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The great bird is conceived in a glistening eye
a mythical wonder waiting to be formed
coiled in patience under palest skin
waiting to unfurl its majestic wings
a cold steel blade unlocks its cage
blood must flow to bring it life
its freedom found in fragmented bone
the bars that block its sight are pulled back
hands reach into the great cavern
grasping the wings to set them free
at last in splendour and magnificent awe
the blood eagle is seen to take flight and soar
The blood eagle was a mythical and particularly gruesome form of execution by the ancient Vikings.  It involved carving the shape of an Eagle into the victims back, exposing the spine and ribs,  the ribs would then be severed from the spine and bent to each side and the executioner would then reach into the back and pull out the victims lungs and place them in such a way that they would resemble the furled wings of a great bird.
Come to be
Then in the Night
Redeemer of what is Right
Light up this Love
that you speak of

Be our crescent hint of Hope
What else remains...remains
Of this time and space
feeds sustenance like
Tree sap and Earth
un-Earthed
Birthed
Monu-mentally

Sacred
and
Holy.

We have Minds
That know no bounds
Thoughts as Sparks
We send them out

On Golden Wings
The Conscience Sings
A symphony of Energy

One Age ends
Another begins
No more
will the horror
carry over

Just resounding ~

Sounding
Strings
Vibrating
Harmony

Sacred
and
Holy.

Come to be
Then in the Night
Redeemer of what is Right
Light up this Love
that you speak of
In response:
Yes, we all have this moment in history to be Heroes. We claim it when we hold ourselves accountable and in attendance.

I'm off the slippery soap box now...
Thank you for listening.
I have a friend
close to the end
he talks fantastically about all of the places he has been

His body tired
save for those eyes
which burn brighter than sun tracing an arch across the skies

He says 'Of all the things I know
of all the things I’ve learned...
anywhere you go
the good things must be earned.'

Safe and sound
both feet on the ground
he seems impervious to all the ******* going on around

and when he speaks
though often brief
you hear a man who knows the meaning of true happiness and grief

"How is it I work each day
when aching bones demand respite?
What makes me sit composing verse,
when others sleep into the night?"
(From 'The Worms that drive you')


His one life goal
just to share
the words that cause the sleepless nights, the ones that rattle round upstairs

And oh my soul
was bought to bare
by the words which where exactly what I didn’t want to hear...

"Have you wondered how tomorrow looks,
when you've lied about today?
Have you squandered opportunities
when you've refused to play?
Have you sought the possibilities?
or broken through the ruse?
Have you shed your limitations?
tried to fill some bigger shoes?
Does it all really matter…
that your world is locked within,
That the things which hold you back
are simply things you revel in?
That your greatest limitations
are the ones you self impose?
and the key which locks the door
is locked outside the door you close?"
(From 'Limitations')

"To loose the joy of purpose is
to loose the will to try
and when the spirit of endeavour's gone
the soul begins to die"
(Title unknown)

"Then the sun comes up with a glorious show
And the nuclear dust in the air is aglow
The rich and the famous are dead in their beds
and the ***** and the cockroaches nibble their heads"
(Title unknown)


I have a friend
when shuffling with the crowds
as everyone looks down he holds his head up in the clouds

And though dismayed
the time had gone so soon
as he walks amidst the chaos he hums a gentle tune…

"Who am I and what am I
and what have I to show?
And should I be concerned
that very few may care to know?"
(From 'Soliloquy')

"To look upon my megre works
as worthwhile in the scheme of things,
[Is] to nurture somewhere in the soul
the song which satisfaction sings"

"The hourglass
[will] reach the time
when all life’s frantic urgencies evaporate like wine"
(from '8')


though memories fade
words grow like seeds
taking root within the hearts and minds of anyone who heeds

"[I’ve] seen troubled waters pass me by
from torrent flow to pebble dry
From softly spoken words of love
where teardrops fall to pools of blood

So verily I say to you,
take heed my friend or feel the pain,
From one who knows the way of things
from one who sorts the chaff from grain
(From 'Rule of Chance')

Go outside and look around
the simple things in life abound
The wonder of the detail small
enthrals the mind and makes it all

It’s all before you spread about!
you make the choice YOU WORK IT OUT!
It’s all a state of mind you see
and it’s the simple things that set you free"
(From 'The Simple Things in Life')


(C) bazookio 2014
This here is a wee ‘Ode to Marshall Gebbie’, Prolific Ninja Wordsmith; Family member; and friend.
Italicised words are particularly favourite sections of larger poems written by Marshall, which I have surgically removed and grafted amidst a few of my own meanderings.

Listen to the tune here if you like:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UdWZdy4wdxk

or read more of  what rattles round in Marshall's head here:
http://hellopoetry.com/marshal-gebbie/
The fiscal snare is drawing tight
Putin’s day... now courting night,
Rouble tilts vertiginously
To Satan’s **** religiously.
Fiscal snare is drawing blood
A trickle then... is now a flood,
Russia’s central bank adjusts
But ineffectually, combusts.
Hard line prospects elbow dance
Aligning for assasins lance.

Perhaps….
Better now, the Devil known
Than facing down an Unknown throne…..
Facing down an Iron call
With finger poised in nuclear thrall.

What choice now for ego’s Prince
Retreat from Eastern Ukraine’s wince?
Retreat Crimea’s balmy shores
To face the nationalistic howl of hordes?
Brinkmanship…the other way
A gamble that the West might sway?

Either way the game is up
Now bitter wine brims Russia’s cup.

M.
Bovarism

Once you begin to see it, you don't
Once you don't, you have captured it
The great divide then comes together
The colors splash with nothing

Everything and nothing at once
Feel the spirit of yourself
Within all that lives and dies
You become whole

I am that I am also that I am not
When my memories call home
I will be amongst the universe
Or I will become the universe

Im coming home
 Dec 2014 Phosphorimental
axr
They were masked
with obedience of terrorism on their lips
shoot people mercilessly
played with their souls
in their eyes, no sign of remorse
that dreaded night
when Mumbai cried rivers of blood
death toll increasing with the politicians giving zero *****
ten men killed approx 164
so many injured
so many scarred
lest we forget them from our hearts
martyrs left a legacy
they were many other than Salaskar, Kamte and Unnikrishnan
They played with blood in
Taj, Oberoi, Cama Hospital, Nariman House, CST and Leopold Café
their minds were moulded to be like this.
the innocent tried to hide in hotel lobbies
she watched her husband die
and then she died a silent death
they shot her unborn child
they ignored the infant's cry
they killed humanity
they came with guns
tied their hostages to a pole
and had fun.
The bomb exploded
shattering all their body parts
nothing but chunks of human flesh here and there
the innocent hid themselves in a room
took up the phone and fumbled words
they found the innocent
and...nothing.
the phone line went dead
6 years later,
we still can't forget
Today marks the 6 years since the 26/11 attacks in Mumbai. Proper justice was never served.
read more here
http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/2008_Mumbai_attacks
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