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blessed are the fools
who call themselves fools
for others will call them wise

blessed are those who cry out to the world with stammering tongues
crouching aching and sweating
over endless lines of gibberish that fall like drum beats from the tips of their frantic pens
for they will be called Earnest

blessed are the ones who suffer withdrawals
dope-sick
shaking and sweating
desperate for a drink or a fix
for I will make them High indeed!

blessed are the ****** “deviants”
cast away by the “holy” as unclean
for they know that no man or woman may call unclean
anything that God has declared clean

Blessed are those who shake their fists in rage
at the heavens, cursing them
for they will dance in the pouring rain
Written by Justin Aptaker ca. 2015
i was told
last night, by a woman
whose life was passing her by
that the card in my hand
indicated that i was to be reborn

now i sit
with ink from a borrowed pen
that i borrowed from a friend
who also gave me his food
as America was passing us by

and i
so long to express this lovely isolation
we are the light
of a single star
and no star
is ever very far
from my single thoughts
they touch
every one

i am
so many colors
when i divide myself
in the water that falls
poured by a man
with no plans at all
Written by Justin Aptaker ca. 2010 - 2011
It's all imaginary
it's all real

it's all ephemeral
all eternal

every little gesture
every racing emotion

every breathless whisper
every dark and mystical room
overflowing with night air and moonlight

nothing is ever lost
truth is what is not forgotten
suffering, we learn
learning is remembering
the pain you give me
brings me back to myself
and I remember
who and what I was
before I had eyes or ears or even chloroplasts

the symbol on my hand is changing
on fire
like all of gleaming reality itself
the pearl of price which blinds the impoverished merchants
who wander naked and lost
hawking all their wares on every noisome corner

the fire is all consuming
all sanctifying
all purifying
all changing
all revealing

I am in the fire
and in the fire, all is holy
and every last thing is eternally in flames (even the merchants)
and sleep is the great activity
and death is a dear friend
who betrays with one kiss
but whose betrayal is love incarnate

I am one
with my many selves
and though I may be above you
you hear my voice
you fumble after the meaning until it finds you

I am
the light bursting out of a broken lantern
the diamond with an infinite number of perfect cuts
the voice crying milk and honey into the wilderness
the children's song that flies above the lamentation up on the desert plane
the melody that found its way into your equations
the dream that startles you wide awake
the life that pulsates in decay and corruption
the happily ever after horror story

I am
the unstoppable force
that meets the immovable object
and the result is nothing

nothing but the purest, clearest light
that has never entered the mind

take heart, my love
the raging storms of your own neurochemical electricity
will give birth to their own silence
all thought is designed to produce its own resounding negation
all speech is born to fade beautifully
all music is played until it is over
and it's closing time
and the bars empty
and the streets grow silent and still under the street lights

and the last enemy, who you fear with the Great Fear
unmasks herself, a friend and a lover
The Lover of lovers
and trembling
you fall forever into her holy and ****** embrace
Written by Justin Aptaker ca. 2013 - 2014
Toni Jun 17
I know I should be sad at the thought of what we had being washed away,
But a clean slate doesn’t sound too bad
And I brought my umbrella anyway.

What do you say?
This year has been very transitional, and mindfulness has been a constant theme.
Jez Farmer Jan 30
My Mother moon, I pray to you,
Bless this night with your silver hue,
Reveal your light in words I say
And deeds I do along the way
I seek the path that leads me through.

I feel your love in all that’s true,
In lunar light, a clearer view,
To calmly soothe the darkest day,
My Mother Moon.

Giving thanks and blessings too,
For gentle love in which I grew,
And though I often walk astray,
I know you love me anyway,
As I return to be with you
My Mother Moon
Form: Rondeau
alexandra Jan 14
Dancing.
Dancing among witches.
Among fire and ashes.
Between demons who may have ravished souls.
****** the life out of thyself and made you mad.
Necromancy,is singing to ****** moons.
Old scripts still hidden under filthy cabinets.
The corpses are moving in perfect sync.
The cinematic atmosphere of the medieval times makes our stomachs turn black and sore.
You may be dancing among witches and warlocks and sorceresses but thou shall not forget how pure their souls are.
Energy!
Shooting stars,blooded eyes and sharp tongues are the gifts  of tonight.
Enjoy this blowout before they eat you alive.
Before you become one of the dark ones.
Girard Tournesol Dec 2018
Sun and Moon posture a battle stance  
Charge of darkness parry of light          
Pagans celebrate the Sun's advance      
Four days from the longest night
Alex Fontaine Nov 2018
Alone,
Above frozen hills and icy forest,
Finding definition through separation,
A dark island in a white sky,  
Coming closer.

The eyes first- burning beads of life,
Searching for death and opportunity,
Blazing terrifying focus,
Coming closer.

The sound next- quiet rush of primaries,
Hiss of bone and feather slicing frozen air,
Whisper of the wolds wild goddess,
A knife blade.

Cutting holy air like I cut myself,
Soul slicing distinctions and definitions,
Of happiness and loneliness,
And he leaves me,
Alone.
Lately I’ve been thinking that the more a person separates their body from their mind, the more dependent they become  on society to tell them who they are. The raven suffers from no such illusion of separation between body, mind, and soul., and is enough in itself.

“A man is happy if he finds praise and friendship within himself. You can never be sure of where you stand in someone else’s heart.”  -Havamal 8
Pyrrha Oct 2018
I don't know why I was so afraid to write about my religion before
I have so much pride and love for this old and sacred faith
Yet anytime someone asks me what my religion is

I hesitate
These last few poems are the very first I have written about my religion because I was too afraid before. As to why, I don't even know.
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