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Mateuš Conrad Oct 2017
i seem to only see three constellations in the night
sky these days... the modo -
it be the sign of: the age of scorpio,
there's but the big & little dipper (respectively)

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do these people really need to be spoon fed?
the smaller dipper is akin to the big
dipper, hence to write in the other
and last constellation (minus that odd rhombus
without a name) -
  and believe me when i say: orthodox
astrology doesn't agree with me:

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i guess i managed to draw the right
schematic,
   besides the point, there are but
three constellations in the night sky
around here, and one is a revisionist take
on the scorpio...
******* hippies, and your age of aquarius,
     this is what a scorpion looks like,
and nothing what you've indicated,
i'm starting to think that astrologists
did poorly in geometry class...

but i'll end it on a positive note...
  
   there is more dignity in being ascribed an
epitaph, than being given a "proper" burial...


and by "proper" i mean: the leech family
members waiting for inheritance,
  the sycophantic actors of attendance -

throw me into a mass grave, i don't mind
for a "proper" burial...
   there is no dignity in whatever burial
ensues as many will do...
but allow man to transcend
the date of birth ** / yy / zz
and the date of death zz / yy / **
with an epitaph...
        however "wise" the man was in life,
his dignity only arrives postmortem,
in the form of an epitaph...

but one epitaph overshadows a thousand
quotable mentions of the man, when alive,
but one epitaph of a david,
overcomes the oeuvre of maxims of a goliath.
    
whatever argument for light pollution exists,
even when in the scottish highlands
i didn't see any more stars...
  there are only three constellations in play
on the night sky,
  and one of them is the genuine scorpio
constellation,
with the orthodox constellation being
bogus, fake, unnecessary...

i, i've spotted the constellation of scorpio,
and i did so: with my naked eyes!
Glenn McCrary Sep 2012
A subtle carol echoes of the evening
Upon bended knee I am arrested
Betwixt strange refrains
Shaking the floorboards of Teicu

The evocative moans amplify
The foolish peacemaker of astrologists
The English dream of poetry

Those I coaxed by death
Were the witnesses of the tragedy
And were familiar with its ballad

Crafted the design ‘tis conceptual *******
Eradicated their honor for vanilla threads
As they shimmy and shimmy

They defile elongated hankering
And retreated in the greenhouse of Woodstock
Its language made iconic by efficacious character

Having often been labeled an experiment
Broadening its brilliance along death’s boulevard
‘tis she who was the stunning one

Her language made sacred by her iconic fame
A long time controversial reference
An automaton, an origin of extraterrestrial etiology

The evocative moans ensnares the tourist
riwa Oct 2016
you were never home to me
but my longing for that was so intense, it almost felt like you were
and then all at once i realized; you're my hiraeth
to be with you, inside our own four walls, was all i desired
but our house was destined to burn down

our love is a set of stars that make up a constellation
too complicated for even the most experienced astrologists to decipher
but you will continue to be my hiraeth
because the comfort i feel when im in your arms is incomparable
and although you cant be, you will always feel like home to me

i yearned for our love to be forever
but it was meant to desist
and then all at once i realized; it's our ephemeral
lamentably, it can't be our forever
for it was made of stars, and all stars have to die out eventually

but let's let it be ephemeral
because although the stars will dwindle away soon,
while they are still burning bright, they are beautiful,
and so are we
i will always love you.
(9.4.16)
Brycical Jan 2013
Questions are often asked
about my optimistic smile,
the happy-go-lucky personality
and unwavering confidence.

The most common question:
How do you know
these things?


I don't ******* know.
I know nothing.
I have no ******* idea
where 73% of my thoughts, words and ideas come from.
I don't even feel like it's "me"
speaking/typing most of the time.

Sometimes I have no idea
that i'm telling you
It's going to be alright
because the words just
charge out of my mouth.
But I'm saying what is inside my brain.
I don't think about it.
That's my reaction.

Confused yet?

In the end
it's all going to be alright
cause we'll be dead.
Either our conscious ceases
or we are reconnected to all things--
that complete warm one-with-all feeling
some call god or heaven or nirvana
but we're going to forget all this stupid **** anyway.

I have no clue what I do or don't know,
between your volatility of perception
and society trying to hypnotize me
into complacency while it slowly burns away,
I'm lucky to know my own ******* name.

If you want answers to life's questions,
stay away from me.
Ask someone shrewd enough
who pretends to know.
Personally, I don't think there are any answers
because they are whatever each person
wishes them to be.
I can only tell you
what I feel and see in each moment
as it's happening.

Ask allah, preachers, Zen, astrophysicists, philosophers, Reikis, dictionary writers, lawyers, mathematicians, astrologists, Buddha, Industrial engineers, the ******* guy who delivers your food (or anyone really) for answers
and more than likely you will have different kinds of **** answers.

But if you ask yourself,
you will find truth.
Samy Ounon Aug 2013
I saw it a few days ago
I chanced a glance into the void
The place in which all emotions fall and seclude themselves
The place where there are no stars and there is nothing but loud space
She'd just tore away from me
A small tear in the muslin
But she pulled and pulled
Until the void was exposed in my shredded star chart
That subtle darkness in the undertones undulating thickly
Turbulent waves beneath the glorified surface thinness
And behind the closed door it-
It was just a second really
And the hopeless scientist behind me
The dark and big and pragmatic and meek
He didn't see
But he knew
And he wanted it back
And again
She left me frayed

In another winter
Before I could look to the skies and find meaning
When our world was lit only by the fires of forthcoming fears and futile flickers
What clouded the far-off pinpricks, the soft pinching of reality knocking at my door?
It was her straight-edge fragility
And her straight-edge solution
Now her world is lit by a different kind of fire
A fire that numbs
So she said
A fire that heals
So she claims
A flickering flame that destroys every membrane of my being
And binds my hands to my feet
And shoots wildly across the sky
So I cry
And I weep
And I, a universe of atoms
     feel like a lost atom in her universe
I safely encased in my crinkled paper, but
Hot holes slowly eat their way through

No maps or constellations face any competition before her
But all she sees is a world of comets and fire
My short fuse is wilted
So she unzips her skin with a zippo
And she freezes time
And she runs across my horizon
Bright, beautiful, blazing
She is forever above my hands
Her path unseen and unforseeable
A spectators daydream
The astrologists' nightmare
Ammar Younas Dec 2018
To whom this moon is navigating tonight?
You are so shining and radiating tonight

My soul is dancing in rhythm of dim light
Songs of your bangles are agitating tonight

Grandma told me to wish to a falling star
I wished long ago but still awaiting tonight

It was your gravity which kept me encircling
I'm not in my orbit and deviating tonight

How many sleeps your thoughts have spoiled yet
Nights are awakening and aggregating tonight

Earth, air, water, fire seem to be disturbed now
All our horoscopes are escalating tonight

Will our stars be matching in next life?
Astrologists are meeting and estimating tonight

I had requested some place in her heart
I heard, she agreed and allocating tonight
Bringing tears of pain
Full redness and burning
Campfires of the Earth
Volcanos, ripping investments
Planning of all the ants

"It'll destroy the world,"
Views of eco freaks
On the wrench
Only seeing the bolt

On, not the pureness of the engine
Revving of all the gear heads
White knuckling all those who don't;
Pure daily drivers, all

Specializing in their niches
Preyed upon by statisticians
Numbers, by day
Astrologists by night

Spinning above our heads
Lain east to west, chi
Without regard
For silly things
When shy girls lick their lips
When brave men cower
When the astrologists no longer believe
And the world stops rotating
When the clocks quit their ticking
When fingertips stop feeling
When the stars burn out 3 thousand miles away
And you can no longer smile
When denim jeans are all faded
When love letters are all burnt
When glass is shattered
And hearts stop beating
I will still go on
Thinking too deeply hurts too much
Life is a dream!
Eh Apr 2012
The day the dead rose and walked the streets,
We fell in like.
We took to the beach and sat under the sky.
And we pretended to be astrologists.
And we pretended to be in love.
Just for that one night.
We missed the concert.
And now we pretend to miss each other.

You moved back from Vegas
Moved out there with your love
But four years was too much
You told me to come over and comfort you
And I did
One thing led to another
And a heart ended up breaking
We still talk from time to time

I use to be funny to you,
I remember.
But these days I'm not fooling anyone.
You use to tell me, "I love you"
But now you don't because you think I may "take it the wrong way"
That's fine.
We can still make plans to get out of this place if you want
And we can talk whenever
And I'll lie and say no feelings are left
And that I'm alright.
labyrinth Jan 2022
Since the astrologists
Are doing a ****** job
Poor epidemiologists
Have to work overtime

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