Love (20Seventeen)

From ev’rything u read
And ev’rything u see

It is easy 4 one 2 reason
That Love is absent
That Love is on the run
From Anger, Pride, and Fear

That Love has abandoned us (2 a dire Fate, a loveless State)
And her daughters, Mercy and Grace, are not here

But lo, a jug tips
           a pantry door opens
And Love, barely draped, skips
(Thru a garten of planets and stars)

A chain of flowers
Above her hips

The scent of lilac
Behind her ears

And across her lips

© The Herder 20Seventeen

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Mater (Refitted 4 Twenty-Sixteen)

Most confident –
Eye set sail bravely upon cosmic oceans,
Splash mud puddles,
& conquer distant starry skies

My world (the world shining brightly at her feet) is a world of untold possibilities
A world populated w/ painted ponies & bowls of porridge
A world brimming w/ ballrooms, beanstalks, & gingerbread men

Eye am innocence, eye am faith, & eye am a promise
Eye am restlessness & (of Love) eye am always en need

But, eye fret not
As eye am never stricken w/ pangs of want

Ya see,
Her every gesture / Her every touch / Her every thoughtful deed
Sings 2 me w/ words holy, considerate, & sincere

Words w/ out sharp edges
Words w/ out fear

Soft! My dearest speaks
Soft! She is here

Eye am a Beauty w/ out  rival. Eye am Grace. Eye am Consolation.
Eye am a Light that shines en the Dark.
Eye am the Rain that falls upon paupers & kings alike.

Eye am Wisdom. Eye am Patience. Eye am the Perfect Stone.
Eye am Lioness & Queen!

Eye am All-Things & Everything
U should ever need.

Eye am a butterfly kiss
On the lips of every child.

Eye am Love w/ out measure.
Eye am Power w/ out equal.

Eye am Paradox.
Eye am Sacrifice.

Eye am Mother!
Eye am Life.

© The Herder 2016

Soma from the Well: Gustav Meyrink

I warn you about this while I recommend it because it is the only thing a person should do and at the same time the heaviest sacrifice one can make – you must call on the innermost core of your being, the core without which you would be a lifeless corpse (or not even that), and order it to lead you by the shortest route to the greatest goal, the only one that is worth striving for, even if you do not realise it at the moment; you must order it to be merciless in leading you without rest   .   .   .

 Once on the spiritual path the only ones who can turn back – no, not even turn back, stop and look back and turn into a pillar of salt – are those who have not made the vow. A spiritual vow is like an order and, in this at least, God is the servant who is charged with carrying out that order.

      .   .   .   I warn you: do not pledge too much! Otherwise you might end up like the thief whose bones were broken on the cross.

Gustav Meyrink / The Green Face

Meyrink

Padma

These are new revelations,
Olde, abandoned diamond mines
W/ new expectations

Drums strike! Trumpets blare! Cymbals crash!
And voices, exquisitely raised, reach Palaces on high

Nev’r mind the smoldering cinders
Of a once great love / Now, hopelessly lost

Nev’r mind those Mongers of War
W/ too much sand and blood on their hands

Nev’r mind the dry river beds
Nev’r mind those crys from the waste land

Nev’r mind the bollocks!

Nev’r mind those derogatory scenes –
Miss Knox arriving at the Duke’s Ball

Miss Knox wrestling w/ gravity’s angel
(En order 2 stand tall)

Nev’r mind her suffragette jargon
Nev’r mind her manifesto
Brimming w/ all that self-delusion
And all those lies
(Catching her Papa by surprise)

Why so much drool on the chin?
Why so many slaps 2 the face?

Hark the Junky (still counting his scars)
Your contusions,
Not your charms, make the case, Belle.
Rubbish en / Rubbish out!

Nev’r mind the Tyrant’s executive decrees –
His tyranny, like all dross, will fall away
When the folk awake, breaking his spell,
And demand 2 be free

Dontcha do it
Dontcha dare

Dontcha dare
Journey from that immovable spot!

Not when she’s so close
Not when she’s there

Padma walking along the Ganges en Benares
Pigtails en her hair

Mind her rice bowl (nev’r empty)
Mind her breast (always fill’d w/ light)

Mind her dark skin, the skin of the fair-est
Mind her dark eyes (how they illumine the skye at the nite)

Mind the orange ripples of her bridal sari
Mind the prāna
Mind the flow

Mind how the winds gather around her ankles
(How they billow, how they blow)

Mind how she dances
Mind how she sings

Mind the ghanta
Mind its toll and how it beckons the devas when it rings

Again,
Nev’r mind the bollocks!

Mind Padma walking along the Ganges

She knows
She knows
She knows

The song
Is the thing

©LogosVox 2014

MONKEY

From the quill of Sun Wukong
From the ink well of his glorious past

A slip of arrogance,
A whit of swagger, &
A bit of bombast

Ev’ry inch a poet, a prophet,
& a priest!

W/ each swing of my cudgel
Mountains fall, valleys form,
& rivers once deep

Run dry

[A Choir Of Monkeys En Burnt Cork
& Lips Grotesquely Painted Ivory White.
]
Brio! Brio! Brio!

Truly, the sun has embraced countless moons
Since last eye fell 2 my knees
B’fore the Spirits of green wood & clear stream

But on this daye, en this stronghold of the dead, eye am here
On my knees en petition, en prayer

As the burden of my transgressions, my sins, have grown too fat 2 bear
Much too much 4 even these broad, hairy shoulders

[Aside.]
Shoulders that scarcely find room en rarefied aire!

So eye have come here 2 purge them all!

En this blasted furnace
En this morbid hall

Ev’ry slight
Ev’ry hurtful word

Ev’ry ill-ententioned
Blow 2 the gut

Ev’ry peach pilfered &
Drunken maleficence

Ev’ry lengthy, lusty stare, & remark
& ev’ry challenger’s face pushed ento the muck

{One-Beat Pause}

The entirety of my Life en the clouds has led 2 this;
A symphonie of realised emptiness, sacrifice, & torrential bliss

& it’s plain for even the thickest of thick-headed monkeys 2 see

That if eye am 2 open the way &,
After 500 years buried beneath stone,
Herd cows ento The Pure Land

Eye’ll need 2 stop leaking rays of light
Eye’ll need 2 cleanse this body, a body of cosmic flesh & cosmic bone

Eye’ll need 2 stop leading w/ my left
(En ev’ry . . . single . . . round)
Boasting of my trickeries
Boasting of theft

& eye’ll need 2 do more than proudly wear these scars
. . . iron remnants of a beautiful corruption clumsily put 2 rest

{Fingercymbals-Twice}

What eye’ll do is this –

Eye’ll find the source of the Ganges
& 4 a spell, put down my shoulder armor & cudgel

Eye’ll fall 2 my knees
Eye’ll wait 4 the moon 2 wax

Eye’ll close my eyes, open my arms
& wait 4 the grove 2 bloom, the egg 2 crack

Waist deep,
Eye’ll circumvent the old ford
& not tarry

Eye’ll wash behind my ears
& b’tween my toes

Eye’ll brush away the scars on my shoulders
Eye’ll brush away the scars on my soul

W/out buckling
W/out being told

{One-Beat Pause}

Truly, ol’ Monkey does not wish 2 be forgiven
Truly, ol’ Monkey does not wish 2 be free of his past

[A Choir Of Monkeys En Burnt Cork
& Lips Grotesquely Painted Ivory White.
]
Brio! Brio! Brio!

Ol’ Monkey wishes merely 2 be free

At last

© LogosVox 2014