| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/21/2007 10:12:51 PM | Cultic urge!
The frankincense is boiling.
Thus, I turn down the flame.
Angels are here; and they
Whisper is loud silence.
Inspirited, I breathe in the
Spirit’s soul; and thus One
We become. I am but a vassal;
Slave to the gods. I’ve been
Mulct of that once was freewill.
Come. Awaken herein this
Hermetic cult. This ethereal
And fatidic manifest that refutes
The essence of reality. We all have
Mantic powers. Do you dare to
Profess differently! Come. Meet
God with me. Wax beyond mortal
With me. Feel the Pneuma in thy mind.
The spirit’s undulation in thy veins. The
reality of a paradise said not to exist.
Come. Inflame with me. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/21/2007 10:57:51 PM | sigh. Love your stuff. Makes me feel home.
I miss it there, somewhere
Between the misty layers
That spiral through creation.
Remember those plastic cogs
That made Mandela’s
With coloured pencils?
Everyone in the Northern hemisphere
got one for Christmas or Chanukah,
or some celebration that enabled gift giving.
Those things were training wheels.
Spoke of creation to untrained minds
Set in motion by a curious natures
Exploring inner realities.
Left the common track
And trampled social mores in the meantime.
Greenwich meen time.
Although, that’s changing
What with the speeding up of things.
Quickening.
What did they think those solar flares were up to?
See
So few people understand the sun.
It’s a cold place.
Don’t understand?
Hold a crystal ball in the sunlight.
Let the light shine through it.
It will burn
Baby burn
Whatever that beam draws on
Will burn.
Ya, be careful.
But I’ll tell you,
That crystal ball,
That did all that burning.
Cold, man
Cold as ice.
It’s just the messenger after all.
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/22/2007 2:45:45 PM | | Beautiful write, Ravin.... And I love your picks. Congratulations! I know that you feel proud! | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/22/2007 6:38:49 PM | temporal rythems of silveratic slice
captivate and enthrall the crimson flow of static glory
captured in the deathening silence of the servitude of gold
the sun no longer carries its rays into the world of coloured glass
as the eternal life is held prisoner to the laymen eyes
wrapped in marble and in coloured vail
carved by the hands that once gave life to david
and washed in the tones of mutted death that rise
for age old candle burns
in the temple of mans disillusion
no longer born of the limb of olea
now mere tinder for the inquisitors fire
the old testiment flames rising from the midnight blaze
in effort to cut the heart of the dove
to feed the embattled lions
shadowriter | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/22/2007 6:44:19 PM | | Damn Shadowriter, this poem is a Masterpiece..... I love reading into every allusion. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/22/2007 6:50:36 PM | | thanyou my friend...your words are greatly appreciated...my mind is tortured tonite by words of .......i feel I am sinking ....... | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/22/2007 6:56:49 PM | I think we all feel this way at times.
We feel the universe; and thus, we carry a great weight.
That goes for all writers.
But these intense moments bring out the best in us. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/22/2007 6:59:48 PM | Hi J - it has been a long time but I find that summer is for living and there is plenty of time on a cold winters night to let our poetry flow. I do like to relax and read the poems out here though. Keep writing and I will keep reading.
Suns of ages lost
Tiny wanderers of light and life
Only pin pricks in the sky
Opening up questions
From the book of the dead
We try to fathom what it all means
The great minds get together
Mapping out equations
When in principle
It’s still unfathomable
Deep in the seas of time
Gravity ponders eternity
While our minds are still too young
To really see. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/22/2007 7:00:00 PM | decend my heart to see what beholds
the octarian cycle shall give rise
on the scept given twice plus one
the hords of gavienien will climb for the darkend pits
where only tears of sorrow flow
behold the march of madness cries
for the spring of the eagle will fall
in crimson rapture
as find we he of the dark trinity
in palms and olea sprig in hand
will call forth the comming of the risen one | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/22/2007 7:11:23 PM | Autumn, you are a poet true and clear.
I’m finding that poets have a world of our own.
Only we, all writers included, seem to really feel the words.
I recognize when they just flow naturally.
And this takes deep mental cultivation.
But I adore it. And I see it in you.
And I understand what you mean. I’ve been reading a great deal of poetry also.
It truly helps the craft. It truly broadens our thoughts and horizons.
Shadowriter, a true Classic Artist. Your writes are laced with so many levels of literature. It’s truly amazing.
I know that you are fond of the old testament. And thus, I know you realize that with more knowledge comes more sorrow and heaviness. Just know that none of us are alone in this. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/23/2007 8:04:04 PM | tattered prose catalistic thros
wrapped in thoughts beguiled do ride a riddle of tempetuous motion
words of mere form as do disguise meanings cast to darkness
minds eyes see more of hearts and souls
when leaticus streches thin the glassious waves of timeless pools
the mirrors formed show times of yet unkown images
mere meandering follies do disguise the faltered dreams
speak to me of narcissus and the fallen souls of midas longing
iccarus decends upon my nightmares
grasping mere hairs of hope to weave unto a new wing to fly
to reach the sun ends the embattled souls conquest of the nightmare realm
pools of blackness reflect the endless toil of nightime stars
while light escapes from bitter dreams
words cannot reflect the ends seen of the ropes of time
the faltered steps of infants toil lay burden to the sands
and mans quest lost to my dreams
spoken in words forever silenced by the dying moon
speak to me in wispers of the liquid tears
where only heartache can flow
and devinity tastes of saline candles
that burn in darkened temples where the times stand still
unnurtured by by winds of burning sadness
besige my dreams to the fallen angels guiding the mid-day pose
on knees prostrate to the sacred stones on westward suns in fallen snows
white blanketed by the dying souls of the forgotten shadows
children cast to the fires of endless change
in hopes of greater rewards
their screams flow in silent ebbs of crimson liquid fire
spreading fast upon the nightmares of the prophets fadden griefs
beseach the divine ritious one to ends unseen upon the small waffer
eucharist pleas of the saved do call out to no avail
for all is lost upon the helm of the driving pleague that guides us
in our nightmare odysse
shadowriter | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/24/2007 9:28:09 PM | | Wonderful write, Shadow... wonderful write! | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/24/2007 9:29:20 PM | This wild maze.
Who’s the card shark?
And why do we pray to it?
Long ago checkmate arrived.
But we still dance. Damn! How
Good it is we’ve learned how to dance.
Now the guilt ensues.
Because Father new the Truth.
“He’ll be alright; for you’re a
Woman of concretized elements.”
Chant with the choir. And tell
The card shark that it just ain’t
Funny anymore. Tell the card
Shark that for me. Can you do that? | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/24/2007 10:17:03 PM |  Hello my friend.....J.........lovely poems! A twist...on yours....you know me!
Maybe give you a thought or a laugh? Heh?
~~~~~~~~~~~~WILD MARE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wild mares...........do wander free.............
knowing of their heart.............
God sees........................
Let them roam ........among the grass...............
Lovely........searching for the best.......................
Gentle souls.........like women ...........roam.............
Often may not come back home!
Love of life.............and sensuous nature.............
always searching..............
the unspoken.........pleasure!
Lifting up to natures................smelllllllll
Wanting more of life.........to dwell.............
Often .....infinite....in their desire...........
Wild mares..................full of fire!
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/25/2007 12:06:35 AM | Luvin' your poem Jules and NW...this poem and the others^^^^ as always
The cards were dealt a long time ago...
When the past comes full circle,
what your heart embraces at that moment is all you seem to feel and know
Torn between the fate you hold and what could have been
Feeling helplessly defeated,no escape to either road
Seems the cards have been stacked in a game one was never intended to win
But the card of knowledge is that ace left in the hole...
So change the stars
in the skies
to simplify
and make it real
to fit your heart and eyes....... | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/25/2007 7:38:47 AM | All forces can be controlled
with inner strength for you have will power
Never giving up in the optimism of hope
Avoidance is not a quest for wisdom
Shared souls in friendship ensues mercy
Wretchedness in a concealed passionate heart
The determination rewarded
Living with snakes, lions and dragons
Never ask for my forgiveness you must find
liberation in faith for the refuge is in Him
It’s courage to state my truth
Humanity takes me at times concealed with flowers
read in the first words named book of Genesis
running to get to the gospels
Lemniscates is the symbol of infinity
I am still a learning child | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/25/2007 6:05:46 PM | What's my Isaac?
Thoughts taking me back
to another place and time,
one man's journey....
three days that must have felt like an eternity
Thoughts of my here and now...
in this place
left to permeate my way through
these seemingly,neverending shadows.
And now my thoughts are taken back once again
to another place and time
as I recall the two that refused to eat at the king's table....
Father,
did you send the catfish,
bringing me" burdens with shoulders"
so that I may not only show you
how I feel,
but to show you what I am prepared to do?
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/25/2007 7:50:35 PM | I can't be with you today
So close your eyes and think
I'll be with you in the kitchen
I’ll touch your skirt as you stand by the sink
I'll be with you in the bedroom
Waiting patiently on our bed
Just close your eyes and think of me
Relive the memories in your head
I'll stand by you in the bathroom
That’s a strange place to meet
I'll smile with you playfully
Even as I brush my teeth
I'll be your light in the darkness
Shining bright all the way through
You only have to watch me glow
To know that I’m thinking of you
I'll be the music you listen to
I'll be there with every song
I'll laugh with you and sing to you
I’ll comfort you when your day has gone wrong
I'll be the sun that reflects from your hair
I'll be your warm embrace
I'll be the hand to lead you to safety
I'll be the soft touch on your face
I'll be your clock simply ticking
Reminding you of all the times
We've shut the rest of the world out
We're in our own little world, yours and mine
I'll be the moon as it glows
On the water as it sits still
For I have loved you always
And I know I always will.
Though you may not see it physically
As you live your life today
Just close your eyes and think of me
I will not be far away | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/25/2007 8:12:30 PM | Jules… that poem is filled with love, knowledge and wisdom. I thank you for sharing with us these parts of you.
Casheyesblond…your works are reflective of scriptures and deeply hidden understandings. I thank you for the spirit that you bring to the thread.
Jetsfan704… this is a real mellow, but intense poem. You show a great affection for the person this poem is directed to. I thank you for the inspiration. And I welcome you here. Come back and share with us when you choose. We would truly appreciate that. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/25/2007 8:22:45 PM | Esotericism/
Lascivious chants echo through the sublime;
And set afire the spirit leaps within the heart.
There’s a dialogue rupturing forth within the
Subterranean, rifting the delicate poise apart.
Mulct of composure. It’s her very essence that causes this.
How does one capture the presence of the unutterable!
This very truth brings home the reign of dolor;
The color of ambivalence, and yearns that cry incorrigible.
To sit afloat: pensive, uneasy, athirst, and deaf.
Deaf to the rebukes that seemingly edify the soul.
Deaf to the voice that internally beckons to stop.
Deaf to those who take refuge in scriptures of old.
But a man of muddy sands walking the valley
Of forbidden lands to feel the touch of verboten
Palms/ as David for Bathsheba to repent in Psalms/
While kef the breath tremors as the spirits beholden.
Megrims attack vivaciously the senses.
Man is teary eyed and swollen wit repentance.
Repeating a mantra that bleeds ascension.
Only to sacrifice to the womb of turbulent tension. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/25/2007 8:30:22 PM | battered moonlight decends upon the valley of fallen glory
feel the strength of its dying rays
epic flowing of passions remenents calling to freedoms fadded night
ezrah know of kingdoms follies
as seeks he his justice flow
in wine and spirit rise the tempest seeking solice for the broken soul
shattered among the sands of the glass
where time knows only beggining and end
in the light of the silv er tounge taste denial of covetous words
raptured in the purple strain of midnights hours glow
the moon beguiled by fallen light bitter to taste
candle light of saturns soul illuminates the darkened temple walls
stained with the orange glow of tainted snow
mere frozen tears of those betraid by the tortured moon | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/27/2007 8:18:59 PM | | I read every line growing more and more intense, Shadow. I know people here blow A lot of wind...But in Truth... you have the gift. You earned it. And thus, if it's metaphorically appropriate to say, the gods live within you. Simply put, your works have a grand effect upon the reader. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/27/2007 8:27:51 PM | Esotericism somewhat clear.
But a dastard is I; I, who
Was once dauntless. Courage
Is but the dearth of this soul.
Who can dare descry the
Spirit’s dolesome ordination.
Why must Satan break loose in us?
It lives in the esoteric bibelot;
Breathing in our very vision.
How does one boycott existence?
How does one boycott the diurnal
Illusions that impress upon the psyche;
That photic illusion of freedom;
That grand caricature taunting me
Bane. I stare intently at the mental
Gisant of Kunta Kinte; wondering:
How does one redeem the first whip
Of sickness? The world is afflicted with
Labefaction. The predicant is a man
Of the closet. Usurious tithes have taken
Precedence over the sanctification of our
Souls. And in the umbrage is where the
Spirit dwells staring into the sidereal
Thoughts of Astarte; this goddess of my
Forbidden lust. But my every impetration
As of the last fortnight is to make love to this
Anathema more so cursed than Lilith. Where
Hath my sanity taken refuge? Only two years
Ago, I was a man destine for the kismet of
Martyrdom. Now to see me, is to meet the
Rabbi of hell. Now to see me, is to meet
Satan chanting to God; chanting the doxologies
Of Job. | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/27/2007 8:29:37 PM | | I agree with you J. about our Shadow^^^^ ....although I should add,the gift indeed lives within you as well! | |
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| Abstract Rhythms
Posted: 7/27/2007 8:37:17 PM | | Casheyesblond...your heart is within my spirit. I thank you for your support. I thank you for your heart! | |
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