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Kemy Sep 2018
Can you feel it
Shh, allow the galaxy to pamper your body, blanket the essence of your mind, bit-by-bit
Travel on a higher awareness to understand the galaxy’s gentle gift
Close your eyes and allow your mind to softly drift

Soft Moonlight Dust
Illuminating the night skies, given warmth of its inner trust
Centered in the sky, a star abates for its enlighten ******
Kindred minds to enrapture, as souls physically adjust

So gentle, as a touch to the skin
An inner space to conquer, there an exploring craving begins
Awareness of self stirring into the constellation
Bodies attuned beyond the stretch of imagination
Savoring on the flavor of the alignment sweeten taste
Desires igniting an inferno, the heat of its flames refusing to wait

Overheated friction surrendering without debates
Runaway yearning weakening in the presence of fate
The ecstasy of the moonlight’s dust felt, abiding to the crack of dawn
Emotions of the elixir slowly withdrawn

A Cheshire moonrise
Always a sacred communion given in surprise
Masked feelings hidden behind the stars in our eyes
Sprinkles of pixie dust as the moon becomes full
Paired upon, as lace meets wool
Interwoven and tenderly spun on a galactic spool

Stars In Exile
Twinkling for eyes to glimpse beyond the earth’s smile
Canopus to Antares, oh how you make me shine
Closing my eyes, coveting your point as I’m making you mine

Settled and glittering as small diamonds binding in the sky
A wondrous elopement to experience in the blink of an eye
Soft whispers to the ones that shoot right before they fall
Such a beautiful and breathlessly cadence to wish under them all

The Gift Of The Sun’s Stroke
Umm, shooting stars kept me awoke
Relentless bodies bathing under the moon
Caresses, touches, entwined souls echoing the note of its weakening tunes

Sweeter and sweeter, deeper and deeper
Bodies fueled, hot as a heater, bodies climbing steeper and steeper
Heat consumes the interior of the temple
Sweat of life, as movements come together and then disassemble
Elated, sedated, dipping in a cool blue lagoon
Kisses under the sun on a beautiful afternoon
Temperatures rising not a moment too soon

June slamming into summer’s heat
A merriment of a sun stroke basking in the glorious feast
The galaxy and its spicy passion
A gift to the world to enjoy in any unbridled fashion
She would give them order. She would create constellations.
Thomas Pynchon
Diane Aug 2020
Walking through darkness.
Luna leads our way back home,
Two neutron stars collide.
THEY have taken the ball of earth
    and made it a little thing.

They were held to the land and horses;
    they were held to the little seas.
They have changed and shaped and welded;
    they have broken the old tools and made
    new ones; they are ranging the white
    scarves of cloudland; they are bumping
    the sunken bells of the Carthaginians
    and Phœnicians:
              they are handling
              the strongest sea
              as a thing to be handled.

The earth was a call that mocked;
    it is belted with wires and meshed with
    steel; from Pittsburg to Vladivostok is
    an iron ride on a moving house; from
    Jerusalem to Tokyo is a reckoned span;
    and they talk at night in the storm and
    salt, the wind and the war.

They have counted the miles to the Sun
    and Canopus; they have weighed a small
    blue star that comes in the southeast
    corner of the sky on a foretold errand.

We shall search the sea again.
We shall search the stars again.
There are no bars across the way.
There is no end to the plan and the clue,
    the hunt and the thirst.
The motors are drumming, the leather leggings
    and the leather coats wait:
                        Under the sea
                        and out to the stars
                        we go.
The whirlpool, it spins,
while the mountain, it twists.
As two serpents entwined,
are surrounding this.
Some had once claimed,
that it started as a bear,
others claimed it began at Canopus,
way over, down there.
Multi-headed or spring of rocks,
cavern, mountain or egg,
a great wheel forever-turning,
with a circus and a one leg!
Pushed along by two giants,
grinding up salt with its gear,
thus responsible for the seasons,
floods and movements and the year.
Two horns of the monster,
but not found on its head,
the Earthen plane a giant treasure,
where Drakon made his bed,
with two stars on his brow,
like the two in his eyes,
the porthole of the ship,
a flying horse in disguise.
Scylla, Charybdis,
Jason, Argos, Deucalion,
Ziusdra, Manu, Noah,
-and the two birds who carry on,
and the mountain from below,
which they all rested upon.
Ameleth or Kullervo,
…and brother Utamo’s great wrong,
…and the whirlpool from above that created this song!

And the evil found inside us, the Id and its kin, will nurture the abused child and continue the sin. The great black wheel of madness, as always, will spin, churning out more abusers to fill the Hell that we’re in. When, where or how did the wheel of blackness start? Corrupting the love and joy into the evil in man’s heart and turning family into tragedy and tearing them apart? Next time you feel weak and let the succubus inside, just remember all those in Hell and the reasons they died.
Astrology and ancient magic are a belief in the powers of celestial movements over the lives of men. This piece contains cosmogonical elements from Norse, German, Roman, Greek, Mesopotamian, Persian and Hindu.
cee May 2018
somewhere,
in a dissimilar world,
you love me so much
that my air becomes yours
your hand quivers when you're holding mine, showing how afraid you are to lose your grip of it

your everyday decisions are made for my convenience,
your "i love yous" are inserted in long paragraphs of your messages,
and your actions show what you're shy to admit

somewhere,
maybe in a different time,
your love is overflowing,
your eyes are so focused on me
that your gaze proves how much you want what you see

your consistency is what keeps us alive
your promises are beautifully made and done
and your unwavering acts of love
are my own kind of guarantee
crackedheart Oct 2015
"I think we're stars that lost our brightness,"

"But aren't stars the brightest before they die?"

This I tell you, we weren't the brightest
there's Rigel, Canopus and Sirius
we were merely a dot in the sky
never would we be noticed by people's eyes

star light, star bright
I wish I may
I wish I might
have the wish I wish tonight

astronomy was our thing
the moon, the stars
they were our everything
for us, they weren't far

simply because we found them in our hearts
i love the last line ***
He was an ancient warrior from times of old
back in the days when the sun was new
and the stars at night were brilliant blue  
like the canopus star he once knew

Often, he was found rummaging the forest
looking for ther rarest mushrooms
as the eagles flew he counted tree rings    
indenting the roots of ancestry wings  

Then one day, he was reborn again
in an era of squabble filled with wars
silence became an oddity full of slew  
and "The Sacred" a rarity hidden in full view

They tagged him with bipolar with doctorate degree
for this was a world of medicine and mental deficiency
yesterday he howled at the moon and cloaked the stars
today he is a sad man longing for a trip to Mars

He the ancient warrior of days of old
fights the good battle everyday, with tools of old
mistletoe on oak, he held his staff
all the time knowing his time would pass

Written by: Mystic Rose
For a friend who suffers from bipolar

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