#deities
Did I really have any other choice?
The minute
the minute
the moment you came and graced these lands with your presence,
I was already awestruck.
While other’s just bowed to the things you have done for us,
I bowed to your beauty
your essence.
Yet mortal feelings should have never reached you.
You belonged to the stars
I belonged down here.
Yet here you were
with us mortals,
Here you were in robes that hardly touched the mortal plain
And I’d still honor the grounds you walked on.
Here you were
dancing with the gods you made
singing with the mortals of the world you gave.
You kept coming, and going.
And each time you came back,
I must have seemed older over the years.
And yet
My heart still yearned…
And yet…
My heart still yearned.
Your rubellite eyes,
Asked to stay
But no god would listen
For the curse that could incur.
And when your rubellite eyes met my sapphiric ones,
Your name came across my lips,
the name I told myself I’d never call you.
A name I knew that would link you.
Then you looked at me,
And asked me
Could you stay?
Who was I to give you an answer,
Who was I to command your wishes?
And
Apparently
You gave me the answer.
I met you as
A boy who knew nothing
And I see you as
A man who wanted everything.
And as I look at you
Your name came out above a whisper
And You stayed
And You stayed.
And I will never regret the decisions I’ve made.
Jun 3, 2024
Jun 3, 2024 at 11:14 PM UTC
The other day I recognised Anubis
walking down the street smoking cannabis,
soon joined by his good friend Thoth
who was strangely disguised as a moth.
The jackal headed one fell into crisis
and cried out for his mother Isis,
who, puzzled, said she didn't get this
and called for her sister Nepthys.
But this was beyond even her art
so they summoned their cousin Maat,
She said only one could conspire this
blame must lay with the Lord Osiris.
Then up popped the hawkish Horus
to join his voice to the growing chorus,
followed in shadows by his brother Set
who hadn't a clue what was happening yet.
An angry Osiris appears with lips a'froth
denying he transformed Thoth into a moth,
this magic only one deity has mastered
so you can blame that ****** cat Bast..
Pagan Paul (02/10/23)
Oct 16, 2023
Oct 16, 2023 at 10:17 AM UTC
<|>
“***IF we are each created in His image,
how glorious is the diversity of our deities***,
*each of us a tiny drop of paint on a tableau
of a small planet, insignificant but
uniquely beautiful intelligent species of godlike creatures,*
“deities~human”*
<|>
wise enough to know mine philosophical shortcomings,
for they are many,
insufficient wisdom, more than sufficient laziness,
but sometimes even the o b v i o u s
strikes a rhyming chord,
even so, delving into God’s image
is for the foolhardy,
ergo ipso facto,
I am that,
that fool
but the boundaries of common sense poetry,
offer healthy delimitations,
and as rhe day wanes, eyes go blurry,
I am content to laurels~rest:
I do not count the times,
I’ve called out my beseeching deities,
I do not count the numbers of names,
we have designated and available for them,
or how many I’ve employed, and which replied
or the varied shapes they assumed,
to get my attention,
but this is a poem,
cannot leave you hanging,
if you paid your dues for joining me this far:
the due is due you:
them
(their ONLY pronoun),
keep their answers
short and oft inexplicable,
yet strangely satisfying,
for being a deity
they employ common sense,
and the answers frequently found
on a list of Frequently Answered Questions (FAQ‘s)
the most common response,
“but you already knew that!”
Sep 23, 2023
Sep 23, 2023 at 8:26 AM UTC
There is something in the air
no more ice nor vampire lairs
The sun rules over night
and brings forth all things bright
And the flowers greet him with glee
all shining and rising among the ****
As the maiden smiles to her tummy
her child smiles back in the shape of a bunny
It's the breath of spring,
balance and growth with it brings
So let us blossom my dear
make our intention and power clear
Mar 20, 2021
Mar 20, 2021 at 6:10 AM UTC
Feeling the gravitational pull of the forces surrounding my essence.
My deities answered my calling to ascend, to become transformed, and accepted my offering! Provided nourishment in blessings, from other dimensions!
Received from my moment of profound meditation.
Deep mysteries of the unknown sleeping in space, aligns truth within the constellations revealing reminders this is nothing more than a illusion.
Deceived by moral corruption in mystifying concepts.
Is fiction reality? What is
considered intangible, and understandable?
When will it all make sense?
We spiral in the formation of our galaxy.
In which expectations are countless, but are not in field of our control.
As we wait for time to bring us home
Jan 27, 2021
Jan 27, 2021 at 6:28 PM UTC
As children
We who wore tights to school
were taught
to wok in high heels
with a book on our heads
to never wear mascara
on our bottom lashes
red lipstick = harlot
red nails = *****
wearing jewelry = sinful
to be proper
to mind our manners
the three monkeys mantra
So we still
Go downtown in our good clothes
Wearing high heels carrying a matching bag
We have expensive taste
Reputations to uphold
fast cars
+
faster boys
=
red lipstick
red nails
bodies bejeweled
We learned
All of that Indoctrination
was nonsense
Oh! The high heels of heartache!
How those cruel shoes constrained us
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 9:30 AM UTC
Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva -
sit eternally on lotuses.
Shiva loves to destroy the universe.
He has as many arms as it takes.
Plus one, to hold a mirror.
Brahma rebuilds it all as needed.
He has four heads and four arms.
That seems about right.
Sitting between Big Bang and Big Finish
is blue Vishnu,
who symbolizes energy.
Iris and Murray Klughart of Yonkers
don't symbolize anything.
Neither do their children.
All their marriage the Klugharts have saved
for a trip to the Taj Mahal.
Each one secretly fears
the other will be disappointed.
They pray their kids will have more.
Iris lights up the place when anyone calls.
Murray lights up a dreadful cigar,
sits back like a living room ornithologist,
and fully hears her song.
The creature is in full cackle.
He'll tell her about his bad MRI -
tomorrow.
They are no one,
and their aching backs
prop up every axis,
atom,
and out-of-work deity.
Iris cries when she reads Emily Dickinson.
Iris laughs in her sleep.
Iris.
The Klugharts loved the Taj so much,
Shiva dropped his mirror.
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 12:56 PM UTC
doll face
lavender thighs
rose gold heartbeat
alternate endings tracing cheekbones
like broken glass
your sawdust jawline
summertime soiree
knee-buckling faith
a mouthful of metaphors
forevers
daisy chained couplets
some purple skylines
feathers
cotton
hushed loving between
celestial bodies
grapefruit and coconut sugar
closing time
deities not quite worshiped
revered
hightop/high heel
purple jolly rancher
dress and tie
fingertips
hips swaying from side to side
windchimes
music
moments
love or truth
now or never
healing
breathless
full of life
merry-go-round mindset
happy dizzy
revolve around the sun
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 12:51 PM UTC
Lonesome in the moonlight
thinking only of your kisses
missing the levity, missing the pivotal moment
where I open eyes to two who stare in mine
and return to Earth as ash as we both burn up
as we turn to stars mimicking, a little bit,
the husks of human flesh we were
And I'm surrounded, and I drown in
the affectations of a denomination out of touch or too in tune
Pull me ever down
Under the riptide
To be so suffocated
Between the dead--
not deities.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 12:39 AM UTC
Before you came of age
Rotten pallid arm wings
All of your green monster soup breath
You were quiet. The little arachnid.
Surprised to have been the queen
In the windowless room.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:54 AM UTC
she colored space-time
into her hair
using only a paintbrush and patience
strand by strand she formed it:
the glistening planets and stars that are
of her own mind
neurons shooting like rockets
envisioning the galaxies that, built from her hands,
exploded from nothing into everything,
tangible but free, whispering red gold light
she wrote out the oceans
using her hands
lakes rivers and streams, and the lands along the edges
word by word she poured it:
the life of each puddle turned into clay creatures
that breathed reality
existing like trees on the vast new savannas
living freedom that, carved from her fingertips,
developed happiness and sorrow,
careful but real, eating their new knowledge
she gave birth to gods
from her parted lips
speaking out deities and auras
making the small assertion:
that life came from her and all things by her
but the life she loves had long since forgotten
the green of her eyes
and the red rock of her skin,
her writings and whispers
floating throughout the summer smog
so she roared in the thunder and the rushing waves
for her children and worlds to listen
but they could no longer hear, and she was left
lost and awaiting, wrapped
in her own space-time hair
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC