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Jordan Gee Feb 9
I miss my old hair clippers
I had them since before I got sober.
at the rehab near Philly, I would trade rollies for head shaves
until I learned that I could shave my own head without a mirror.
that was ok with me,
I saved on tobacco but I still had my cup and bowl out.
like an anchorite begging for alms by the road side.
some 3000 shaves of the head later and I don’t need a mirror
for much anymore.
I set the old clippers aside and I don't know where they went to.

When I wake up the sun is going down.
I do my shopping beneath the cold chalice of the moonlight,
cold glistening, somehow still reflecting of the Sun
even though
I said goodbye from
my window to the early evening dawn
9 hours before the burning
of the midnight oil.
I chant and ring my bells
so I don’t drift back to sleep.
but I can still smell sulfur so I
Aum and pray and ring the bells a little louder.

I found God on the carpet once.
It only took me 14 hours to pick through
every crystalline crumb that glistened in the kitchen light.
the next morning I had a half soup spoon full of the Almighty
but the hook and the plunger swallowed Him whole
and with haste turned me back to dust.

sometimes I’ll make a to-do list
with every strike of the pen another performance for
the bushels and the bones,
I like grocery shopping at night.
normally there are only a few souls and
old drifters wandering about and
they usually keep their eyes pointed down.
sometimes I practice small talk
with the clerk,
endeavoring to exchange appropriate
amounts of eye contact throughout.
personalities and performances and
I am so tired of caring.

when I’m waking up the sun is going down
but monica gave me a hand full of vitamin D and
a fire in the hearth and
sometimes the world
Is like a seven pointed centrifuge.
the heavy particles are all hitting the
chalice walls and I’m spinning so fast
all I can do is look up and breathe.

The swallows are singing swooping for the
Black Madonna and the Popes of the white smoke.  

God jumps from the sky to the spoon to the corkscrew
and L/L research put up a new tweet:
more from Hatonn about the bitter wine, and
this being quite a dense illusion for the thickness of the veiling,
and the chakras being tuned like strings on a harp
to be plucked by the Hands of the Creator.

This isn’t the density of knowing
as faith is the evidence for things unseen.
I’m still half blind but I can hear them chanting and
I’m just this side of single pointed thought but
facebook keeps breaking my ****** attention.
so I stand here
awoken to  the sun going down over the highway
and the snakes winding up my spine
and a mouth full of Vitamin D.
kundalini rising
Laokos Oct 2019
ra
fire in the nighthouse
a lemon in the
fridge

you stand among the
bloodshed , legs in
the forest -
why haven't you
left yet ?

there is no council
to seek , no wise
matriarch , nor a hermit
living deeply - there never
was , it's just you
brother , just you sister

you must find your
own way through

you are lost among
all these copies -
people living their lives
as other people

people following people
following people long dead

what momentum stalls
your true spirit from
moving here ?  what limits
bare their teeth as you approach ?

ra ! ,
you are fury and
wrath and recompense

you are cool green
intellect piercing through
the light of the
stars

you are deeper hues
hidden behind blindness

you are death
reaping life and you
are here now ,
ra !
MJL Mar 2019
Dawn casts her long line for spring
Days linger to catch the angel irises bloom
Enveloped by early chirping chitter-chatter
Lightly crusted sleep argues for lids to remain closed
Black perking wake-me oil makes a strong cups case for compromise
A nudge to join the living
- On negotiated terms -
Somewhere between another dream and lavender bubbles
The contract will begin
Foggy feet shuffle onto the wheel
Spying steps creak tattle-tale floorboards alerting all on the way
Pleading thoughtfulness
You beg for silence as the Ra room comes into view
Brightly checkered yellow-brown mustard window patterns
Cut diagonal boxes across maple hardwood
Stained glass dots of emerald, violet, and red raspberry
Dance on lemon washed walls as they turn and wink for a smile
Your morning chair sets at the edge of the warming sun pond inviting you
Join them
You listen to the ripples of space
Your cushioned dock perfectly positioned for a loving embrace
You sit
And slowly dip legs into the glowing pool
Drenched limbs cocoon in the heavy webbing of golden rays
Bathing
The chickadees celebration is known
Immersed
Lids succumb to the orange haze
The Girl from Ipanema sings
Young and lovely
You feel wonderful
No risk of drowning here...
Only in happiness
One radiating breath
Before the Samba plays again


© 2019 MJL
Sunrise. Before the day begins. Time in the window. Like a cat.
Nikos Kyriazis Feb 2019
Dear setting Sun
before you vanish
from today's glance
Would you mind
absorbing me and
my city utterly?
Never to be found
in the history's skin
Grab us from our
mind's eye and
lead us to unseen
adventures

Whether you go
into evil's virtues
or good's desolation
We shall eagerly follow

Hide us inside Ra's chariot
to be part of his perpetual task
To see with our very eyes
Seth's wrath failing once more

We are eagerly following you
Thera Lance Oct 2018
The serpent represents the form of evil,
Some say, at least, during certain times.

He says it doesn’t.
Apophis,
Destroyer, World-eater,
Embodiment of the end,
Claims it never did.

Imagine, a creature of chaos,
From a time where moments were indivisible.
There are no seconds or minutes, no beginnings nor ends,
Only an eternity within itself.
Is it any wonder that it took the form of a snake,
The one creature that can devour its own tail
And pretend to last forever.

Envision the beginning, that fleeting second of novelty,
A swirling, chaotic mass of all that could be,
Being pulled apart into bright stars
That burned imprints onto the serpent’s eyes.
Now witness the first things that aren’t you
Blasting themselves apart, their remains flung far and wide.

Our sun, our Ra, isn’t the first he’s seen,
But it will be the one he devours,
Holds in his mouth so that its yellow brilliance
Never bubbles to bloated red
And swallows up that sweet blue
That hides within its rays.

Our race, and our ancestors
Who like him swirled out of the chaotic sea,
Are the first to watch the stars and see
The way nothing lasts forever.
Why wouldn’t he want to hold us in his belly?
We could exist forever, never wither, never rip apart,
Never be alone in eternity.
For those unfamiliar with Egyptian mythology, Apophis was a snake god of primordial chaos who sought to devour and destroy humanity, the world, and the sun god known as Ra. This poem is both an exploration of the possible reasons behind his appetite and goals and a reason to combine the scientific beginnings and history of the universe with my favorite mythology.
KB Jun 2018
Aches. Pains.
When does it stop?
From one year old,
all I endure was aches and pain.
Stiff. Crack. Pop. Joint.
The words to my disease.  
Rheumatoid. Arthritis.

From a child,
all I was told to take these pills to help the pain.
The pills that were suppose to be magical as I was told as a child.
Magical pills to take the ease of the aches and pain.

Time has pass, as I am older than now and still dealing with the aches and pain.
I learned to not let those words define me but reshape me.
Make me whole and accept that I am me.
I am stronger today than I was yesterday.
Yes the pain doesn't stop
But what I can control is my thoughts on my disease.
Stiff. Crack. Pop. Joint.
Those words will follow me to the endless of time
But
It will not control me.
roman a May 2014
Do you smell that?
Drifting into your windows is the perfumed scent of rebels
Dancing in the flames
Open up your nostrils just a bit more
Take it all in
Take back your senses
We've built pyres two hundred feet tall and set them aflame for you to feast your eyes upon
Take back your senses
Your sense of self
Hear the sounds of our rejoicing,our war cries giving way to songs of peace and hopes for the future that we scream into the abyss
The abyss that we shall conquer
Once you take back your senses
Your self
Your beautiful self
Take your future back into your hands
It's time to shape it yourself
Become you
Take back your senses
Your sense of self
And we'll sever the head of the serpent that guards the cages imprisoning our understanding
Come take back your senses,your sense of self
Just outside your door
The invitation is carved in stone
Bring out your dead
BRING OUT YOUR DEAD
BRING OUT YOUR DEAD!!
There's a party going on outside
And everyone's invited
Part 1
#ra
roman a May 2014
Lights
spring forth
break the horizon
fight back the darkness
usher a way home
give me hope

— The End —