"archetype" poems
Babylon has fallen! Aye; but Babylon endures
Wherever human wisdom shines or human folly lures;
Where lovers lingering walk beside, and happy children play,
Is Babylon! Babylon! for ever and for aye.
The plan is rudely fashioned, the dream is unfulfilled,
Yet all is in the archetype if but a builder willed;
And Babylon is calling us, the microcosm of men,
To range her walls in harmony and lift her spires again;
The sternest walls, the proudest spires, that ever sun shone on,
Halting a space his burning race to gaze on Babylon.
Babylon has fallen! Aye; but Babylon shall stand:
The mantle of her majesty is over sea and land.
Hers is the name of challenge flung, a watchword in the fight
To grapple grim eternities and gain the old delight;
And in the word the dream is hid, and in the dream the deed,
And in the deed the mastery for those who dare to lead.
Surely her day shall come again, surely her breed be born
To urge the hope of humankind and scale the peaks of morn --
To fight as they who fought till death their ****** field upon,
And kept the gate against the Fate frowning on Babylon.
11k
Girly.
You call me girly.
When I wore pink,
You called me girly,
And said I was trying to be "the stereotype of femininity".
I just wanted to wear pink.
When I wore a skirt,
You called me girly.
Said I was just trying to impress boys and be slutty.
When I went out with a boy,
You called it "the death of feminism"
And when I cried,
You laughed and said "Cry, then, girly."
I- wait.
I am a girl.
If I am a girl, I must be girly.
And so you must be girly too.
Since when has being a woman been a slur?
All these angry ****** women,
Trying to make their taunts noble,
By hiding behind a noble title that they don't hold- Feminist.
They simply like to taunt, shame, bully
Other women, who don't fit into their archetype of ****** insecurity and violent jealousy.
They don't care about the sexism, that goes on daily,
Internationally, globally, yet never seems to end.
Oh no, they do not see the bigger picture.
You do not see the big picture.
It's just you against another girl,
And you trying to justify your actions
By misusing that word,
That word you just love to misuse,
Feminism.
So go ahead.
Call me girly.
I'll be glad, I'll be proud.
You just called me a woman.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC
Tip of the hat in recognition
To all devoted women and mothers,
Your love, care,strength, and devotion
Knows no bound like earth's weather
Like the morning star you shine
And lit the path to life;
Like a great messiah you fine
Rest for the family you have.
The laughter of your children always
Excite you and fills you with joy.
Through thick and thing you always
Stick around to show your love;
You're an embodiment of life greatest gift;
For you're twenty persons in one for us:
You're a teacher and a great therapist,
You're a doctor and a great nurse ,
You're a achef and a great baker
You're a driver and a great instructor
You're a daughter and great mother
You're a guardian and a great protector
You're a supporter and great superwoman
You're a queen and a great matriarch
You're a home maker and a great career woman
You're an archetype of motherhood and matriarch.
Whoever said: "Jack of all trade master
Of none" has never met you, in your home;
Like the great Elephant matriarch You master
The best skills and route of motherhood.
Jul 12, 2019
Jul 12, 2019 at 1:03 PM UTC
Like multiple personalities
Creatures inhabit me
I know each persona as she lives
Sweepingly amalgamated
Feminine and Feline
Paradoxal archetype
In woman’s intuition
I am free!
And I would be nothing less
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 12:56 PM UTC
Scene 1:
(Periwinkle room, Jigglypuff poster, soft alternative music)
I stomp in,
Niagara Falls streaming
Throw his copy of Pablo Neruda poetry into the trash
And start reading Virginia Woolf
Poetic revolution.
That’ll show him
Scene 2:
(Cafe atmosphere, fading laughter, upbeat music)
Whoa. That guy. Not that one.
The one on the left
Kinda nice, kinda cute
And he laughed at my joke
Jane Austen romances
and Zooey Glass daydreams
fill my waking moments
Scene 3:
(Restaurant, muffled conversations, classical music)
What is he staring at? Who is he staring at?
Oh no awkward conversation gap
Say something,
quick, anything
“The weather is nice tonight, yeah?”
Not that.
But he laughs
Night saved
Scene 4:
(Outside the restaurant, night breezes, car noises)
“That was nice,”
He casually mentions
Yeah. Nice.
Not great. Amazing. Life-altering.
Nice.
The same adjective used to describe the weather
Devoid of meaning.
Scene 5:
(Car, radio on silent, crickets chirping)
“I wanted to give you something”
Hands me,
Oh dear god no,
A copy of Neruda
That ****** Neruda.
Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 3:18 PM UTC
**I wondered if it was universal
and escaped archetype on the run
coming to me
w/ jazz loud on FM
and nicotine perfumed air
Restless
soon to be turned on
Magnetized
As the cars passed
time slowed down
Heavy attraction
Was it the southern comfort
or was it elusive
The mantra slurring my mind
Go Back
Go back
I step out of my vehicle after retrying a parking job
stutter step
SLAM!
the feeling again
Go back
Go back
I am waiting for my car light to turn off
cigarette connects with ice gold ground
I turn to go
Go Back
Go back
I miss to stomp the smoke
Mantra oh
I crush the smoke with my lead foot
the car light fades w/ the smoke
surreal
The energy dissipates
Left again
but was there
one thing
I did learn
is that
Confidence
makes your driving better
Elusive
please come back again
Driving for cannabis
finally refuse
A young girl asks for advice
Music take me away
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 10:21 PM UTC
Magic Mobile in my hand,
Who is the wonder of the Web?
Who's so special in the social?
Who should I follow?
Who should I love?
Who should I leave?
Swipe, here’s an archetype,
Swipe, that’s a stereotype,
Swipe, a melody pipe,
Swipe, the vibe of the tribe,
Swipe, don’t wait, subscribe.
Magic mobile in my hand,
Turn me into a pixel ray,
Let me through the display,
Into an ocean of emotion without delay,
Don’t wanna think I wanna play.
Jan 4, 2021
Jan 4, 2021 at 9:52 PM UTC
She's the girl with the Bambi Eyes
Hidden behind a pair
of heart-shaped sunglasses
The ones I bought her
I like to roll her name
off the tip of my tongue
from the pit
of the fire
of my *****
Great artists steal
She took my heart
and fueled it with temptation
and had me
fullfill her wish lists
with kisses of wishful thinking
if I thought I was going
to get more than pics
Seductive
snapshots
slipping
Something beautiful
in the back of my mind for once
'cause all I see dark
things sometimes
It'd be nice to shed some light
on the situation
like I'm worthy of enlightenment
we are all one narrative
choose your own anima archetype
******
operative
word
plays
my heart like a harp
and makes life seem
more
harmonious
The more she stares me down
with
assisted
spontaneous
combustion
on her mind
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 11:49 PM UTC
Submission upwards towards the void of eternal blessings in disguise
The angel behind the leather mask
Just wants us to feel out the sacred nature of our transgressions
Just vibrations stuttering along to a heartbeat
Liberation lashes
Tearing a hole in the sky
Teasing out the idea of turning you on
You were already lit up
Reflecting the Sun
Igniting fire to my *****
Illumination everything
switch
You came in the dark and left marks
Bruising my ego to dismantle itself
Dreams manifested
You held me down like sleep paralysis
Demanding my soul to sacrifice itself to the Moon
Watching with pleasure
You were the shadows in my room
Dancing the divine candlelight
A cuckold of my imagination
as I took it lying down
This is worship
This is tribute
3 cheers
3 chants
3 times
Go down
Descend on me
Goddess archetype
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 12:10 AM UTC
Creatively wit, artistically gifted -
politically inclined to design any archetype of freedom and how a woman should hold her head up high, like the almighty God she is.
Able to disfigure the illusions and misconception that the media and other forms of capitalistic control, teach her fellow sisters and Queen.
Prove to them that not only are they more than this 'sex symbol',
And being blind to this facts, just helps perpetuate the conditioning of self-hate,
that you're not light enough or too dark - you're just something that helps the sun shine on their fare skin.
And you're ****** is worth nothing more than it was compensated fo' 450 years ago,
to birth being that yet again go through the cycle of supremacy.
But you say,
**** ALL THAT -
I'm a Queen, GOD IS SHE.
So kiss my fat *** and my appletree.
Because me and my sisters sill no longer accept your misogynistic disrespect and immoral, emotional neglect.
Your referendums for ****** favors in exchange what is due me, ****** freedom and freedom to do whatever the **** I please.
And ever since I saw those defining characteristics in thee,
Since, I've always respected you as my Queen.
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 9:38 PM UTC
You don't love
me;
you love the
tip of the iceberg
that is your idea of me;
the sugar-coated mute
leading herds
of unfinished sentences
down the copious hills
of his insecurity;
the nice little writer
whose constant attempts
at legendary one-liners
are as hit-or-miss
as a sitcom still airing
far past its prime.
I possess three biomes,
or, rather, three networks
of personalities and identities.
I am much more than
the Jack Macfarland archetype
lip-syncing to Cher in the one
gay bar in town, tyrannically
governing your wardrobe,
possessing a razor-sharp wit
cast toward the backs of his community
in the form of an outdated punchline-
my work on that show
lost its Willful relevance
and Graceful naivete
years ago.
I am of the generation
fed media saturation
three four-hour meals a day,
who ingested cardboard cadavers
as if they were mother's milk
and internally mutated their
thoughts and desires
to fit the compact time frame
of 30 minutes
to settle the series' worth
of traumas and neuroses
while making it home for dinner
to stay tuned for what's
next in the lineup.
Speaking as a casualty of this
inevitable chain of events,
I regretfully declare that even
those who have seen
every episode of myself
for the past six seasons
are still light years away
from the room full of faces
unencumbered by euphemism.
Jun 27, 2010
Jun 27, 2010 at 10:59 AM UTC
You're just the
diamond in the rough
streets Chi-burbia
The girl next-door archetype
I'm just the
scumbag
psychopath
soliciting
snapchats
Darling,
Don't you wanna
get disrespected?
I know this wine
is loosening my lips
How about you?
Are you all wet yet?
Do you want me
to come in?
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 11:22 PM UTC
crimson mistress
(crimson flower
in the swooning gloom)
tell me
why against thy sharp
prickle
(eyes of lynx)
my heart I’m pressing
(æt the nihtegale)*
and don’t understand that
freedom
(like the archetype of Moon)
of the kiss
with laughter devoted
in the broad gardens
---------------
*(with the nightingale)
The original:
***(тъмночервена господарке)
тъмночервена господарке
(тъмночервено цвете
във припадащия мрак)
кажи ми
защо във острия ти
шип
(очи на рис)
сърцето си притискам
(със славея)
и не разбирам тази
свобода
(както и архетипа на луната)
на целувката
със смях отдадена
в широките градини
*Translator Bulgarian-English: Vessislava Savova
rarebird
Dec 11, 2010
Dec 11, 2010 at 10:17 AM UTC
I dreamed
there was a evil man
searching for wealth
beyond all riches
hidden in the hardened
sculpture of a woman
there was a hero too
I could not see his face
he journeyed to a sacred cave
to guard the precious treasure
he climbed inside
the statue's hollow center
and held the treasure to his chest
where it radiated
with such intensity
he had to close his eyes
it gently pulsed in his hands
calming the anxiousness
leaching sour
in his throat
the villain
shrouded black
entered the cave
a belligerent pirate
yelling obscenities
*where are you *****
when I find you, you'll be sorry
you think you can hide from me?
no one will ever love you
the way that I do*
his craven hunger upon seeing
the lost prize glowing heavenly
beneath sapphire stalactites
left this dreamer cold
he began to tear
at the sculpture's *******
with hands encased in forged steel
spiked fingernails slicing
until shimmering gold bloomed
in the statue's chest
zealously the villain tore deeper
molten yellow dripped
from his over-eager fingers
when suddenly from the center
came a flash of scorching fire
the villain dissolved to ash
without a single sound
the hero too transformed
into a luminous bird
not unlike a phoenix
he shook fresh wings
flexed honed talons
raised his crested head
and from hooked beak
there came a sound
like a choir of voices singing
the hero flapped three times
and soared out of the cavern
into the bluest sky
I'd ever seen
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 11:50 AM UTC
He loves me like a dog;
Not a pet, not a beloved family member
But a common mutt,
cast into the wild
when I do not fetch the bone he throws me.
He loves only when I do not howl at the moon
for the injustice and evil of this cruel life.
He loves on a seasonal this-and-that sort of term
And kicks at my chest
when I sleep on his sofa or lick at his heels.
He breaks me like a horse-
To become his archetype-
And revolts at the Jezebel I am supposed to be
And yet,
this dog comes crawling back to the arms who should love me
unconditionally…
I come back to my accuser,
I crawl to my stereotype-
After all I am a **** good** maid.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 4:01 PM UTC
Oh sweet father
Archetype of a man
Determined artisan
Architect of life
Aged without any ego
Balance in the throes
Passed on regrettable genes
Always wore your wedding ring
Hoped we were dead you screamed
Just to name a few things
Oh grandfather
the eminent
My true father so evident
Worked a gold cast
Until it broke your back
Aged without ego
Stable through hardship woes
Your blood didn't run in my veins
But I would gladly take your genes
Always wore your wedding ring
Born a quiet cool
And as calm as a summer spring
Jun 4, 2018
Jun 4, 2018 at 8:58 PM UTC
A small speck in a spectacular church.
I seek some smaller, simpler works.
A green man worms through wooden leaves,
struggling for freedom from nature.
Blank eyes return my straining stare.
Sharp sculptings scratch my cautious touch.
Brooding, symbolic soul,
nightmare archetype,
stalker of the psyche.
Nature greedily grips the green man,
growing through gaping eyes and nose,
reaching for modern eco-man,
who disputes to his final throes.
Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 6:29 AM UTC
I. centipede:
-
They come from both directions and it doesn't take long
for me to realize that they've figured me out.
My mind was fast, but not as swift as the hands
of five-hundred outreaching hands; one angry crowd.
Grabbing at limbs, low and high, they don't waste a second
before tearing me in every direction; at least the cardinal four.
My mind takes flight, leaves fancy, but not before
I get in one last swear, and one last spittle in their faces.
II. snake
-
Tail and head aren't in sync this morning, I tell ya.
No rattle, no bite, just a lot of traffic and heat shimmers
in the one place I don't need to be today.
The people here act like they don't know me,
but they still turn their noses up when I empty my mug.
The waitress answers when spoken to,
but just stares in the time in between wheezing breaths.
I've got to get out of this county, this state.
III. scorpion
-
Ronny hasn't been on a roof since a couple years after we got married.
He wrapped his ankle in some gutters and took a spill;
his thigh popped right out of it's socket and he just dangled
like some kind of prize in one of those crane games.
Doctor says he can still have kids, and I know he can still get it up
from how he watches that ****** **** on t.v.
But he wont touch me; hasn't in fifteen months, I've counted.
He's in for a surprise once the settlement clears.
IV. lizard
-
Wallflowers never get anywhere with their mouths sewn shut
and I cut my stitches well before my teens;
I got what I needed and I made sure of it.
But there is something to be gained from
basking in the naivety of youth and ignorance.
Trouble doesn't set in as well, and boredom comes
as some kind of waiting period, rather than the norm.
These bars are a reminder of why they don't let me make the rules.
V. toad
-
Invulnerable, incontestable, unphasable, archetype.
I listen for the right words to drop the shields,
but I'm only met with the silence that accompanies
asphyxiation through means of wet wax paper.
The touch of phantoms tingle along my skeleton's core
telling me the time for lollygagging has long since passed.
Stand up, giant, you're running hot and the moon
keeps calling out, "follow the lit road home".
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 7:29 PM UTC
Death-song
War garbles a tune, spits up
blood.
Bodies, empty pits
of eyes and entrails
break like a birch branch.
White waste flits down like snow.
An archetype, copied, laboured forever
melts into a meticulous concoction.
The apocalypse sets in with a daze, drawing
drunken curtains over the survivor soul.
The crow is a warrior,
with his black machine gun eyes.
Easy.
God coughs, the countryside,
elegiac to start
hacks with a demon.
The smoke pulls, harsh, and takes the tab.
It's all a waste of white ash.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 11:08 AM UTC
Life is a sacred journey.
No two are the same.
Respect for divergence
is paramount
to a holistic experience.
Life
is not about
status-quo
or
expectations,
t'is simply what's made thereof
Lyphe
is a sacred opportunity
not to be taken lightly
Our Bodies
are our umbilical vessels
which tether us
as mortals
to "Reality,"
which, in itself,
seems to me to be
a reduction of potentials
from chance
to actuality
such ephemeral eternety;
infinite limitations;
actualized potentials;
possible paths-
these are but some of
the koan-like attributes
which lead me to use
the rather ambiguous
and ambitious
term "sacred."
Truly,
it becomes
whatthefucksoever
One may well will
to create thereof.
Action is Manifestation,
yet Thought begets Action.
Therein lies the sacred gift of Life.
'T'is all too oft taken for granted.
Every living being
(i am convinced)
has an equally vivid depth of experience
and I find it more than somewhat offensive
that humans (with a lowercase H)
feel they are the penultimate organism.
All is One
in that existence, itself,
tethers us all
to everything
and probably even beyond,
and so
to be so
hubristic and arrogant
as to assume a hierarchy
so convieñantly crested by mere
**** Sapiens Sapiens*
seems to me to be
an anthrocentric and narcissistic projection
of that meddlesome ages-old archetype
of the "Ego,"
that is to say "God,"
whatthefuckever that means!
Find it in thyself
to be humble enough
to accept that each and every iota of "Creation"
is, by virtue of association, equally sacred; divine.
Heirarchy, thus, seems to be a manifestation of some desire for order; control; a yearning to alleviate some hypothetical insecurity as a result of being essentially "absolute, infinite" (vis-a-vis the domain of Consciousness) yet contained within a vessel that is mortal, and, thus, ephimeral.
The Ego doth so loathe it's own limitations:
too bad it's far too arrogant to realize that most of the limitations it experiences are illusions, allusions;
charades of an insatiable Consciousness
Hell-bent on experiencing something
it won't redily allow itself to experience!
What a Holy fuckton of
incredulous, ineffable, impalpable, inspirational **** that would be, eh?! (insert interrobang)
I am me (I think...)
as thou art thee;
so why can't that just be good enough?
Could it be?
What obstruction precludes such harmonious divergence?
I reckon 't'is but us;
and very little else, indeed!
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 9:37 AM UTC
I keep seeing her
in post-traumatic
flashbacks
back to back
she's bound
in a little
black dress
Tearing through
the mayhem
the mosh pit
of my mind
To save me
Some punk princess
archetype
always
in another castle
castrating
the *******
symbol
Because she's
'O so liberated
...So I decorated her
With a pearl necklace
Old patriarchal
habits
die hard
Honey
Sweet
Nectar
Ambrosia
Summoned
from my
sacral chakra
Come
my
Goddess
Come
my
Goddess
Come
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 5:39 PM UTC
The heat intensifies with my lonesome tendencies, and
I fear palpitation from innocently brushing arms with a stranger.
But when I find myself in a stranger’s bed
(or a wineshop,
a car,
a park)
the thrill is missing.
I am a stereotype, a masochistic statistic. I am becoming the 20-something-sleeping-around-to-stave-off-boredom.
I am an archetype that’s been romanticized to death.
Save the romance, it’s greed and it’s hunger and it’s pure boredom.
These men become gold. Thread after thread
of secret affairs solidify into a piece of treasure,
Like 14 karat chain necklaces that get tangled
into an unfixable knot of links and claw clasps.
I carry it in my strut and that is exciting.
My walk is confidently direct at 3 in the morning.
In the summer, when the heat is outside and not in my bed, I am unsatisfied.
Yet when the promise of romance approaches, I allow myself to make poor decisions out of fear.
So I make a different poor decision to get me through the next hour.
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 4:00 AM UTC
love is a
state of mind
an emotion
sometimes ephemeral
sometimes steadfast
its source
an archetype
formless
it is not a relationship
although it may exist
in a relationship
or only
in a moment
like a spark in the dark
it is a function of imagination
as is empathy
it is magical thinking
*** may be an instrument of love
or a powerful healing balm
in and of it self
a profound therapy
and seen as an act of
divine grace
the ancients knew this
but unlike them
we have taken
sacred prostitutes
from ancient temples
vessels of the
goddess eroticism
Astarte of the Canaanites
Áine of the Celts
Min of the Egyptians
Aphrodite of the Greeks
Kama of the Hindus
Inanna of the Mesopotamians
and transformed them into demons
by subjugation to the depths of our subconscious
the archetypal female was replaced
by the neutered holy ghost
the patriarchal symbolic genital mutilation of women
a gift of horrors by Romes Council of Nicea
crippling values written in stone
frigidity guilts child
an abysmal morality
a theft by
kleptomaniacs of freedoms desire
for two millennium
vessels of the goddess
have been transmuted into a profanity
inflicting
a cold homicide on
****** freedom
forcing the abandonment
of a most essential constituent of sanity
the miraculous repair and revitalization
of the soul
through passions physical touch
sensual love
and the release of pent up desire
and left in its place
a harness of deprivation
an expression of a regressive culture
that promotes
a barren terrain
between
emotional ****** insecurity
and the monotony of monogamy
I am a voice of Thelema for the coming Aeon of Horus
LOVE IS ALL LOVE UNDER WILL
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 6:01 PM UTC