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Carve a picture of your face into the Halls of Time
Preserve yourself forevermore
In the history of humankind
OBEY -the Universal Law
DO WHAT THOU WILT - Harm Not
Scrape the sky with your canines
Make the people sing your name
Slave for no divine reward
And fear no eternal flame

Devil may care,
Live and let live
DO WHAT THOU WILT - Harm Not

We are a miraculous animal
Tricking ourselves into spurning our own gifts
Overcaffienated/Undersatisfied
Our eyes firmly planted
In the center of the sky
We've spent so long waiting for angels
No one remembers:
We Are Divine.

DO WHAT THOU WILT; Defend Thyself
DO WHAT THOU WILT; Indulge Thyself
DO WHAT THOU WILT; Enjoy Thyself
DO WHAT THOU WILT; Respect Thyself

I Am God
You Are God
God Is A Lie
I Am God
You Are God
God Is An Idea
Born In The Minds
Of Us,
The Inventors
God Is A Tool
Used For Control
His Soldiers Are Fools
Losing Their Souls

DO WHAT THOU WILT
BUT FEAR NO GOD
DO WHAT THOU WILT
GOVERN THYSELF
DO WHAT THOU WILT
PROTECT THY WORLD
DO WHAT THOU WILT
BE WHO YOU WISH
DO WHAT THOU WILT
HARM NOT
WASTE NOT
DO
WHAT
THOU WILT
something scribbled in the same notebook as my previous entry. i'm guessing written around 2013.
All others talked as if
talk were a dance.
Clodhopper I, with clumsy feet
would break the gliding ring.
Early I learned to
hunch myself
close by the door:
then when the talk began
I’d wipe my
mouth and wend
unnoticed back to the barn
to be with the warm beasts,
dumb among body sounds
of the simple ones.
I’d see by a twist
of lit rush the motes
of gold moving
from shadow to shadow
slow in the wake
of deep untroubled sighs.
The cows
munched or stirred or were still. I
was at home and lonely,
both in good measure. Until
the sudden angel affrighted me—light effacing
my feeble beam,
a forest of torches, feathers of flame, sparks upflying:
but the cows as before
were calm, and nothing was burning,
nothing but I, as that hand of fire
touched my lips and scorched my tongue
and pulled my voice
into the ring of the dance.
It rains.
A truffled scent
glitters
in dead leaves,
naked trees.
Transudation
into the depths
of the night.
13.12.15
~~~
Thank you, deeply, to all the friends that so kindly read, liked and supported this poem! Here, to you all, at Hello Poetry, cheers, the prize is yours!
25.12.2015
Anything visible, and
anything that can be grasped by thought,
is bounded.

Anything bounded is finite.
Anything finite is not undifferentiated.
The boundless is called Ein Sof, Infinite.
It is absolute undifferentiation in
perfect,
changeless
oneness.

Since it is boundless, there is nothing outside of it.
Since it transcends and conceals itself,
it is the essence
of everything hidden and concealed.

Since it is concealed, it is the root of faith
and
the root of rebellion.

As it is written, "One who is righteous lives by his faith."
We comprehend it only by way of no.
"Since I am Infinite Space, and the Infinite Stars thereof, do ye also thus. Bind nothing! Let there be no difference made among you between any one thing & any other thing; for thereby there cometh hurt."
~ Liber AL vel Legis (The Book of the Law) I:22
This sweet
Tangerine Dream
Seems like it will last beyond
The cadence of our swaying bodies
And the flickering flames.
The line of our forms,
Fluttering through the buttery warmth
Like silver and gold knives.
I sharpen on you
And you draw your edge against mine
And in that moment, we are both so sharp
And eternal,
That seems as though this will never dull,
Our feet will never tire,
And the flames will never pass into ash.

But a dream is just that;
Temporary and as lasting
As the sweet, cloying nectar
Of a tangerine.
Can I see anothers woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see anothers grief,
And not seek for kind relief.

Can I see a falling tear.
And not feel my sorrows share,
Can a father see his child,
Weep, nor be with sorrow fill’d.

Can a mother sit and hear.
An infant groan an infant fear—
No no never can it be,
Never never can it be.

And can he who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small.
Hear the small bird’s grief & care
Hear the woes that infants bear—

And not sit beside the nest
Pouring pity in their breast.
And not sit the cradle near
Weeping tear on infant’s tear.

And not sit both night & day.
Wiping all our tears away.
O! no never can it be.
Never never can it be.

He doth give his joy to all,
He becomes an infant small,
He becomes a man of woe
He doth feel the sorrow too.

Think not. thou canst sigh a sigh,
And thy maker is not by.
Think not, thou canst weep a tear,
And thy maker is not near.

O! he gives to us his joy.
That our grief he may destroy
Till our grief is fled & gone
He doth sit by us and moan
Legs hold a torso away from the earth.
And a regular high poem of legs is here.
Powers of bone and cord raise a belly and lungs
Out of ooze and over the loam where eyes look and ears hear
And arms have a chance to hammer and shoot and run motors.
     You make us
     Proud of our legs, old man.

And you left off the head here,
The skull found always crumbling neighbor of the ankles.
Tonight, your
hands
are singing the
piano,

and the fading
stars of
blue float
in the night

and my silly
heart
resists falling
like a feather-
gravity,
    gravity,
          g
          r
          a
         v
        i
     t
y

who are you in
the white light
of fluorescent bulbs and
reverie
that manages to
pull me into orbit?

You can see that
I'm a meteor who
cannot find
her ground-

So in my hectic
flight,
my chaotic dance
within the
black,
I'm going to
trace patterns
on your
music-hands
piano-hands
your planetary
solar hands
and try to be
your
satellite
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