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Michael R Burch Feb 2020
Cherokee Travelers' Blessing III
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

May Heaven’s warming winds blow gently there,
where you reside,
and may the Great Spirit bless all those you love,
this side of the farthest tide.
And wherever you go,
whether the journey is fast or slow,
may your moccasins leave many cunning footprints in the snow.
And when you look over your shoulder, may you always find the Rainbow.

Published by Better Than Starbucks
Shofi Ahmed Jan 2020
The Great Wall of China
goes on mile after mile.
Keep walking high
rise onto roofless towers!

We have day and night
a coin has two sides.
There are here and hereafter
hell and paradise
a mundane earth
and a heavenly sky!

Walking on the wall
one might wonder
to take which side
left or the right?
Both look same now
but was built
to save only one side.

Choice is yours
turn on to either side.
There are good and evil
for the chosen better you
see what’s pops up?
Meet the sun rises high
in the silhouette of a great wall!
Philosophers and sages too
Enjoy the focused powers
And the mystic natural beauty
Of the early morning hours

I greet the sunrise with a smile
Each day this precious wonder
Displays for all, both small and great
For those who rise from slumber

The quiet of the peaceful morn
Engages all my senses
Provides me light and clarity
To cut through life’s pretenses

The morning hours bring inner joy
Rhythm matching Mother earth
True wealth imbues into my flesh
When I witness each day’s birth
This is Prosperity Poem 49 at ProsperityPoems.com and you can see it displayed on a beautiful background here (copy and paste the link). http://prosperitypoems.com/delivery49MorningHours.html. You can sign up for free weekly delivery of poems at Prosperity Poems (.com)

I've always loved being up in the morning hours. The calm and focus and perspective allow me to enjoy more of the day. I also appreciate the connection with nature by watching the sky slowly lighten into a beautiful sunrise.

Sages, saints, and philosophers the world over have praised the benefits of the morning hours. Read the poem below and gain the benefits of matching the rhythm of earth and sun.

Look me up on Patreon and help spread these messages worldwide!

Christopher
Craig Dee Nov 2019
Born Clarendon Square, 1875

11th year, father and hero dies

Mother's moniker, The Great Beast

Carries proud 'til rest in peace



Scripture's words so clearly lies

One off the wrist and women's thighs

Such morals never suit The Beast

On original sin, so does he feast



Red light women, gonorrhoea

Inhale and hold, but have no fear

Bow to none beneath the sky

Affliction, addiction, getting high



Poetry, prose, philosophy, chess

Science, literature, quite the quest

Majestic Monch without a guide

Dispel the darkness deep inside?



A new Sunrise, The Golden Dawn

To most, The Beast is but a thorn

From all the hate, he does defend

"I shall endure until to the end"



A crashing bore, The Golden Dawn

Such petty games, reject them all

Traverse the world and left in awe

In India, sombre spirits soar



The Savage Mountain scrapes the sky

Never scaled yet still must try

Brash bravery, they do not lack

No savage spoils, men beaten back



Convenience ties Beast and Rose

Affection hankers hard to show

Rosa Mundi and Love Songs

One lake of molten joy, one pond



In Egypt, Prince invokes the Gods

Great Horus comes, the Equinox

Aiwass speaks, so Beast does score

A new Aeon, Book Of The Law



On Nepal's peak, his peers they die

Attempt descent beneath dark skies

For such a loss bears all the blame

To climbing clique, ne'er the same



With Godhead now is unionised

As hashish opens the Third Eye

Meagre means and thus provides

Tankerville's peace is bonafide



A∴ A∴ heart, see how it glows

Tree Of Life they seek to grow

A flower's bloom begins to fade

Whilst sadly withers in the shade



The Beast now pens The Book Of Lies

His Scarlet Woman within resides

And for *** Magic does devise

"Contra Naturam", come inside



World War One, it rakes the Earth

While Wilhelm is as Jesus birth

Did The Beast truly betray

A country that had held his sway?



Thelema Abbey, hear its call

Lewd libertine within these walls

Loveday discovers only death

Benito brings its final breath



To man, a prophet is declared

Thelema's message, for to spread

Magnum opus, now complete

Of France, fair punishment is mete?



High on Hell's Mouth, his heart it breaks

But both black ink and leap are fake

War once again now rakes the Earth

Will Blackshirts bond Thelema's church?



War service scorned by N.I.D.

The face behind the Victory V?

Olla: Sixty Years of Song

A final book, the last swan song



Hasting's last battle is now lost

The Great Beast feels the final frost

"A Black Mass", many tabloids cry

Cold ashes now in Hampton lie



Amoral man, your heart did sing

Black ballads of the blackest dreams

Listen and there's still the screams

Of Thelema's ghosts, it seems





Copyright © Craig Detheridge.

2015 - 2017.
This piece is based on the life of the infamous Aleister Crowley.
Born to a Christian family in 1875, he rejected their teachings and those of the bible, becoming a ceremonial magician and founder of The Church Of Thelema. Crowley was a prolific writer on many subjects such as philosophy, politics, and culture as well as Thelema. He was also a published poet and playwright and was an accomplished mountaineer.

Crowley was once described by tabloids of his time as "The Wickedest Man In The World".

It took me several weeks to complete this piece due to the research I carried out on Crowley. There are lines within the piece of which the meaning is not immediately obvious.
This piece has previously featured elsewhere on the net including my own site at https://originaldarkpoetry.wordpress.com/the-great-beast/
The way some mates
Most times use their brain
Helps to ease my pain
Whenever I feel deranged

Their poetical way
Could be describe as sane

People like B_ViRGE
Who keeps me inspired
Every time I feel mentally tired

Or great minds like Muhsin
And the quote-master HMC
And my StreetPoetry cliques
Who doesn't seem
To need a war machine
To rescue or ****

No protective barbed-wire
Or an heavy gunfire
To fight an empire

Cos' their style of war;
Is lyrically pure
Their battling style;
Is well designed;
In poetic lines

Their artistic rhyme;
Could help invert;
The hate-filled mind;
To the rightful path;
Of love and light

And touch the lives
Of those whose life
Are filled with strife

To help ordain
The lost and strayed;
To find their way;
To the rightful place;
they're destined to reign

Their thoughts are gold
The type not-sold

Their words could bring joy
And sometimes a sword
To conquer war
Or break the jaw
Of those whose talk
Are filled with bluff

They're masters of words
Whose art will ever soar
Till forever exhaust
I see you at the moon
when it is complete and renew

I see your smile at blossom
brings at spring at happy mood

I could hear your laughter at the water droplets
making the world had life present

spreading its wings
covering the love to stand

your smart face makes me great brilliance
love is the greatest and cleanest message all over the world
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