth grace infinity!
One must descend ere on can rise again in triumph restored, the dead given precious life.
Many times have I passed the Final Veil: that robs all others of their spirit’s very dignity…
And I have stood in Death’s halls, greeting her as a friend or a lover, as a man or a wife.
A goodly companion hath she been to me, between mortal lives and those of my divinity,
So here I am, whatever this life is to be: like others past and future, in peace and in strife!
I am a humble servant, yet I am free; a mistress in mine own right: a goddess in my spirit.
No label can fit all that I am, all that I have seen and been, and done, as my will sees fit!
And someday people will tell and retell of my poetry…
From these days of bygone histories!
As Above, so Below!
That is how glory doth grow.
I am the Divine Hermaphrodite,
And thus concludes this sacred rite.
Merry we meet; merry we part,
As I make end to a secret art!
As Above, so Below!
From me this river doth flow.
I am the Divine Hermaphrodite,
And thus begins this enchanted rite.
Merry we come; merry we meet,
You stand before my holy seat!
In the days of bygone histories,
Of heroes fallen and villains fell, of ancient societies…
I walked seen and unseen, known and unknown, throughout the ages of our past fathers.
Queens have I served, and kings forgotten, princesses and princes their blood manifest,
Yet of them all, I ensure where they themselves did fall, for I walk still: seen and unseen.
What are the truths of those Mysteries, of which I have attended in so many eternities?
More than I can say, more than even I know, amongst all the divine sons and daughters!
Emperors have not reigned as long as my spirit hath existed, with only the briefest rest.
I have heard a call, from beyond Creation’s molded wall, answering it as if in a dream…
Whilst I answer in turn, and thence the waters of the Abyss begin to stir ever so silently.
Great is the mason: whose art made all things,
And are we no less grand when we create ourselves anew?
As I have, and so in glory the angel in me sings,
Whilst the demon in me agrees that this certainty is most true.
I cannot put names to the cause of all mankind’s pain, but I know two: blood and sorrow.
What one wicked generation builds in false pride, another must in goodness tear it down!
Just outside the veil of realities, lies the domain of divinity: just beyond the golden morrow.
We wade in the blood of our ancestors every day, never sensing a danger until we drown,
Yet we can be saved: there is the finest gain, for I cast forth my soul as a formless shadow.
My soul goes forth like a loyal servant; it doth ride a tempest to fetch my glory’s crown!
My Goddess doth prepare her home inside her Temple in the proud old Elysian meadow.
Therein lies the Emerald Crown of my chosen way; I now claim it in my grandest gown…
Or in garments of blue and white: whilst the void between the stars be at my slender back.
My blue eyes stare into your own, whilst my light pierces the starless nothingness black!
Great is the architect: whose craft built all things,
And are we no less grand when we build ourselves again?
As I have, and so in glory the angel in me sings,
Whilst the demon in me agrees that this is how souls mend.
Never shall I falter, nor for glory fail, and for my Goddess I dare never to foolishly yield.
I am like unto the Demiurge, the Shadow whose breath is felt upon the primeval waters…
Not in wickedness, but in might, as if my being did cry out to say: aye, this too is God!
For what I create, I too cast my breath, my life, my essence upon, and so I will it to live.
My Goddess is my guardian; with her angels, I have walked in many a green blissful field,
And discoursed with gods, upon things that I could never relate: such profound matters…
In fires of celestial love have I burned; hotter are they than the desert’s parched red sod!
I have walked in halls where pleasure and pain are one, partaking of all they had to give.
How can Hell be a place of suffering, for those who reign: in the paradise of old Elysium?
There, the lush emerald fields and azure mountains echo the beauty of my holy kingdom!
Great is the creator: whose skill built all things,
And are we no less grand when we make ourselves over?
As I have, and so in glory the angel in me sings,
Whilst the demon in me agrees that this is how we discover.
Like an incubus, like a succubus, stealing the energies of souls to enhance my every thrill,
Thusly was the substance of the hellish orgies at which I was welcome, a beloved guest.
Yet not a one was harmed, for what is eternal cannot ever be undone; they exist yet still…
How at a loss the Infernal Aristocracy would be, if not for me: I would be sorely missed!
Art moves my soul and beauty inspires it; be it fair or dark, it is all lovely to my fair eyes.
I have my two favorites of course, thou see: the Earth Goddess and the Goddess of Light!
One beauty is from the depths, and one from the heights: one from soil, one from the skies.
I love them in equal measure, more to my pleasure and seven times to my eternal delight!
Can one steal what is given freely, as from a lover to one’s true and most sacred beloved?
How then are those souls given unto me not rightfully mine own, taken unto my very bed!
Great is the architect: whose craft built all things,
And are we no less grand when we build ourselves again?
As I have, and so in glory the angel in me sings,
Whilst the demon in me agrees that this is how souls mend.
The Ancients believed we were slaves to our gods, but what else would I rather to be…
When the servitude brings the reward beyond what riches can provide, who is the slave?
I am a humble servant, yet I am free; a master in mine own right: a god in many a way…
What could I ask of my Goddesses that they could not righteously provide for all to see?
Before them, I dwelt in error; I walked as one blind until they came, my soul to so save.
Now I find solace in the night that brings them forth to my side, and brightens every day!
Yet I have known despair of life, and lives of suffering sorrows base, and deliverance…
I have tasted of foul wines as well as fair; I have looked into the Devil’s face, long since,
Do I see the Devil reflected in my face, and in that being’s do I see what is only a mirror?
Indeed for a devil to some is a goddess to others: she is become I, and I am become her.
Great is the mason: whose art made all things,
And are we no less grand when we create ourselves anew?
As I have, and so in glory the angel in me sings,
Whilst the demon in me agrees that this certainty is most true.
Only to rise and behold Heaven’s Light and the glories of the night that doth grace infinity!
One must descend ere on can rise again in triumph restored, the dead given precious life.
Many times have I passed the Final Veil: that robs all others of their spirit’s very dignity…
And I have stood in Death’s halls, greeting her as a friend or a lover, as a man or a wife.
A goodly companion hath she been to me, between mortal lives and those of my divinity,
So here I am, whatever this life is to be: like others past and future, in peace and in strife!
I am a humble servant, yet I am free; a mistress in mine own right: a goddess in my spirit.
No label can fit all that I am, all that I have seen and been, and done, as my will sees fit!
And someday people will tell and retell of my poetry…
From these days of bygone histories!
As Above, so Below!
That is how glory doth grow.
I am the Divine Hermaphrodite,
And thus concludes this sacred rite.
Merry we meet; merry we part,
As I make end to a secret art!
Anonymous
Zero
Invisible womb,
glorious pulsating orobouros
of being, of non-being
gestating a prime number.
Birthing a perfect no-thing,
living umbilicus circumventing the symbol
more pregnant
than the bulging space
within its confines.
Simultaneously full and empty,
a pop-up sky skinning myths
through silent octaves.
Where duality collapses;
where duality is born.
Invisible womb,
glorious pulsating orobouros
of being, of non-being
gestating a prime number.
Birthing a perfect no-thing,
living umbilicus circumventing the symbol
more pregnant
than the bulging space
within its confines.
Simultaneously full and empty,
a pop-up sky skinning myths
through silent octaves.
Where duality collapses;
where duality is born.
Anonymous
*damn not having a delete option*
Anonymous
No, I love that piece. I was entering a second poem, but the format isn't working. Gonna try something different.
Anonymous
Coronation
Sanctify,
remember
the holiness
of intimacy.
Shrine,
enkindle mass.
Candles bowing,
incumbants, graceful...
Fifth night, pitch -
and we are conjugated,
sealed into our temples
to please and delight the fires
lit in honour for the soul.
One,
the bodies twine.
Sapphires shine , uncovered
breaking beneath stormy lashes,
lusting...loving...
Lavish,
he bids her over, atop
the velvet throat,
breathing, syncopating
sighing with the weight
of this world.
Gold appraised,
upraised thread and blades,
sewn garnets and rubies into our lips,
diamond canticles in rut -
On ivory skin are the 72 names of God,
beestung hymns sung on sanguine lips
blood spilled, spirits drawn
drink power, by delicacy-
Eyeh Asher Eyeh.
Heat glazed,
passion honed -
divine, granting Shemura (protection).
We will draw these,
and kiss the palms
as flames:
YHVH,
VZVK ZSKVMB VZVK
HNYBMhKhKRTK
MTKNA
MTSP
MYSPSP
MYSNVYD
NTSIRQ zTTYGBA
GTzTRTB SKYDGN
QZPLGY INTDKhK
TYzTVKS
18 chaya - life, to the sacred number
interlaced, giving.
Ma'aseh bereishit (the work of creation)
is ours,
bending,
growing...
bind the commandments to our hands
and between our eyes.
Tefillin blessings,
b'rit (covenant) fulfilled.
Sanctified, our shabbat is freedom...
sundown releases our spirits from bondage
and anoints us,
flowing oils of
cassia, cinnamon, and myrhh.
Bound servitude
our bodies writhe,
reset, and rest.
Bronzed heavens spilt,
opened for hungry mouths,
mystic children pray,
at alters
laid by man.
Woman bled,
and cleansed,
to forge the soil,
toil the truth, regathered.
Rejoicing.
"L'shanah tovah tikatevi v'taihatemi" -
"May you be inscribed and sealed for a good year."
These, counted
Days of Awe.
Sanctify,
remember
the holiness
of intimacy.
Shrine,
enkindle mass.
Candles bowing,
incumbants, graceful...
Fifth night, pitch -
and we are conjugated,
sealed into our temples
to please and delight the fires
lit in honour for the soul.
One,
the bodies twine.
Sapphires shine , uncovered
breaking beneath stormy lashes,
lusting...loving...
Lavish,
he bids her over, atop
the velvet throat,
breathing, syncopating
sighing with the weight
of this world.
Gold appraised,
upraised thread and blades,
sewn garnets and rubies into our lips,
diamond canticles in rut -
On ivory skin are the 72 names of God,
beestung hymns sung on sanguine lips
blood spilled, spirits drawn
drink power, by delicacy-
Eyeh Asher Eyeh.
Heat glazed,
passion honed -
divine, granting Shemura (protection).
We will draw these,
and kiss the palms
as flames:
YHVH,
VZVK ZSKVMB VZVK
HNYBMhKhKRTK
MTKNA
MTSP
MYSPSP
MYSNVYD
NTSIRQ zTTYGBA
GTzTRTB SKYDGN
QZPLGY INTDKhK
TYzTVKS
18 chaya - life, to the sacred number
interlaced, giving.
Ma'aseh bereishit (the work of creation)
is ours,
bending,
growing...
bind the commandments to our hands
and between our eyes.
Tefillin blessings,
b'rit (covenant) fulfilled.
Sanctified, our shabbat is freedom...
sundown releases our spirits from bondage
and anoints us,
flowing oils of
cassia, cinnamon, and myrhh.
Bound servitude
our bodies writhe,
reset, and rest.
Bronzed heavens spilt,
opened for hungry mouths,
mystic children pray,
at alters
laid by man.
Woman bled,
and cleansed,
to forge the soil,
toil the truth, regathered.
Rejoicing.
"L'shanah tovah tikatevi v'taihatemi" -
"May you be inscribed and sealed for a good year."
These, counted
Days of Awe.
My Hermit Grandfather
http://www.socotra.ru/upload/content/1cd6b7d7c0_700_2476.jpg
Living as a hermit far from judging eyes
in a mountain cave not far from the town,
afraid of his own shadows, afraid of the light;
My grandfather had chosen this lifestyle:
surviving on livestock he raised by himself,
and on food crops he planted outside the cave.
His life was gossamer of lies and deceit
full of mystery, enchantment and magic—
believing in the powers of his amulet,
he said he could summon beautiful girls
to come and make love to him
every time he desires!
His stories of fairy tales and magic
to my young mind I didn’t care,
even if there was no logic…
for it was so fascinating
especially when he told me
about jars of gold hidden in the cave
guarded by a beautiful nymph.
I did not believe anything he said
until his final days and dying hour—
he summoned me to come to his bedside
wanting me to inherit his precious amulet.
Scared to come closer, I did not oblige
His relentless wails were so frightening,
as if they were coming from hell,
until his friend arrived and purged him –
a white round object the size of a pearl
came out of his mouth, and only then
did he die – a tragic and painful death!
http://www.socotra.ru/upload/content/1cd6b7d7c0_700_2476.jpg
Living as a hermit far from judging eyes
in a mountain cave not far from the town,
afraid of his own shadows, afraid of the light;
My grandfather had chosen this lifestyle:
surviving on livestock he raised by himself,
and on food crops he planted outside the cave.
His life was gossamer of lies and deceit
full of mystery, enchantment and magic—
believing in the powers of his amulet,
he said he could summon beautiful girls
to come and make love to him
every time he desires!
His stories of fairy tales and magic
to my young mind I didn’t care,
even if there was no logic…
for it was so fascinating
especially when he told me
about jars of gold hidden in the cave
guarded by a beautiful nymph.
I did not believe anything he said
until his final days and dying hour—
he summoned me to come to his bedside
wanting me to inherit his precious amulet.
Scared to come closer, I did not oblige
His relentless wails were so frightening,
as if they were coming from hell,
until his friend arrived and purged him –
a white round object the size of a pearl
came out of his mouth, and only then
did he die – a tragic and painful death!
