Carl Jung in his tower
conversing with Dragon
and the Moon Goddess
☆
" There are two trees
   that are one
   and they are the
   masculine
   and the feminine .
   They are
   creating a
   new dimension
   using alchemy ,
   Temperance and
   emotion . "
☆
Two pillars bring forth
the unexpected .
A new seeding of cycles
and transformation .
☆
There will be two eclipse ,
first one solar , and next
lunar .
Then the warrior sweeps
all before him .
and the Goddess moves
her hand
across the Night .

My grandmothers are
standing there ,
mother , maiden , crone .
Wisdom , transformation
and they are guardians
of the doorway .
☆
Black Crow waits patiently
outside .
New Moon in
Scorpio ,
the blank rune , Judgement ,
spirits of the earth and
material existence .
☆
Destiny is power and using
Chaos ,
like the three fates ,
or cutting a thread ,
only realising it was always
this way .
☆
My grandmothers are
standing there .

The goddess looks breathtaking
In her red saree, an emblem of marriage.
Her skin is soft to touch,
Yet she carries a heavy sword in her hands.
The goddess looks serene and calm,
Only that she is about to **** the darkness of demons who are awaiting their freedom.
The goddess wears Kohl in her eyes,
Only to smudge it with her tears.
As she wins the battles plunging the heart out of evil.
The goddess is a mother, she wears red bangles, a colour for both womanhood and rage,
Intertwined and interconnected since the beginning of time.
The Goddess has given birth to her children
with great pains and no agony can beat her strength.
As Devi would not hesitate to become a bloodthirsty Kali
To protect her children.
Divine femininity I bow to you.
Men can only know the power of violence,
But Devi knows the power of love,
How in times of war, it can be our biggest weapon.
Fueled by the energy to **** not out of hatred or Revenge,
But love that led a Mother to pick up arms
So she could protect us all
from the evil that harbours within.
Devi is divine feminine and I bow to her.
She has been created from the strength of all mothers and sisters and daughters.
She tells us the ancient tale of
how women always have had the hidden strength
To leave trails of destruction, only when forced.
Devi does not bleed every month only to be scared of the blood of
evil rakshasas on her hand.
The goddess will happily drink it
And decorate her hands with the demon's blood,
Spreading it on her fingers like red henna.
Devi looks focused, almost peaceful as she kills Mahishasur.
She doesn't want the glory of power.
Her only truth is love.
Even in the heat of battle, Devi's beauty shines through.
Divine Feminine, I bow to you.

Life’s a flight in the Night -
once whence,
then thence
- a perpetual fight…

Frigid is the Night.
Blowing winds bellow,
Birds they bring down like an arrow.
Though their fate be full of contempt,
flight the Birds still attempt.
Frightening, the sight
Frigid, the Night

One winter day,
a Fog of Light was blown so high, it lit up the Sky.
Dusk pierced by Dawn,
it was the End of All,
the Avians‘ downfall.
Frightening, the Night
Frigid, this sight

Though infinite in power, the fog made Them cower.
Into the Ground they dove,
yet for the Sky still strove,
Their stars now but
a dream within
a dream
.

Though,
one summer day,
Night broke through the dark
- and revealed the stars high above.

…in their seat shrouded in Night, They shine ever bright.

She is heralded by
the barking of dogs ,
the triple moon goddess
Hecate , Diana or Lucina .
☆
She wanders the Night ,
the crossroads
three ,
resplendent in moonlight ,
she is keeper of the keys .
☆
In time of Dark Moon ,
through secret doorway ,
protected by
wolves ,
she walks with the dead ,
☆
She wanders the Night .

Blessed by Aphrodite
Her hair as long and silky as fjord
Her eyes direct gateways into her beautiful and complex mind
Her smile untainted by the hate this painful world unleashes onto us all

Blessed by Aphrodite
Her body curves like the seven sister hills
Her Skin kissed personally by the sun
She is never cold it could be the coldest day of the year but when we touch it as I have ran into burning building

Blessed by Aphrodite
Her mind is puzzle I wish to solve she is loved by everyone around she lacks enemy’s and have friends in abundance
She is perfect in every possible way
No wonder I love her

inspired by Enid Dame and her poem Lilith

i walk the streets that you used to walk when you were young.
they’re still filled with the ear-splitting traffic of streetcars and taxis,
and the heavy footstep of man
as he trudges along in the gray sludge of old February ice.

i spy on him sometimes, mama.
i watch him slouch against the ice fire breath of the winds
huffing down his neck.
i peek around the lamp-post and watch him shuffle against the dreary gale
that blows him backwards for every step he takes,
just like how he was blown from Eden.
i saw him mama.
the man who threw you out.
the man who abandoned you.
i watch him walk every day,
he seems lost.

it’s cold here mama.
this place is nothing like the paradise you described to me.
you told me that you lived in heaven
and that you were loved,
just as much as you said you loved me.

oh mama, why did we come here?
it rains all the time.
i cried so much in the
apartment you managed to find
on the corner between that deli shop
and the pharmacy owned by a
man who never stopped smoking.
you held me close and said,
“shh baby, it’s alright.
we’ll get through this together.”

the day you died,
i cried like I did when I was in that apartment,
only this time,
there was no one to hold me close
and whisper in my ear.
mama, Lilith,
you’re gone.
history has never remembered you.
you’ve been erased
by the broad sweep of mankind’s hate.
they don’t want to remember you.
but I do,

i do.

i whisper your name to the trees on fifth street
and look at the stars on faded concrete steps at night,
trying to find you among the
constellations
of the history you should have been
a part of.

dear eurydice,
what did it feel like to die twice?
did it hurt more the first time,
weaned onto the sticky honey of love,
only to drown in the sugar as it turned to poison?
or did it hurt more the second,
when you were already bled dry,
to once more hear the siren’s song of your beloved,
only to be gutted by his greed?
did it feel more like a stab and a twist,
or was it more of a thud, then emptiness?
did you die a third time,
when you realized your beloved had run out of chances,
and that you had forever sunk?

///

eurydice, i heard a little rumor
that orpheus used to sing to you under the stars.
did his songs paint you a perfect little world
"for your eyes only" he would say
the way that my love did for me?
one that locked away all your fears,
washing across your vision
until it was tinted over with rosemary?
tell me eurydice,
did you dream of orpheus’ song
like i dreamed of my supposed savior,
humming sweet promises
that couldn’t be kept?

///

did you know, eurydice,
the first time i drowned,
i too had been the victim of a viper?
its venom had blinded me first,
it cursed me with sight;
i saw the world unraveled,
bared in all its debauchery
as savagery unsheathed silence,
nailing women to the cross,
and children to their graves;
an utter panem et circenses
while society watched them bleed.

did you know too,
i was smothered in honey,
just like you?
i tasted the sugared ashes
of the skies unfolding,
as stars turned to bombs in the air,
one little boy crying,
and one fat man dying;
society had found its penance
a faux but effortless salvation.

i like to think it was a blessing:
a little gift, the anesthetization that followed,
how the viper had wrangled out my lungs,
emptying me before i could breathe again,
only to find toxins rather than faith pouring in.
i can’t help but wonder, eurydice,
why were you given your lungs back,
if only temporarily?
did it feel good to have that final breath,
a final glimpse of your favorite delusion,
even if you had already fallen?

///

they say that everyone is born twice:
once on the day their umbilical is untangled and cut,
and once on the day they untangle their own mess;
but what happens when you die a third, a fourth,
and a fifth time before you are born again?
i ask this to you eurydice,
because it seems, like you,
i am already dead.