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Oh fair mortals, heed my call
For I am the God of the hunt, mighty and tall
In forests deep and meadows green
My presence is felt, my power unseen

With bow in hand and arrows true
I roam the land, my prey in view
The beasts of earth, both great and small
Are subject to my aim, one and all

Oh how I revel in the thrill
Of the chase, with every skill
My keen eyes scan the terrain
For my next target, I shall not refrain

From the mighty stag with antlers wide
To the timid hare, I do not hide
For I am the master of this game
And all creatures within, know my name

But do not think me cruel or cold
For I am also the protector bold
Of balance in nature, I ensure
That life and death remain pure

So heed my call, oh mortal kind
For in me, your strength you'll find
For I am the God of the hunt
And in my realm, all creatures are one.

So when you wander in the wild
Remember me, the God of the hunt, mild
For in every creature, my spirit lives
And in their survival, my power thrives.
Anais Vionet Jan 2
I tried to draw the attention
of the disinterested God
who builds the weather.

“Send us snow - just a few feet -
make our Christmas fantasy complete”
I pleaded, but she never interceded.

Angels, that will-less posse of hers
only seem to watch earth’s slaughter
as the wind carries a warm disregard.
Peter (my BF) flew out last night. #harshrealm

(*BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: posse = a friend or working group*)
Where Shelter Dec 2023
In God’s No~Fly Zone

blessedly, so many of you are
unaware of the full color spectra
that be can seen only when an
age of experience has been reached,

reached, not attained, for the no~fly
zone is no place to be, without any
redeeming colorations, it is dark hued
twilight that inhibits vision clarity,
a precursor warning of the hungry
darkness
that offers to swallow one
into shades of sad remorse, and other
miseries

How came I to earn this distinction,
was not by acting out, rather by inaction,
the failure to pick the  correct fork in a
life of sentence diagramming, sentence
in the prison sense, all my sentences,
broken down,  no connection sensible
to the next phrase, next phase,  so I
sit beneath my vine and fig tree, unable
to fly, unable to tear shed,
grounded, pounded in my head
Mark Wanless Sep 2023
what we call gods
do not care they
do not exist
xjf Sep 2023
Promise kept, for the sake of promise kept.
Robes worn, for the sake of robes worn.
Wedding bands, and oming hands.
The value in virtue, I will willfully adorn.
Its tightening locks of golden strands
the lightning rocks me, but it understands.
I must work through what I've made,
I trust the solace in this, a stoic slave.
I picked my lot and hold it fast,
I'll stick my spot, this mold is cast

Doubt will cause a shadow
and I've drunken all I had, so
a deep drink in divine, then have your spew.

Trust in the voice
that made this choice,
and for this lifetime, actually see it through.
neth jones Aug 2023
who re-marrowed this hollow tree ?
thought themselves of mythology ?
processed death into the dying **** ?
blunt   blackened hope
           buttering up what god ?
                                   what mischief maker ?
: Loki the crow with his promethean nose ?

covering his crooked actions
                          the defiling of a life
  murderer
  a coward of failed coupling
congress    a night down the pub
    the gender polar pair collided
            sottish upon their union
genitals bragging through urgent gaps in clothing
but that urgency deflated
it muttered away
he felt baited
and
  humiliated    
             he committed to ******

crude amateur throttling
  a ***** sogged brick  
an indiscreet botch up
    and a stolen wheelbarrow  
        to ferry her away

'The Mourning Tree'
           despondently sifts for nourishment
its gummy combs of branches
  sashing particles  from the night solution
the tree ; a cavity
too verrucose and fleshy to whittle the winds
                                               or fife a tune
a rubbery craggle     foreign against the landscape
should   rather   make out its' habits
                  off the floor of a deep sea trench

roughing in the corpse
head first   down the gullet thirstily
skirts up and claustro
between spread limbs
to ***** puckle in the hollow tree
evicting the bird of Minerva
      ‘whoing’ into the charged sky
  blooded over
             the night blackens further
               brooding on the event

who re-marrowed this hollow tree ?
married themselves to a mythology ?
force fed life   engorged within deathly seed ?
upended crime     in lieu of a sacrifice
           he offered a glass of woman
               to oder the night
he strummed teasing fingers
      raked them humming
         through the heady resistance of the air
electric creeping warmth   over the skin
                        erecting the hairs
   museum silence
   an arena    as fraught equal    between magnets
       clouds cut the moon
      moon cut the eye
    sinful kiting to mend a link
ramblings kinked
he makes sparking incantations to the gods

one scatting madman
one corpse woman


that same bled night
where the furrowed fields
            meets natures disarray
children approach this woodland border             
children with empty baked bean tins
      that they joined with lengths of string
trying to reach out their ears
    extend their timid range
       to sprites, nymphs, pucks or faeries
an older kid strikes up a cigarette
one of the younger ones squats to ***
         and be mocked

one brave girl of ten years
  runs a tin and the line into the woods  
it jerks taunt after about thirty paces
she wedges it in a tree fork and runs back
the children crowd the receiver tin
spooking themselves
eavesdropping   
        upon the hollow wisdom of small gods
            that mask their shame in the dark
influenced by ‘ Who put Bella down the Wych Elm? ‘

misuse of the word 'sashing'
tumbledry Jul 2023
I can only ponder what it means
To fall out of love with someone.
Did you douse yourself in kerosene?
Did you yell for Vulcan to take pity?
Waiting for the warmth to overcome your body?
Or maybe love to you is the calm of the sea.
Did Neptune not bring you the tranquil waves?
Wash away your doubts and drown your worries.
Or maybe. Maybe it was me.
The cold because I didn’t hug you long enough.
The rising sea levels because I didn’t wipe away the salty rivers on your cheeks.
The gods had nothing to do with this.
Me?
I was with Mars.
Waging war against my entire being.
If only I knew what Aphrodite
Was taking away from me.
Larry dillon Jun 2023
He boulders down the cave.
Tries to navigate by feel,
in the darkness of night.
Head splits open,he sails limp like a leaf,
A miscalculation made from traversing
In the absence of light.

Deja vu-he stirs wake-
the magic lamp in his sight:
The thing he sacrificed it all for.
He rubs it at once.
A djinn reveals itself on the barren,cave floor.
"Thrice wishes granted, and no more."

Clearing his throat the man spoke.
"I'm a poor man.
I crave the allure of being rich.
but I'm no fool!
so I'll ask of you more than this.
Give me sight to see all things-as gods do!
my genie,this,I wish of you."

The djinn nods,
A first wish comes true.
the man is omniscient.
He learns he is to die in a minute or two.

Backed down,yet,
already fond of the idea of eternal youth,
he pipes up,
"I've prepared my wish number two!
make me immortal,
so I may live long like gods do!
my genie,this, I wish of you."

the djinn nods his head,
The second wish comes true.

The man is pinned by a boulder.
An earthquake collapsed his escape.
He can see the truth of all things-while he waits.
won't be free for 2,000 days.
Save for the only thing he can't see
is what wish the djinn...would make.

"Tell me what you would wish,
my genie, this, I wish of you."

But the djinn doesn't nod his head.

Instead.

Comes near.
slithering words like a serpent,
Into the man's ear.

"This is the one wish I can't grant.
If you wish to be privy to my soul,
You must willingly give it to me.
You know when your time trapped
will elapse.
Give up your last wish
once let loose from calamity.
When you are unburdened by that boulder,
you ALONE will know the whims of a genie."

2,000 days pass.
The man is at last free.
"My genie,this, I give to thee.
my last wish, now,
make your dreams come true!
For over five years I've waited,
wishing to see...
your mind is the only secret in the universe
denied to me."

"Three wishes.
three chances to find the truth within.
You lent me your last wish:
You foolish wish-maker;
You never realize how this all will end.
As I've done each time from before,
for my wish we start over,
I return it once more to how it begins.
this time-loop is the price you will always pay,
for trying to peer into the soul of a djinn."

"One of us stuck in a lamp.
The other stuck in a cave.
Two lives trapped forever,
because we're both stuck in our ways.
We could have wished ourselves out,
but we are ego-slaves:
We only want what we want
with each wish we are gave."

"Your words approximate reality:
So call me genie or djinn.
We go round and round the wheel,
over and over again.
Three chances to change the outcome.
Each time you fail you're undone,
by each wish, realizing too late:
there's nothing to truly be won.
Eclipse- twist, tears.
hubris rips apart your humanity.
Burns out your decency.
like exposed skin
on the surface of the the sun."

"How can you learn how to unbecome?
Free yourself from what pride has done?
Even the gods are trapped like us.
Each caged in by the rules
of their own rigid plan.
Everyone wishes to be like the gods;
no one ever wishes to be a better man."

"Understand this one truth
and you will no longer feel powerless:

"Truth Is the difference
between shadows and silhouettes."

-
A story of a man who finds a magic lamp while trapped in a cave and the folly of wishing to become a deity.
Mel Kay May 2023
There's an oasis in my desert.

Palm trees and koi live here where sands are soil and winds are thick and wet. Cloths that fall from sky to floor, made from a million counts of thread. A beige place, now pastel mixtures of blue and green. Unlike anything the gods could ever dream.

In my body there's a desert oasis on which even I haven't laid my sight. And as I sit here still, I feel it moving and humming like a generator when there's no light. Vibrating auroras through the skies of an African night.

In my soul there's a desert oasis. One that has betrayed the sight of many as mirage. A dissappearing trick, a myth, a facade. Here is where the weak are left for dead. The cruel collaboration between Hathor and Set.

In my body, where my heart stays,

between the fragile spaces,

there's an hourglass that holds my soul in which there's a desert...

where you'll find an oasis.
Rambling, it's s been a while. Hi though...
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