"anointing" poems
As night hath stars, more rare than ships
In ocean, faint from pole to pole,
So all the wonder of her lips
Hints her innavigable soul.
Such lights she gives as guide my bark;
But I am swallowed in the swell
Of her heart's ocean, sagely dark,
That holds my heaven and holds my hell.
In her I live, a mote minute
Dancing a moment in the sun:
In her I die, a sterile shoot
Of nightshade in oblivion.
In her my elf dissolves, a grain
Of salt cast careless in the sea;
My passion purifies my pain
To peace past personality.
Love of my life, God grant the years
Confirm the chrism - rose to rood!
Anointing loves, asperging tears
In sanctifying solitude!
Man is so infinitely small
In all these stars, determinate.
Maker and moulder of them all,
Man is so infinitely great!
14.3k
~
a strange place to start
having not truly begun,
already beat down by the
lowdown
own a million rose colored words,
but some assembly required,
that's when the foreknowledge truth~rules
burns brain holes
easy is never
free,
poetry writing is
cussing hard work
~
spring rains cloaking warmth,
summer's stunning sunsets
demand submissive awed silence,
autumnal leave drops anointing
your refreshed humanity,
and yet,
one more time,
it is only within winter's white bitterness
lip tasting,
million tear-shaped snowflaked words,
is the crowning visible
of the head of
a newborn babe poet
~
hard.
Capital Hard.
in the beginning,
there was one,
a first work
and the knowing,
if it wasn't hard,
it could not be
any good,
makes it possible
to ease on
down
this fearful
revelationary road
trip
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 5:15 PM UTC
On your Marc, Get Set, GO!!
3 Marks, in 2 days
A sign...
Obvious in fact.
First there was the Mark of the Cathedral
Perfect in It"s Reverence,
Baptism of Creativity.
Then, there was the Racehorse.
Faster than a speeding Bullet,
able to leap tall buildings with a single ping
And then finally,
the one whose name means Beautiful...
Artist, Creativity, Perfection..
the only one who matters...
Three Marks, one Anointing.
A confirmation of Love
An Ordination of Willingness
God's pen upon the paper.
the true Mark of Humanity
Blessing.
In all circumstances
Blessing.
Peace, Holy Spirit.
And So It Is.
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 2:48 AM UTC
Even in Third Place the gods carry you
Niko and Nike, both Siblings to your Cause
The Festive Cheer, numbing their Silent Boo
And your Best Bronze Offer was never lost
Which you deserve, definite on Boon's End
Such Shout everyone will always Cherish
Goodbye, Riley! Your Dim Plan was all but Bent
The Assassin turned on you and Perish
Still, Anointing Tears on the Bleacher's Side,
Was but Artificial in its Console
You made a Plan to Upgrade the next time
And Fight till Morning until the next Goal.
Meanwhilst enjoy, and sip to Iberia's Best
With Everyone on-board; And not one less.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 8:59 PM UTC
A Silence stirs within the people,
As the King anoints his knight.
The man of righteous renewal,
From the very start.
So it began,
His journey across Tamriel.
Searching for a way,
To save his people.
Armor of White,
Spear of the dragon.
He comes to fight,
Those who oppose him.
His only distraction,
A fair maiden.
With lips of ruby,
Hips of curve.
She can ****** anyone,
Then rob their home.
She sneaks within the night.
Only to serve.
Nocturnal the Daedric Goddess of the Dark World.
Evergloom shail it be.
When they cross paths.
Each night they meet...
So goes the Son of Skyrim,
Being tricked.
By the anointing Imperial.
Mother of the Pack.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 9:18 AM UTC
Hello any of Eddie's friends on HP or even you Christians who don't know Eddie from eddiestarrpoetry most know him and his wonderful writings on Jesus Christ .. Eddie has been a friend to all of us, as he's been trying to show you the real way to live, life and love and forgiveness. And show you there is eternal life in Jesus Christ alone!!! A loving merciful Savior... Eddie wanted me to tell everyone why he hasn't been on HP lately. Reason is he got into some type of accident long ago don't know how it happened just know it messed up his brain, causing brain damage. So he's been healed of having his life restored to him praise God!!! Though he still has been getting horrible head pains and it's making him sick and in pain... He's always praying for me and you and those he hasn't met on here to know yehsua ha'mashiach- ( meaning Jesus the Messiah) in Hebrew tongue... Jesus Christ!!! Eddie is truly a man of God and a loving forgiving man... Whether you respect him or dont respect him. Put that away for now and pray for his head is all I ask you that God may heal his headpains sorrows. Lonesomeness and that God made show Eddie gods will for edds life.. I hope others will pray for him and continue to pray for this man. Because he prays for all of you even ones he don't know he prays you come to know the one and only Savior a loving Jesus and forgiving Lord and king of kings... And God's only son who died for me and you... So this is why Eddie's not been on HP lots... Please pray for him if this message touches your heart and you want God to heal Eddie...for all things are for the good to those that love god...and God will do stuff in his time not ours... Humans always want things our way. We seem to forget were suppose to live for God's will and choices not our selfish wills. Hope and pray others may pray for eddiestarr. Thank you and by ending with that wanna write poetic prayer for Eddie not really poem. Lol just quick prayer for you Eddie!!!
Dear God, heavenly father ... I come to you today to ask for your healing and mercy upon my brother Eddie , God I ask you may touch Eddie's head... That you may heal whatever's happening with the pains in his brain and head .. I pray dear God you can heal Eddie from his toes to the top of his head. I pray Lord God for your anointing over Eddie. That your angels may be upon him, as well as your holy spirit may be sent to him in his times or lonesomeness, sorrow, pain physical mental emotional spiritual. God please give Eddie peace in all aspects of his life and I come to you today God. To heal Eddie fully that his life may be abundant and as once was... And God please show Eddie his purpose here on this earth before you take him LORD... Show Eddie you are in control and there's no reason to fear even in sickness. For you are the great healing physician dear God. I beg ask and pray for your loving kindness over Eddie and mercy and grace. And your healing will come whether in Eddie's time or in your own. For me and Eddie know all things work together for good to those that love you dear God. Please guide Eddie in his hard times right now and sickness. I ask and pray and thank you Lord for hearing my prayer ...
In Jesus name I pray
Amen!!!
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 2:14 PM UTC
~for Maya, the Persian Canadian farmer in the dell~
your poetic riddling questions without hesitation re
my claim conceptual
refuting with factoids actuarial experiential derived,
that cows need milkshake making daily by sunrise
nonsense
so you wake me up groggy on a Miami Saturday 6:00am
with a reciprocal poetic to a dashed off to contra my
code of conduct poem-mine;
and all that stumbles through my almost reset rested,
main stem cortex is an a ancient hebrew homily:
on Sabbath Saturday, even the cows sleep late
ok;
just tween us rare passes the day that a glancing phrase doesn’t register a stabbing whine “of me, of mine do sing” and your point counterpoint incision demands inspiration instant re-mission
around 10am when the amiable barn aminals sipping cuppa #3,
and the chicken children want a weekend brunch xtra feeding
are done, in the yard, put out to
pack n' peck n’ play
so that’s an intro to this work
that jumps the line of a
hundreds of other’s poems promised and overdue:
insight inside your crafted wake up slam slap was
pretty **** near the makers mark bourbon of this distillers
bourbon barrels bulbous poem’s bibliothèque that
has an impatient waiting list
of poems waiting anointing
each a personage~poem of that day it was birthed inscribed
this particular one for you,
~
my complexity non-Napoleonic
just humanoid each, here are my leaders from and
into a veining so lovely colored
each poem a waving wheat stalk
before these old tired eyes close to closing hear once more
“of me, of mine do sing”
so I follow all of you by dimming yellow light,
for this is the soil of nutriment rich from where my
words grow taller and the yellow infusion feeds my wheats,
the amber, the red hard and soft, the whites, the durums,
and mon préféré, prairie spring white,
which is my secret nickname for a duality woman,
poet and farmer,
posing riddles
that deserve answers*
maybe
—-
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2503650/little-ole-me-a-riddle-of-sorts/
May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 11:17 AM UTC
"Run your pulse across my tongue
Pour your love into me
I thirst for you"......
Veils of gossamer silk
Spin in shades of night
Submissive acquiescence
Smoulders bare feet ...
Iridescence dances in captivated eyes,
Lips full
Releasing,
Breath
Licking the shimmer-gleam,
Anointing skin
Ravishing enchantment...
He trembles her heat
Scorching flesh wrapped bone;
Joining fantasies played against silky thighs
Arousing,
Capturing her allure;
Seductively
Manipulating the tenderness of her need ...
Night drips beauty from a silvern moon,
Nakedness meets
Open desire
Firm against softness
His lips seeking,
Tasting
Vanilla tears
Melting on his tongue like snowflakes
Touching passion's fire...
Fingertip moments
Pulsing rhythms;
Aching depths craving
Urgency
Sinking into moist folds
Undulating movements
Swollen, locked around a flowing pearl...
Mesmerising connections sparkle,
Thrusts
Gasp breathlessly,
Arching into body quivers;
Nails claw the spine
Symbolic...
She is
Weakness to his will........
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 4:18 PM UTC
Your Messiah is not Christ
my Karma is not your dogma
Their AntiChrist is not the Mahdi
His avatar is not yet manifest
Our Dajjal is not their 12th Imam
Your Brahman is not my Elohim
The Atman is not the God-Man
Your God-Man is Luciferian
Our Lucifer is not their Allah
The Djinn are undocumented
some angels fell
Allah is not Ras Tafari
Their Zion is Babylon
Jerusalem is Egypt or *****
Their Angels are ascended Masters
Our Master is your ascended Savior
My Savior is your accuser
Their God is no Savior
His unction is Satanic
The war is spiritual
The Spirit is not obvious
My anointing is carnal
their anointing is moronic
our doctrine is angelic
Your rejection was predestined
our acceptance is divine
Our depravity is documented,
your sanctity is illusory
their power is diabolic
their light is darkness
Their leader is ungodly
Our God is unseemly
His Truth is offensive
The bitter is not sweet
the sweet is unworldly
the world is not heavenly.
Trinity in seven spirits, yet God is One…
Revel in the uncertainty. Have some holy fun
fitting more angels on the pin-head, dancing
before they fall. Rebellion is always entrancing
until the current postmodern theology
hooks up with psycho-sexual linguistic pathology.
Don’t accept my apology
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 8:57 PM UTC
complexity
is your beauty
simplicity
your mystery
interdependence
sustains you
once upon a time
we dipped bowls
into your waters
and brought up
draughts of life
now
Skipjacks go
fathoms deep
into endless
depletion
charting
entangled
dead zones
broadening
into a sea of
inertness
your delicate
eco-essence tips
toward oblivion
effluvia farmers
layer mechanized
blankets of
nitrates on your
sunset shores
weaving
green tendrils
of algae blooms
strangling the
entanglements
of all links in
your miraculous
food chain
the EPA
proscribes
a Jenny Craig
pollution diet
to halt the
slaughter in
oxygen
challenged
dead zones
where rockfish
are garroted,
oysters get drilled
by screwworms
and azure tinted
soft shell *****
dance soft
shoe taps
lifting a tinny
chorus of sad
Piedmont Blues
the flat-lining
watersheds
voiceless
warnings
tremble
rocking the
purged nests of
screaming ospreys
in vocal protest
of a sinking
Tangier Isle
anointing it’s
tombstones
of unvisited
cemeteries with
multicolored
guano
fitting
alkaline
tributes
to the lost
inhabitants
and forgotten
languages
sinking into the
brine of gray
brackish tides
Delmarva’s fine
intra-continental
balance skewed
by the oozing
industrial swill
of Frank Perdue
chicken farms
ruling the roost of
sanctioned sustainability
tinging clear watersheds
of finger lakes
set in splints to
repair dislocations
and complex
compound fractures
that may never heal
again
Music Selection:
Taj Mahal: Fishin Blues
jbm
Oakland
6/7/12
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 8:36 AM UTC
#A year older, a year wiser
A wisdom always in the making
Nourished by experience
Vitaminized by failures
Strengthened by aspirations
Built on the foundation of hope!
Year after year
Brick after brick
Wiser
Cemented by determination
Watered by dreams
Cracked by blows
Repaired by a mason
Working round the clock
Anointing healing!
Get up man.
*You are a year older
But a year wiser*
And the fruits of this wisdom
Often unseen
Oftener unknown
Ripen inside
And then no more just yours
Scatter in the surround
Beget nurseries of wisdom
Building, vitaminizing, strengthening
Repairing healing
Your foundation
Your hope!#
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 10:39 AM UTC
a e i o u and opposing thumbs
my woman, she's a
snuggler and spooner.
burying herself on my,
no, in my
double barreled chest,
her blonde hair,
my field of gold.^
she landscapes my life,
paralyzing me with the
simplest of gestures.
she sleeps holding my thumbs.
locks me up.
locks me down.
so I cannot transcribe
the lines of poetry mindful,
landlines shut,
land-mines of verse
unexploded,
till these now,
hours later.
a few notes ago,
a few days ago,
heard an octet,
eight voices singing of
five letters, five vowels,
a e i o u.
you can hear what I heard too.
after you listen,
better understand
vowels are the butter of language.
the anointing oil of connectivity.
more than a line of code,
they are the keys to the code,
that make words and life musical.
I suppose we could mange without them if we had to.
spsz v cd mng wthot thm ff v hd t.
but not so well.
I suppose we could manage
without opposing thumbs.
learn to type with my nose,
paint with my toes.
but not so well.
here is how it comes all together.
a e i o u and opposing thumbs,
never give them more than a
never thought, passing over, assumed.
oh yeah, on some tv show,
you can buy a vowel.
these glues are the things that
give me the chance to tell this:
this poem it is a bit about me.
this poem it is a bit about her.
this poem is really about you.
I could live without
a e i o u and opposing thumbs.
but I could not live
without her landscaping my chest.
but
when I share this knowledge
with you friend, it becomes a
verified, realized, acknowledged truth.
So you see this poem is about
a e i o u and opposing thumbs,
but really about you.
In fact, I am thinking,
that if I did not love the title
a e i o u and opposing thumbs
so much,
would entitle it instead,
a wholesome democracy of love.
you, a registered voter,
vote then with both all the
a e i o u and opposing thumbs
at your disposal.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 2:42 AM UTC
The Breakfast Fairies (a humorous treatise)
Summoned for to break the fast
of sleep-and-dreams that can no longer last,
As the clock to noon draws nigh,
I happily paddle off to the cabinet
Where the cereals that I CHOSE,
Since I am now a grownup,
faithfully await, calm and in repose.
The refrigerator, in nearby proximity,
sources a Stony-field yogurt,,
A yogurt that I CHOSE,
light and sweet with processed fruit,
due to the miracle of Aspartame.
Distracted, back to the kitchen for
Some multi-grain slices to hail and toast,
Which I prefer dry (no butter)
and ready for anointing with oils of
Strawberry jelly.
To the table return ready to sound
The horn of plenty,
When I see the ****
Breakfast Fairies have struck yet again!
Cousins first to those that reside in nearby dishwasher*
The nefarious fairies guard my health
tho nobody asked them too!
My Crispix, with its malty sweetness,
And the ***** aftertaste of sprayed-on "enriched vitamins,"
has been smothered neath layers of
Granola, with cranberries and nuts,
Contaminated with a hint of cinnamon.
My processed yogurt,
vanished, without a trace,
replaced by their bacterial cousins from Thrace,
which is in Greece,
who, tho white, taste like plain yogurt sourpusses,
Even when littered with blueberries,
Nothing can replace the taste of my
Artificial Sweetener!
Dry toast has been sheeted and shined neath
A tribute of fattening butter,
rationalized by a commonality,
"Everything is better with butter..."
The last indignity is that my coffee,
Not the light brown I cherish
When kissed by whole milk,
Now muddled and muddied by skim milk, so named,
Cause they skim off all the taste.
Because they are fairies,
With fluttering wings,
Hasty retreat they beat,
But I know where they hide.
The next time it be for the morning meal,
I will eat it in bed,
far from their kitchen hiding places,
And celebrate my heroics with original
Frosted Flakes and milk,
And extra sugar just for spite!
The bedroom fairies, living under the pillow,
Emerge to beg in iambic pentameter,
Won't get nary a bite,
Until they they return the poems they stole
From my midnight dreams.
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 12:08 PM UTC
& i can fix
a million things
[and your heart is one of them]
i can make you tea
make you breakfast
brush your hair
kiss your forehead
& tell you it’s all going to be
o
k
i can wrap my arms and legs around you
and crush you with empathy
let my tears drip down your forehead like anointing oil
or holy water
i can baptize you in a hundred things, i can burn you and
create anew from the ashes in my arms
i can let you fill my bones with your tears
my heart with your heartbreaks
my lungs with your sobs
my insides with your hurt
i can make you a thousand salves
and a hundred tinctures to keep you from hurting
but i can’t fix myself.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 2:53 PM UTC
The mask of vengeance is not to be confused
with the seepage of hurt and confusion.
Something to blame, to get in the way
of a blazing fire providing.
Kindle it with substance and truth,
but instead with damp lies and gritty sand.
An effort of competence in place
of the evading truth that sometimes
the idea of affinity diminishes
in the hole of bewitching fruits.
A spell to take hold of the clean,
turning ***** in morality. Excuses
to remain pure at heart, blame to never
feel the pain of rejection.
Darkness.
Pain.
Loneliness.
Desperation.
Anointing the headless children without
a thought of the purpose. Watering a rootless
tree, attempting to make it grow.
Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 7:39 AM UTC
The First Apostle
Did you know your calling?
When He first met you
Demonized-Prostitute
Transformed by His healing hand
Your love-turned passion
Inseparably bound to his being
Scorned for your lavish yearning
Prophetically anointing perfume-blood
Head to hands to dusty broken feet
Your walk with Him closer to death
The rugged weight of dry wood
Heavy heart anointed in knowing tears
You stood by his side-abandoned
By pharisaical disciples cowards call
His love grafted into bone and sinew
The empty mocking tomb
Like your barren heart
Devoid-all you lived for
Rudely taken away
Then He touches you again
With glorious anointing
Head to heart to weary feet
With apostolic "Go-Tell" command
Demonized-Prostitute
Apostle-Evangelist
Stanley Arumugam
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 2:55 PM UTC
#
*How long wilt thou - this generation of deceit and joy – detain,
Starve, and defraud the people of our holiest reign?
Content ingloriously wasted to pass by as our falling days,
Like the flooding rains, as virtuous fools chase each other’s praise:
Till all thy fleshly allegories, now dimmed once shined so bright
As the multitudes grow stale - tarnished with each day’s new light.
Please believe me, ye youth by whose royal fruit thy must be
Gathered before ripened - else ye rot upon the tree.
Heaven itself must be sufficiently allotted, soon of late,
Like some unlucky youthful revolution born purely out of fate.
This false fate whose notions if we watch with skill,
For does not human good depend on human will?
Fortune rolls upward like lava, smoothly it does ascend,
From its first release, it takes not the bend.
But, if un-seized, it glides away like the wind
And leaves us - a late repenting fool far behind.
Now to meet with you, the you reading of this glorious prize,
As I spread these wisdom words before you as above you he flies.
Had thus Old Noah, from whose ***** we all offspring,
Not dared, when fortune called him to be the lead offering,
At the bottom of the ocean in exile he might still remain
And Heaven's sacred anointing oil would have been in vain.
Let Noah’s successional ages to your heart engage
And not shun the examples of this prophesized declining age.
For behold soon there comes three days of darkness to the skies,
As the shadows lengthen into the airs and then we slowly vaporize.*
#
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 12:52 PM UTC
The language in the dimmer rooms seems to represent its light source well
How soft they speak and seem to be at peace
with the movement of the music and the madness that is pulling me into this
And the shades of the lamps are woven red
The light, it stains and consecrates
anointing all forgotten forms that swirl and smoke
and haunt this place
The girls in gowns all nurse the dark
pulling it near to their swelling *******
and watch as it seeps to their hearts
and beats within their ****** chests
And here I know that seduction breeds from wanton hearts that would
****** and grows and spreads its vine
and leaves embracing those who might have moved
But now we're made to drink the night from vials black and thick
with such intoxicating delights would leave you drunk
inside this dream
And you watch them take the light from you
and you find yourself on a velvet couch
tasting the skin of a foreign girl
Her eyes are black and wet like oil
and she ties your hands with a string of pearls
and you tremble like a frightened bird
And she closes in and captures you to place you
in a silver cage deep within her poisoned womb
So once you're safe inside she might let you out
to fly in circles around the room,
but it's always night and there is no moon
and you wonder if you're alive
and you're not sure if you want to be
but you drink her sweat like it was wine
any you lay with her on a bed of blue and it's awful sweet
like the fruit she cuts and feeds to you
Apr 3, 2012
Apr 3, 2012 at 7:35 PM UTC
We know about three wise men visiting Christ.
But during his time, women played vital roles of importance to him.
Even after death, they was the first to see him.
Women of faith.
Women of proof.
That the Lord Jesus life's meant many things.
Mother Mary, who gave birth to him?
And raised him to accept the anointing placed upon him.
One wise woman, who barely gets the credit due to her.
God selected her personally to be the source.
Who carry this burden for all of us?
A woman of character.
A woman of strength.
One wise mother.
Who gave birth to a wise man?
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 6:52 PM UTC
Stardate whatever.
The Klingons are attacking and my tricorder isn’t functioning.
Conjectural and anointing the furrows of my phaser blasted brow.
There you are.
A messy image in the transporter beam.
Gleaming and swaying amongst the particles of dust.
“I’m impossible to save,” I say.
“So save yourself, this planet is about to blow.” I say again.
It seems our universal translator isn’t working.
Otherwise, you would have left me.
Trusting is the hardest part.
I’ll do without it.
Beam me up Scotty.
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 5:14 PM UTC
020121
Bless the Lord, oh my soul
From the beginning of time,
And beforehand of everything that exists,
There You are —
You’re the Breathe who creates.
I was treasured by Your affection
Even in my mother’s womb,
You call me and draw me near
Despite flaws and imperfections.
I run the race You’ve paved,
And there, I got my battle scars
But my strength, my joy comes not from this world,
Your peace You give to my dying heart.
Praise You put on my lips,
And every moment treasured
In the bending of my knees.
What shall it profit me, oh Lord?
If I gain so much of this world
And then refused and neglected
Such a great salvation!
My inner thoughts, come in
In my mind palace, I’m throwing a party
Just for You and me
Your attention I seek,
Your anointing I thirst,
Your presence I long.
Nov 24, 2022
Nov 24, 2022 at 2:49 AM UTC
I wish for you
beautiful memories
in the coming year
and the poem-sight
to record them forever,
living moments internal,
transformed to eternal...
may the vapors
of this winter's breaths,
living, love and loss,
rise up, as smoke
to be returned
unto you,
inscribed within the
*spring rains warmth,
summer's stunning,
breathtaking sunsets,
autumnal leave drops
anointing your humanity,
and yet,
one more time,
next December,
in a tear-shaped snowflake,*
that upon your tongue will fall, and,
the taste thereof,
giving you pause,
to acknowledge
this singular sentiment:
the year is crowned,
let next year's
joyful imaginings
exceed, add,
to the equity
of our lives.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 7:24 AM UTC
*Bodacious ginger candied poetry
still life of Moet's marmalade art
dark cherry wine lingerie
Beethoven's flair of symphony
surrendered in your rapture
submitted to your every whim
bonadage and silky wraps
rapid rhythmic rhyming beats
reverberate breathing sparks
painted Daliesque posies
silent echoes of dark apparitions
ocean swells anointing bliss
moon tides sacred kiss,
nature's chromatic dust
pink pearlized polka dots
intoxicating kaleidoscopic eyes
reflections of butterfly hues
darkly encapsulated horror
naked souls, weeping spirits
sculpted iridescent rainbows
brazen relished heart's desire
rubik's cube algorithm mind games
wrap'd in figgy puddin' ladyfingers
tickling traces in bold context
power of words compels us,
cure all for anything at all,
salty sea breezes
& poetry* ~
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC
Judy Judy Kansas cutie / it starts in the heartland / Tornado = social change through manipulated crisis / Toto the only free agent / Dorothy struck on her head by the closing window of virtual possibility / She realizes that hope'n'change have reached the prairie / Alice in Wonderland Hollywood / Kansas as futurist narrative / Star Wars pre-dated / It's a Wonderful Mythic Life / Miss Gulch as Henry Potter / Witchery in bitchery: Hillary 2016 / Scarecrow as Celtic bog-sacrifice victim / Tinman as ****** therapy client / Did that hurt? No - it felt wonderful ! / Bible-belt Pentecostal subtexts: "the anointing" / obsolete leonine monarchies / Louis Quatorze the Sun King / enlightenment through concussion / the tyrant must be resisted from the heartland / populist progressives plot stealthily to justify their rule through the wizardry of science / the tyrant utilizes tech to manipulate the credulous / green state fascism / journey out of ontic inevitability into the futurist nightmare / eco-mammon bailouts / infantile mental midgets ruled by witch-tyrants = One World Munchkinland / Dorothy as redeemer-Messiah / Dorothy as Mary Poppins / America exports populist prophecy to the greater world / Glinda the Matriarch-Goddess / Glinda as transcendent Wisdom / the Anti-witch antidote / Patriarchy creates "special effects" subterfuge / flying monkeys: shock-troops of the witch / simian social justice warriors / Obama as Witch of West AND Wizard simultaneously / flying monkeys: brown-shirt armies of new multi-culti order / George W. Bush was the the witch the house ("Hope & Change') fell on / Over the Rainbow: somewhere beyond ****** identity grievance-mongering / There's no place like the Restoration of All Things
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 5:49 PM UTC