Message 2 the Seekers and Sowers

The Supreme Goal
Is 2 see The Divine, The Absolute,
The Brahman en ev’ryone and ev’rything.

Good Luck!



Confession, First & Last

A boy easily distracted
By the tilt of a maiden’s bustle
By falling locks, a pair of legs, and
A stout pint

B’fore the new trend
B’fore the brass totem
(Bear, Wolf, Raven!)

{Trumpet Blast}

There was a tyme
(En the long ago)
When eye wallow’d en shit w/ the best of them
And darkness radiated from my ev’ry pore

{One-Beat Pause}

Eye was so far off the beam then
                 so lost en the game
That eye could not see the angles
Or the lines from which they came

A wealth of unpleasantries, eye bore
Not 2 mention my fair share of  guilt
Not 2 mention my fair share of shame (rightfully mine)

[Aside Thru Cupped Hands.]
Rightfully his!

No serpent 2 accuse  / No scoundrel 2 blame

Just me

B’fore the tune caressed my ear
B’fore eye heard the Song of Brahman
And the waters of grace spilt, from lotus 2 lotus,
Ento the corners of my eyes


The sleepless nites were the worst

{One-Beat Pause}

W/ ev’ry pinch of marrow en my bones,
Eye tried my damndest 2 please friend and foe

4 their amusement, eye conjured daemons w/ a shrug
And woefully sought 2 visit ruin upon  Bodies of Light
Taking up arms against ev’rything enside me
                                            ev’rything good, decent,
And right


There was a tyme
When, unconscionably and habitually, eye hurl’d my Trident ento the Sun,
Raising the most terrible storms, eliminating the most beautiful forms,
And evoking from the horse folk
                       from the fay
Athousand headed monsters!

This is where eye chose 2 live / Dig? And
This is where eye chose 2 lay

{One-Beat Pause}

Until that day (en Paris)
When the Merciful Whore found me wanting and
Her sister, Compassion, found me travailing


Still a boy
Still teething

With ev’rything 2 lose
And not a fuckin’ thing 2 prove

{Two-Beat Pause}

They stopped the bleeding
Then stitched my wounds
And after sometyme (seven moons),
Eye scarred

Four hundred marks, maybe more
(So, eye was told)

[Aside Thru Cupped Hands.]
Ya gotta get up real close!
Can’t see nothin’ from afar!

That’s when eye broke the spell,
Fill’d my goatskin with water from the perennial Well,
And quit putting submission on hold

Submission 2 Love
Submission 2 Beauty
Submission 2 The Song
Submission 2 The Work

© LogosVox 2013

The Helen Suite


Amongst The Ruins

Once the unbridled envy of
Realms near and far,

The ramparts of Sparta
Are now
Mere bronze age walls

Walls bleak with soot
And crumbling

Walls surrounded
By lemon groves unattended
And overgrown

{One-Beat Pause}

En the aire of this storied place

Dregs of memory beckon us
To an ancient altar   .   .   .    of
War weary stones

They beckon
And ask for our song,
To shepherd cosmic pow’rs,

Court Mnemosyne
And be strong

To this plea,
We reply

En earnest



Amongst The Angels

What are we to do?

Where are we to find asylum
When the Ground of Being radiates
Thru Ev’rything  and Ev’ryone?

God en all
All en God

What songs are we to sing
When this madness fills our cup?

And fills the Hall?

O! Where are we to dance?

Where are we to raise the huppah
When we are compelled
By a thousand-petaled Rose

To wield a double axe, fall a Tree
And annihilate the Self?

[Aside – The Crows Caw.]





Helen’s Dictum

My Lord
My King

We must kiss
En the Garten
(Standing on our toes)

We must kiss
With our hair tousled
And our eyes closed

My Lord
My King

We must Love Allthings
And Ev’rything

Love Sun
And Moon alike

Love Earth and Skye
And ev’ry black speck
En ev’ry mortal eye

My Lord
My King

We must chop down mountains
We must chop down ant hills

We must suffer their little bites
We must suffer their little stings

My Lord
My King

We must Love

© LogosVox 2013

A Hymn 2 the Seeker

En darkness &
En ignorance,
Let the bullets fly

Let their murmurs placate the sufferings of Perdition
Let their cries permeate, then shatter the City of Dis

Verily, ye need not travel that way ev’r again
Verily, ye need not be counted amongst the Dead

As thou wert born 4 mightier things

Neither sustenance
Nor liberation
Did its labors offer thee

Only wretchedness,
Degradation, & sin!

Its devices did not mean thee well
Its laurels did not become thy brow

As thou wert born 4 mightier things

Hark! A match has been struck
A pan of oil lit . . .

Bless-ed be! God’s kiln awaits thee
Ev’ry bone / Ev’ry measure of flesh
Shall not satisfy Him

He’ll want MORE
He’ll demand MORE

The Way without a way
Does not come cheap


Divine Right,
Divine Truth, & Kinghood!
2 these art thou a rightful heir

As thou wert born 4 Brahma-Vada
As thou wert born 4 mightier things
As thou wert born 2 drink wine, Soma

From the mouth of God


© LogosVox 2013

Rama Prelude № 1

Eye want spiritual orgies, Son!
(At my coronation)

Eye want to wear the crown of my Uncles
And brandish the bow of the Grigori

Eye want Gods and Goddesses
(At my palace door)

Eye want Mountains and Seas and Deserts

Eye want to draw lightning from the skyes
And give birth to a meeting of the eyes

Eye want Knights of Faith, Son!
Breaking bread, drinking wine
(At my dining room table)

Rama! Christ! Mohammed! And Moses!

Eye want orgies, Son!

Eye want orgies
(At my coronation)

© LogosVox 2013

The Next Rabbit Hole

The Mead Drinker drinks. He drinks with the Goddess Saga secretly at her sunken bench. He drinks, gets drunk, disorients his senses and, if he is fortunate, is granted an audience with the Stars; namely, the resident Energies of the darkly lit Collective Unconscious. His existence is a tragic one as he is forever subject to their capricious temperament. They may choose on any given day to bestow upon him lyrical boons, visions, and wisdom worthy of Asgard or they may choose to rebuff his advances and withhold their gifts, leaving his heart and quill lifeless and cold. The Herder herds; he is the “Smasher of the Enclosure [or Obstacle]. He is the “Opener of The Way” and it is along this way, this path, that he guides the aforementioned Stars. Once hidden in the Collective Unconscious, these Energies follow the music of The Herder’s staff into a province of light, wakefulness, and recognition; namely, the Conscious Mind – HIS Conscious Mind – wherein The Herder freely and openly wields these Energies via inspired reason and creative logic. Foregoing the need for and use of intoxication, The Herder’s heart and quill are never cold and lifeless but are always fervent and fierce. One with The Divine, he fathoms deeply and truly the Upanishadic expression, Tat Tvam Asi.