Yesterday I heard they sent a rocket ship
around the space station, birds.
And tonight I have arrived by sea
from a distant memory, moon.
A comet dropt from the stratosphere crashes
through the lily pads of my mind.
"Every day I would. I can’t
function without – "
Why do we fly in the name of Apollo?
"I don’t feel it necessary to know
exactly what I mean."
1000 years crawl past,
her desire will be silent no more.
Why do we say recall?
I only felt this this once, my Laurel Tree.
The moon hangs, like the main decoration on a very eerie christmas tree, gloomily in the night sky.
Its gentle glow illuminates the world which is otherwise consumed in darkness.
The giant orb, plump like a ripe fruit-
yet glazed over with a chilling moss, inches higher and higher through the starry Milkyway.
When the clock strikes twelve it reaches summit and stops - as if basking in its own awe.
Gently, ever gently the music of the moon wafts through its carressing waves of moonshine - which hug the world below...and in the light of the full moon the fairies seem to dance and glow.
Their tunes and merriment are in celebration of the magic of dreams and fantasy in the air;
But suddenly it's not there anymore, and terror strikes the fairyfolk as they are abandoned in pitch black -
The moon has disappeared.
A candiflossed cloud eclipses the globe and steals the magic from the world.
But soon the moon is free from its disguise and the merriment continues.
Late into the night, when the goddess has long since begun her decent, like a silver'd over balloon, deflating - ever so slowly.
The fairies go back to their flowers and trees, go back to sleep and the world begins to lose its magic again...the soft symphony starts to die, in a slow pianissimo.
And just as she disapears, and sinks into the horizon, just as the dawn approaches, the world is engulfed in a deafening silence - in anticipation.
And as if the interval had gone on for hours, the sky bursts out into a carcophany of trumpets, and orchestra;
a crescendo jubilation as Apollo then edges into existence.
He brings a new kind of magic;
The magic of life.
All this I see, all this I hear when I play my sonata.
I feel the softness of the moon.
I feel the magic as I dance across the keys.
I see the world in a different light, through the music notes sketched into my mind.
And then as the night dies, I experience the rebirth of a new day, through the rise and fall of my melody -
All in the span of just a few minutes and then its gone, all gone -
And I am left starring, alone at the blank pages.
A small cairn, built under August moon,
stood tests of time.
Chess they did play - with wintr'y gusts.
Fence did they - showered in Spring's soft pollen.
Beneath all toils the tiny cenotaph held.
'Till one day observ'd by youth amid campaign
and taken for guidance.
These are the splintered mirrors
Where the world sees itself in fragmented
It cannot believe how much it loves looking
How completely under the spell of its own vanity
I dreamed I had a tree growing in my hand
A lost survivor mottled pink walking a burnt black
There is the root where the shadows thrive
Earless and eyeless tunneling through the strata
To get to the cavern and lake to drink with the spirit horses
To fill themselves with the dreams of all those who have come before
I drank until my ego was drunk and as if falling from a great height crashed to a heap of pieces
Slowly, dazed, i crouched in the dark and began assembling myself
It must have taken a thousand years
When I climbed the roots to the surface I fell in
Love with the first girl I saw
She was lovely and winged and clothed in a fabric made of stars
I prayed to Aphrodite to weave a spell and at once came the miracle called birds
They carried me to the highest peak where I reached for the girl of my obsession
The girl made of water
The girl with the night between her legs
Who offered me the silver cup of the moon
I drank the girl made of water long and deep
until her heart was in mine
The shadows that crept in the roots of the tree
Deep beneath the burnt land
Toil and stain the hollow earth
And even in redemption, even as the leaves come again
Their threads trapping light
And the green grass pushes its way through the earth's
Scab, the underground lake draws the man of vision
His God at once dark and light
Apollo driving his sun chariot
Dionysos dancing wild in the belly
Of the beast
And we mortals walking the tightrope
Between reason and passion
The Angel Beast both god and man
Sunset of Apollo
Rises upon the goddess of the moon
Love of all
Drifting by the lake
Once a fulfillment
Structures that held
A deity together
The spiritual duality
The celestial azure
Spreading like haze
Upon tranquil blaze
Soothing by the arctic breeze
Like indigo crystals
Seas of endless art
To pass on
To what feels like a dream
That felt incredible
Forces that were inseparable
Upon the soil
Of the crimson stone
To feel rhythm of the velvet heart
An ocean that spreads
Nourishing the seeds
Becoming the verdant children
With halos of blissful pigments
Into a mixture of tears
Blessed by mother Gaia
Blossoming for all to see…
Ever layer that covers the sky
Beneath the end of every lullaby
Holds a gift
That lies and says goodbye
Driven & deprived to be nocturnal
Sleepless nights Cursed in vain
Any man to have you…
Thorns of pain that feels eternal
Magnificently a breath taker by divine
Hallucination of the fibbed eye
To tell such lies
You were created by Aphrodite
Crafted by serenades
Beauty carved by the finest blade
Hazel diamond shades
It’s often said, weakness for elegant grace
Drives the loveliest man insane
Reminiscing in the hollow mind
Echoes from the cryptic name
I close my eyes
To hear the melody of the rain
Indulging in each drop that makes a note
Forming an orchestral perception of a dream
Recollection of memories…
Gentle flowing through the entrance of the stream
Anything for one more glimpse…
Lamenting the past
As I wake
Wrapped upon the cloak of the sea
Glancing at the beautiful moon
Spiraling my soul around her celestial body
As if I Projected
From the stars to the ocean
Reflection of my Luná
I hear the symphony
Calmly and peacefully
As I daze away
Losing grip of the moon
Just to stay…
That walks the fields of heaven
Arise upon accession
Through the meadows
With no aggression
Sphere that shines down before me
From the vessel
Aqua that is the key
That carries life
The dust & bones
Becoming false love that turns into stone
My failure for another
Misconception for love is lost
Despite of my action
Empty like deep space
Searching from dream & reality
For the sweetest taste
Asking questions from the wise Oracle
Will my heart ever find a mate?
I don’t feel whole…
Harps of the angel
Ever so gentle
Like a gust of euphoric fragrances
Scenting the air
As if the wind could
As marvelous as
Upon golden thrones
Visions of sunset mountains
Portraits of ocean blue fountains
Parallel between the Elysium fields & Sorrow acres
Blocked by shields of prayers
Of ecstasy & enlightenment
As I grasp a breath of air
I close my eyes
A vineyard of pleasures
And grassy lands that seek adventures
With bouquets of red wine roses, but with
Thorns that end sentiments
Gazing one poses
Forbidden until time fades…
Grab both your hands
Maybe the next lifetime
Where daylight shows its beautiful anthem
Never in all the life times had I lived
For this aesthetic moment
It’s a beauty of torment
A commitment of energy
Time and century
From one past to present
The future flourishes
From the tiniest grain
That grows life
To where our souls might cross one day
In the sphere
Green plants from the beautiful ground
Surrounded by the beautiful white angel
Look after her soul
Protect her from who they once stole
Care for her
For she brings heart & soul
As the story goes,
The weak & the needy
Dream for no blackheart
Shot by the arrow that purges
Love each other
Never fall apart
As Apollo sun sets
Silhouettes of the appealing moon
Dream I’ll soon
To what becomes
A forest of past memories
Sketches of my truly dearest
Along the midnight blue river
An ensemble of creatures
That roams and creates pieces
Played to unburden the soul
As I lay beside the oldest tree
To watch the night sky
The beautiful moon
Amusement to the eyes
To stare upon this
Of green nightly shine among the forest
To see it
Would be a lie…
Privileged to have created a night
A sea of enjoyment
From the one dream
Failure to grasp beauty
As if kismet intended to be…
Love each day
As if it’s your last
For one day
Maybe we could lie in the grass
For all it’s glory
One day will write a story
If not now
Then a lifetime is worth waiting
It's been forever since I posted a poem here. School is drag lol I hope to post more writing here when I'm not busy. Did a version 2.0 of my favorite poem (recycled some old stuff in it) I'll add more stuff later, but for now enjoy what I have!
"Happy Birthday said the grandma
The boy blew out is candles
With a smile on his face he said
"I'm 13 now. So that means I'm a teen!"
When they reached Plymouth Rock
No one suspected
That there was going to be
In the metalloids (d) category
I know it ads up to four so its thirteen
That was the first question on the test
Finches are so cool
Colorful they are
Some have long beaks some have short
But Darwin found thirteen new breads of finches
Tiger so wild and free
Instead of being locked up in a cage
Free they are meant to be
Thankfully thirteen countries still have roaming tigers
"Can any one tell me how many are in a bakers dozen?"
Spoke the teacher as the students began yo think
Some said 12, others said 18, and even 21
The class was hushed by he teacher as a kid spoke,"It's 13 miss."
March 11, 1970 was just an ordinary day for a launch
Any could watch is from a distance
There was a boy at a window watching
He then grew up to realize his 13th birthday was Apollo 13 launch date
Whats the death card
It's just a card in a Tarot deck
A skeleton riding a horse with a black flag is it's face
Funny thing is it is the thirteenth card in the deck
Why are there so many stripes on the flag?
There's not that many
The red stripes have one more then white
The stripes represent the thirteen colonies
Does any one know how many knots are in
A noose knot formerly known as the hang mans knot
It's used for other thing besides that
The thing is there are thirteen looser knots in it
Have you seen that movie that was supposed to be horrific
The friend was confused as to what she was saying
You don't know it do you? It was funny as hell
Well she was talking about the movie "The # 13"
Jason is such an innocent name
So sweet yet no one names their kid that
When its the name of a killer in the movie
"Friday the 13th" is a scary movie that has thirteen all over the place
Triskaidekaphobia is not a special phobia
Its not an object to be classified
It's a real thing and people who have it
Tris is three in Greek. Deka is ten and Kai combines to make 13
Wisdom has built her kingdom
She has set it on top of twelve pillars
Who have ate the meat of the pigs and turned water into wine
And have invited Pharisees, adulterers, meth-heads; all combined.
Then Jesus said
"I'm pretty sure hominins are homo sapiens who had back problem."
And they all laughed.
Socrates and Aristotle
Plato is undeniable
Something like eating food in the secret
Gloating on society like a stolen bullet.
"Are we right or are we right"
Or are we like Apollo
Who ride the muse and have love affairs with every girl in sight.
They have no shame at all
All them Freudians and the unconscious
Bearing information that is tied to foreigners
Who would steal and murder
Burn incense to Baal and other gods
Who misleadingly guide us like untamed dogs.
We have evolved
Brought the flies with us and turned them into stone
Patiently awaiting for the next evolution
Or a different revolution to tie us down
Like the gods we are not...
Through olive trees in wooded groves
across sparkling streams swiftly he goes
in a golden chariot that is keenly pulled
by four black Panthers, to the joy of their lord
For this is Dionysus lawgiver wine drinker
god of peace son of Zeus and Persephone
he holds tight the reigns of vine and ivy
to reach the shrine of Apollo finally.
He dismounts his ride still holding his thyrsus
that fennel staff adorned with Ivy poisonous
topped with a titian pine tree cone
here to pay homage to one of his own.
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
To pelt the world in ice and graves.
To feel how quiet this part of town feels
When the lites turn on we will not sleep.
We will not dream of anything tonite
We will run like the chinook salmon runs
To flood the world in rivers alive
With pain the pain of peace.
The pain after loss.
What will come here when the hedges pop
Out like boxing gloves.
Out of me is songs apollo sang.
Out of him and I we dance with
Wounded leggs. And prove
How sweet salt tastes on gashes of death.
How sweet to taste imortality when
The cars speed.
What now is a world full of saints.
To fill markets with fresh fish.
And throw the bottles of whiskey
Where they belong. Where they are warm
Proves how hot my sweater gets when my
Forhead clams up.
My scarf unwraps and we run
With out our cloths down pearl street.
Let there be muse forever on feet and side walk.
We mustnt forget why we break free from
The shakles of eternity.
The horrible shakles of wild life.
Are finally pure gold.
The softest medal to bend.
And we leave the tempting
Medal behind and choose to
Drink the rain drops.
Awake your mind's precious weigh;
Does it drive, your soul's wizen health.
And he to you is willing; you can't inveigh!
Vivid is Apollo, god of light, trust his songs:
Gain your providential solemness with fewer aches;
Until, a Divine you breed with you called spiritual Eros:
Spirituality exists where ever our struggles;
An issue of how we fit into greater schemes,
That wisdom links, as 'one man in you' with powerful gods,
That ritual enlightenment your sin wipes.
Depend in that god,he leads you high:
Must tolerate, forgive and gain yourself.
And in One new day,you displaced like a sleigh;
To keep your soul far into his everlasting bowers, Honoured.