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)

Any time I think of it,
almost every day, I think of it.

I am like you, I do not like you.
I think you think I do not exist.

I do.
So do you, and that is the only why.
I think you, so I am, and this is it.

This is it. The state of being left be
the realm of all possibility, where
no impossible thing is posed to ****
all our hopes with common fear of death.

When you hit, be ready for a quick push
What you throw it up, it falls down on you,
It's basic karma, one-oh-one
Be nice, be good, will bring a good turn
it all comes down to your intent in the end.

i asked her to dance.

"so,"  she smiles, "dance with me,

sometimes
I feel like
I'm almost gone

and i want you
to hold me,
she says,
hold me tighter

I want you to feel
my heart beating
and tell me
you'll never
let me go.

will you think of me?"
she asks, smiles,
always?"


rain is the night's
beating heart
icy heart,
wind and rain
and a memory
birds are winging west

tired and broken
the ribbon in her hair
footsteps echo
going down the hall

and i could tell by
her smile
she's not coming back

fumbling
shards of broken heart
fall through cupped fingers    

here comes the night.

~
the peculiar sound of morning
during the long, boarded-up winter,
resonating through a cistern
set apart by thin waves
of decaying reservoir

a hint of canticle
in the unfounded wind,
impossible to ignore,
a series of collapsing oppositions
like interior and exterior,
self and other, the momentum
conveys the sublimity of being,
immersed in an unfathomable vastness,
of being part of an indivisible whole

a repeated glitch in the system,
our forever changing
constellation of feelings
and backward configurations,
slipping into a stream,
where the water precedes us,
and it will outlast us

we don't so much carry life
as allow ourselves to be carried
along by it, swept up in its current
for a little while
~