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md-writer Apr 2019
"If words strung together
across these few lines,
can break through the barrier
of your mind and mine,
then anything,
                     yes, anything
                       can happen with time."

So said the sage, as he
pondered this world.
The nature, effects, and
natural properties,
of this thing and that thing,
and all human faculties.

So learned was he
                               (or so it was said)
that even the ravens
began pecking his head,
for the silver and gleaming
that was locked up and
...dead.

For never, not once,
had he lifted a finger,
to live out the practical
side of his thoughts.

Thinking that sits there
and doesn't once move,
will never affect you
or help you improve:

The sage died a poor man,
no sons came to mourn.
For thought he was smart
no fruit had he borne.

Let this sage be a warning
for you and for me,
not to let thinking
be all that we see,
when we search all around us
for things we should be.

There's something in action
that cannot be faked.
And it's also okay
to make honest mistakes.

The point is, we're trying
to live what we preach:
to let our decisions
be the textbook we teach.
April 4
Brynn S Feb 2019
Cycolpitic view
Unedited outlook so bleak
Disabled in ability
Off turns the night
Replace stars with bottle caps
****** glass
Little shells
~Bardic magistry
Woven unto
Sage & Seeress
Whose vision
Penetrates
The Temporal Expanse.

The Crowned of Epistemology
Reigns sovereign
Unfurled upon the Seven Seas,
The Firmaments,
And The Gaian Mother
Aeonic & venerable:

Dedicated to the
Sagacious, sapient, source of sonority;
Mine Matriarch Mavenette
Wielding wisdom
Pristine, amidst
The Chaos of Chthonic,
At times, adjacent,
NetherRealm:

Valhalla of the once Valiant Soul
Twas I
The Wound-Bearer;
Convalescing in Light
Of the Simulacrum of the Sun,
Until
Greater Eden arrives:

Through lore the soul is lifted unto heights once denied;
The onerous edicts of Gravity begotten to be defied.
We peregrinate this plane searching for Lovelit Life;
We depart in ascendency beckoned by the rapture of the Divine.

No soul knows all, yet by lore, we come to rise, rise
In our excellency sired by the Empyrean Sublime.
By the exhalation of our Exodus we ne’er know how to fly,
Yet the Wings of Phantasmagoria are bestowed upon the Wise.

Let reverie propel you eternally into the Baptistery of the Sun,
for His love is infinite, His light needs ne’er be won.
The Ages are ephemeral & the Zeitgeist like Winds of Time:
Yet the Sciential is forever & wisdom transcends time.

Know that there is more than seen with the eyes;
In this boundless cosmos, precepts are meant to be defied:
Make history therefore of thine bygone days,
For the unborn waxeth thine present: a time-transcending sage.

O, She is the Millennial Maven
Transcending Space & Time
Rising through the Exosphere; Excelling Ether
into Mind’s Fire.

O, She is the Sage of Dreamscapes, Summoning
Luminaries unto Gaia:
That the Wisdom of the Ancients
Illuminate Orbis Terrae.

O, the Impossible is Possible,
Through Amazonians such as thee,
Waging Warfare through Wisdom
That her Clansman might live free.

O, Rapture in a Zephyr
(Aromatic & Fragrant Winds)
She harnesses the Tempest of Futility, that
Ineffable splendor is borne in stead.

O, the Tapestry of Eternity unfolds
(Through the hands of thee)
For through thine counsel are souls made stalwart,
In the Visage of Shadows made to see.

O, been hazed, been dazed
Mine entity hath been flayed,
Until incarnadine raiment arrayed
And through Nox & Somnus, mine heartsease is betrayed.

Lo!  Yet as a wraith in pining
For the Land of Living & Immortal Truth,
O, the Priestess of the Sacrality of Sapience
Doth forge a revenant anew.

O, continue upon thine Pilgrimage
For thine spirit, it gleams:
Upon the Feuillemorte Leaves of Autumn
The Sacred Lotus, impregnable, breathes.

The Hiemal Sun glistens brighter
As discernment and time wax Sovereign Reign; knowledge is
The Diadem of The Epistemic Empress:
  The Monarchy of your claim.

May Splendor and Mercy
Be promised unto thee,
May you promenade life’s trek in credence
That the Wings of Manumission make thee truly free.

If by chance you findeth enfettered
Your soul through sentiments strewn
Wonder upon the liberation
You’ve woven into mind’s renewed.

O, the Soul shall reapeth,
That which it sows,
You’ve harvested the Seeds of Liberty,
Let the Diadem of thine Ascendency thus be made to grow.
May the sacraments
She confers,
Alight upon
Her
Own soul,
May She
effloresce
in the Light of The Empyrean One
Excelsior
Forevermore.

~Happy Holidays Beloved Ones.~

"Therefore, become imitators of God, as beloved children"

-Ephesians 5:1
Star BG Dec 2018
I AM...
the one the world has been waiting for.
A sage carrying wisdom so others
find their own portal of light.

I AM...
the you in me, and me in you.
A savant who shares thread of God
inside creative vortex.

I AM...
eternal borrowing human costume to dance.
An avatar traveler, from distant galaxies.
Here to celebrate inside energies of love.
One of three I Am poems.
Inspired byRJ and Lori Jones McCaffery  Thanks
Annie Mar 2019
This is, where the dragons went
Not waiting, not dead
This is, where the dragons went
Dormant they lay instead
Packed tight in a place
With scaling filled space
And nevermore
They have been seen

This is, where the dragons rest
Not reality, not dream
This is, where the dragons rest
In occult shimmer gleam
As magic did fade
They left nothing but sage
And by degrees
They were forget

This is, where the dragons wake
Not brutal, not calm
This is, where the dragons wake
Summoned to our realm
Recalled to a spot
They slowly forgot
And conquering
They wander back
To Terry Pratchetts 'Guards! Guards!'
Let me ask you a few dangerous questions.
1. when did wisdom magically become a weapon?
2. Can you turn the other cheek?
3. Can you turn lead into gold?
Because I can't.

See some of us reside in an unlivable temple
scraping by on ok, hog tied to the flawed words "I'm fine" and find comfort, knowing the only way to truly find contentment is to find a tribe of people willing to be unicorns and butterflies with you.

See we kid ourselves with the belief "they will save me", But we don't live in a house with a glass ceiling so we can see God or a sky that is easily taking apart.

sometimes I wonder, did I wake up today to another state of sleep ain't that easier to swallow than reality, ain't the best fight with yourself.
There I go again chewing on doubt as if it were gum.
Thinking of my mind as part incredible part trash and mostly dead

See what I meant to say is your mind is not something you can just escape from it is something you survive.
So I will continue to wear the sun like the air wears sage in the winter,
because after all ain't the best scent in a dream.
Rose Amberlyn Sep 2018
Simple as sage
burning and bright
ashen and hazy
lights the dark
night.

color me cryptic
call it unsolved
thick rolling fog
that will not
dissolve.

Flee, dark spirits
ghoulish and gall
vanish at once
and heed our
call.
Pagan Paul Aug 2018
.
Its 2 am and I am so wired.
Why can't I just be normally tired?
As others enjoy some restful sleep,
I am in a place far more deep.....

And the abyss calls so inviting,
          a leap into the unknown and beyond.
With clarity I jump out and fly,
          an excuse for reality to quietly abscond.

Psychedelic nausea as the dimensions twist,
forcing me to a place where I do not exist,
a land in which I may be killed or kissed,
but certain my presence would not be missed.

The feelers take a hold of me,
     whispering secrets of antiquity,
revealing images of aeons gone,
     in spoken word, rhyme and song.
I have the histories of many worlds
     all in my mind strung up like pearls.
A line of lanterns alight once more,
     open and willing for me to explore.
And my pale blue eyes no longer see
     the images created by any reality.

It is secret knowledge of ancient times,
I receive in the script of cryptic rhymes.


© Pagan Paul (09/08/18)
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