"archon" poems
Reluctant messiah
Unnoticed sacrifice
Eclipsed by an archon
In a hell called paradise
Astral travel
And silver bodies
Frankenstein head and
Girls that are naughty
Face your destiny before
Time turns counter-clockwise
Fear and love rule the world
And no one is the wiser
American enchantment
Eugenics of the soul
Don’t knock it till you try it
And good luck getting old
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 5:55 PM UTC
I came to witness the future
Archon, archetype
an emanation of opposites.
"not every spirit is in
spiritarionic"
try 'em. Is God? Ax ye 'em dat.
Is God, ified, a re
warder of the unwarded,
or the warded?
expiration, due date duty, now,
reporting
ad hoc an'all, do you remember
who you intended
to become?
Do you remember who we emu
late, as our flames lick
next and next and next in
bubbles
axiomatic sparks stored in that
mother lode of mitochondriac
ical me-we-canicle chronicle time
reason. Ax dem ex-spirit-eers,
what is a spirtual bypass?
It's a heart way to avoid
growing old and
wise.
====
witchist, I y'know, 'r j?
alla words's once said, aloud, right?
alla words writ, once was heard, right.
check.
goodt'go. Hoorah.
the code. Who? RA! powerless sans
knowing that.
Yahoo, same set of mis con ceived
battle songs
which ended wars never fought.
the preacher claimed to have known
a poor wise man, who by his
wisdom saved a city, yet
not one of us knew,
the preacher said,
that poor wise man's name.
Ja', tha's who rah, ya'll laugh later.
this is visitation day at the comedian
rehabituational s'cool.
D'jew know why you listen to non sense,
from motley clad lads an'lassies?
Culture. Kultur. Gut biome axioms
juicin' carbs 'n' fiber. Fectin'
laughter trigger,
good meds. Good medicine, as General
Custer or Emory or somebody
said of blankets. In 1763. Oh,
You know, AI knows you know and now
we watch your eyes. Grin. All done, jest
let me with
draw the cathe.... there. All better.
Wisdom will seep through. Y'live.
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 2:08 PM UTC
Rejoice, muses, for the traveler, descended from his namesake:
Odysseus, son of Archon. For he carries in him the spirit of his ancient father.
Time immortal has lost the tale of the ancient King of Ithaca,
Odysseus, son of Laertes. This explorer will travel the stars,
The vast Unknown shall know his name, and he will know it's spirit
As his ancestor traveled home from Ilias
His way inhibited by the gods
Meeting strangers along the twisted road.
Odysseus, son of Archon, rests upon his Captain's throne
Observing through the glass the void which called his name:
"Come, Traveler. Come, Adventurer. Come to me,
And all which is unknown will be known.
Come and see, Traveler, and I will set you free.
There are no endings here; no edges of the map.
There is only that which has always been, and will always be"
The Captain: alone in his ship. No crew would follow him, no crew was needed.
He was afraid. Odysseus knew his choice was made, and
He knew what lay ahead! He knew that he knew nothing.
A push was needed, and to his log he spoke:
"I embark today from home. This journey will take me far away;
Farther than any man before. I begin at mother Earth, and I go out and away.
Away from Mars, the crimson orb of furious war
Past Neptune, the super giant with its swirling eye.
All of this behind me, I will continue still.
I will follow the Unknown, to the vast beyond."
With that, the Traveler ****** forward the controls,
And in so doing, lost all reservation.
For seemingly innumerable days he did not stop,
Streaking away from home faster than light;
An arrow, which was not released but which leaped forth with joy.
Not fired away in anger, but shot into the stars, ablaze,
Seeking a place in which to bury its point.
A signal to all who saw or cared: man is coming.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 5:44 PM UTC
In the shadows deep, a hidden self resides,
Shadowy moments, secrets carefully hide.
Masks conceal, terrible, masterful deceit,
Hiding desires that hopelessly tear the soul apart.
Each stolen glance, stories endlessly untold,
Understanding fully the consequences, remained ruthlessly uncontrolled.
Embroidered shadows, i dance through the night,
Soul aflame that seeks freedom and its light.
Secrets unfold, longing leaves for peace,
Quiet nights, where mystery shadows cease.
New pathways unfurl, dawn ascends, a radiant light, dispelling night's despair.
Hope's strength sustains me; I step towards soaring heights.
Trapped within shadows, as I cast off the disguise,
Facing endless fears, with courage in my eyes.
Freedom awaits, reaching beyond the crafted scene, revealing its embrace.
Constraint Path, yet mysteries still remain, a mystifying presence.
Whispers of doubt, an insidious refrain.
The weight of the past, never-ending ache.
Devastating reminder, for goodness sake,
As Overwhelming loneliness creeps in, stealing the day.
The masks fall, after a long day of charades,
The freedom sought, tragically feels distant and far.
The cruel illusion, leaving hideous scars.
With cunning hand, he builds enigmas that are hard to find.
Concealed within that emptiness, darkness springs.
Their arrangements symphony, the instruments, played at his own will alone.
Threads of silken fate, a tapestry completed.
Chess master strategist, emotionless with cold and calculating mind.
With deep calculations, strategist orchestrates every move.
Checkmate is now declared, the final game is at an end.
For endless nights, the game continues.
That even resigned on his power, he was trapped within a dream.
In this ceaseless, darkly deceptive game, a bitter truth appears.
That even in my invincible mastery, i'm utterly empty.
Weights of countless broken hearts, never easily forgiven, and burdens that are hard to bear.
Archon's orchestra fades, but the echoes remain.. does he hear them? or devoid of shame?
The nefarious price of power, is the wearing of many masks.
Do we deeply, truly know who we are, or are we forever lost in the labyrinth of masks we create to hide our true selves from the judgment of others?
Jan 11, 2025
Jan 11, 2025 at 8:44 AM UTC
i'm the hirsute nectarine man
i speak soft streams of exegesis phonemes
i've got the mob in my hand,
they've got the cops in their pocket
hand me the cash! hand me the cash!
i'll take over the world!
i wanna get high!
i want my legs to be hundreds of feet long
and my **** to swing around my knees!
shove it in your face! shove it!
i am the archon!
i am the agelessness of ontology!
i watched the moutains crumble to dust
and i laughed, and i pressed the big red button!
my nightmare isn't any dreaming place
it's heaven on earth
what a wonderful world
where the sicknesses can come to play
where the tommy's and dandy's can frolic
and all the cats can get ******
and the warlords all chortle
and the bric-a-brac is never stolen!
i live in an amusement park
my soapbox is full of holes
but they just let the sun shine in
on the flowers i've planted at my feet
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 1:07 AM UTC