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"fulgurant" poems
atherien [1] Que tu étais vive et jolie sous les flambées très ondulées de ta chevelure rousse, comme un incendie en brousse. Ardente et vive tu étais, à soigner les corps et les maux, de tes malades, un peu tes enfants, dont je crois que tu n’avais pas. Dans ton cabinet de la « rue des soupirs », tu ravissais des vies promises à la Mort hideuse et cruelle qui se vengea de cette offense. Et pourtant ta science et ta passion resteront inoubliées de tes malades et ta photo de la belle naïade continue à nous charmer dans la salle d’attente comme un diamant très pur. Oh, jeune docteur Soleilhavoup Comment se fait il que tu la vie t’ait été ôtée si tôt par l’infâme camarde, hélas, de la vie toujours victorieuse ? vielle blafarde qui hait les médecins comme autant d’obstacles à la malfaisance de sa faux. Paul Arrighi – Toulouse – le 15-11-2008 [1] Ce poème fut commencé le 24 -01-2009, sous le choc et la douleur du décès d’une jeune doctoresse si secourables. Jamais alors je n’imaginais que, ce si jeune femme ait pu partir la première. Son décès fulgurant vient l’injustice et le chaos qui régissent le règne des maladies et l’insolent scandale des jeunes vies écourtées.
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Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC
Elégie au Docteur Catherine Soleilhavoup
"There is an appointed time for everything, / A time for every activity / under the heavens;" / —Ecclesiastes 3: 1 (NWTSE) / A season has departed, / A season has begun, / The Circle of Life continues, / A legacy remains undone. / The gauntlets I have transcended, / Have diamonded my soul; / Therefore, I offer this solemn petition / Knowing the fight remains to be won. / In time, there will be tribulations / But this heart stands adamantine, / These eyes remain dauntless, / My spirit is forevermore unphased. / A time of self- (re) discovery / Has burgeoned anew, / We will all metamorphose / If we look to the future bemused. / Your potentialities are enormous; / Together, we are a fulgurant storm. / Rise, rise, young stalwarts / You are a Spark of The Divine. / The experiential cascade is perpetual, / Incessantly persevere, / May wisdom inhabit each one of us, / May we each forsake not to love. / A chrysalis has unraveled / Diaphanous wings have been borne, / Doubt not inviolable beauty / Always, abides in the light. / (—Se' lah) 07-18-2021
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Jul 18, 2021
Jul 18, 2021 at 4:47 PM UTC
Vicissitudes of Life (XXIX) (Originally written on Sunday, July 18th, 2021)
Where does man, where does woman, where does beast go When slumber dawns upon their fleshly vessel? When the twilit sky bleeds into a stygian veil? When the musicality within begins to take psychosomatic form? I reminisce over the eventuality that stirred my burgeoning. It quaked my lucubrations, my excogitations, intellectualizations; Ye, The Incendiary Phoenix Flame billows within. Rebirth awaits every anima forged by The Apotheosis of The Astral Flame. The doughty firebrand in me shalt nought surrender, The Gaian Warrior within shall ne'er be forgotten, And my reverenc'd doubts  shall be undone. O, whence all incredulities have been uttered The Leadings of Lovelight shall prevail. The Vestige that once ravaged my remembrance shall vanish into The Magisterial Tides of Oblivion, We are all one with the Blood-Tinged Oath, The Fulgent Daystar; He, exhaled eternity into the souls vexed by mortality. Underneath the Sun: There breathes an azure vista. What lieth above our aethereal aegis has incited inquisitiveness aeons aforetime Open your hearts to the cosmic currents, the transcendent torrent, The Communal Oneness of The Primal Phantasmagoric; By that One, For all time we were summoned. Question what lie before to be spirited away.   Listen to the arcadian zephyr whisper               Through in, through out your every breath. Trust, the Sanctity of intuition. Coloring the Changing of The Seasons. The aqueous dew throngs upon virescent leaflets, A fulgurant surge fulminates Upon The Celestial’s bedarkened sky. Red- Shift Existence: evidence, upon which a system of belief expands, under examination Therefore, it is our duty to ponder the Legacy of the Sages That we might unravel the esoteric secrets That function as a key In gainsaying, in overturning The Lock of Fallacy. Finally we gain understanding, we acquire wisdom Altering our cognitive trajectory. What is Life, What is Love, What is Divinity, Without creativity? Without imagination? Without vision? We must all surrender to The Sacral Expressions of Omnibenevolence.
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Jun 27, 2020
Jun 27, 2020 at 6:50 PM UTC
The Gordian Knot (Originally Written on Saturday, June 27th, 2020)
Where does man, where does woman, where does beast go When slumber dawns upon their fleshly vessel? When the twilit sky bleeds into a stygian veil? When the musicality within begins to take psychosomatic form? I reminisce over the eventuality that stirred my burgeoning. It quaked my lucubrations, my excogitations, intellectualizations; Ye, The Incendiary Phoenix Flame billows within. Rebirth awaits every anima forged by The Apotheosis of The Astral Flame. The doughty firebrand in me shalt nought surrender, The Gaian Warrior within shall ne'er be forgotten, And my reverenc'd doubts  shall be undone. O, whence all incredulities have been uttered The Leadings of Lovelight shall prevail. The Vestige that once ravaged my remembrance shall vanish into The Magisterial Tides of Oblivion, We are all one with the Blood-Tinged Oath, The Fulgent Daystar; He, exhaled eternity into the souls vexed by mortality. Underneath the Sun: There breathes an azure vista. What lieth above our aethereal aegis has incited inquisitiveness aeons aforetime Open your hearts to the cosmic currents, the transcendent torrent, The Communal Oneness of The Primal Phantasmagoric; By that One, For all time we were summoned. Question what lie before to be spirited away.   Listen to the arcadian zephyr whisper               Through in, through out your every breath. Trust, the Sanctity of intuition. Coloring the Changing of The Seasons. The aqueous dew throngs upon virescent leaflets, A fulgurant surge fulminates Upon The Celestial’s bedarkened sky. Red- Shift Existence: evidence, upon which a system of belief expands, under examination Therefore, it is our duty to ponder the Legacy of the Sages That we might unravel the esoteric secrets That function as a key In gainsaying, in overturning The Lock of Fallacy. Finally we gain understanding, we acquire wisdom Altering our cognitive trajectory. What is Life, What is Love, What is Divinity, Without creativity? Without imagination? Without vision? We must all surrender to The Sacral Expressions of Omnibenevolence.
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Unheard songs are most beautiful Unseen beauty is most attractive Untold story is most interesting Unshared sorrows are most painful Let me ask if you would like to sing to me the sweet melody? If you would like to let me see the fulgurant beauty? If you would like to let me hear the unheard echoes? If you would like to let me know the meaning of grief? Let me in Open the door Don't be afraid You'll feel better, for sure Because  you  have  got  every  right   to  be  happy Dear,  you  don't  need  to  be  depressed    anymore.
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Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 4:20 PM UTC
Things left unsaid
"By this all will know that you are my disciples, if you have love among yourselves.” (John 13:35) This commandment is The Messianic Dictum. Sometimes I wonder upon how far aloft my flight my zenith may lie. What dost the apex of my pilgrimage bear? We all have a future. Love is the ultimate religion. Why? Because “It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.” (1st Corinthians 13: 7, 8) When we love, we taste eternity upon our palates. Love is the elixir of the soul. When my life is over, I hope to gaze upon the visage of those who I hold dear. I want to know that I’ve made a difference in the lives of those encompassing me. We all carry subjective burdens, subjective blights. This suffering is the commonality of all creation.  Whence we ail together, The Catholicon of Ancients exalts us as one. The Faith of Dreams is a worldwide denomination, within which we need fellowship. The Universe is our temple, our Cathedral of Dreams. Beneath the firmaments, we all have an abode. We are all Sparks of the Divine. Fulgurant lovelight glistens in each one of us. The most bedarkened soul can house a diaphanous blaze of light. In light, there is darkness; moreover, in the night, there can reside light. Dreams can still serve a purpose to the entity inhibited by a worldly lusting. Ultimately, desirelessness is catalyzed by cathexis to the Deifically Divine. We must cleanse ourselves of corporeal desires until we wax holy. “I dream; therefore, I am,” said the sage. If this is true, the substance, the essence, the elixir of life is in upon the Dreamscape. In truth, any temporal expanse spent in The Chrysalis of the Astral is commensurable with augury. A dream is celestial summoning. Therefore, persevere amidst hardship, borne of tribulation is prophetic fulfillment. (Se' lah)
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May 16, 2020
May 16, 2020 at 10:57 AM UTC
The Cathedral of Dreams (Originally penned on Wednesday, April 1st, 2020)
"By this all will know that you are my disciples, if you have love among yourselves.” (John 13:35) This commandment is The Messianic Dictum. Sometimes I wonder upon how far aloft my flight my zenith may lie. What dost the apex of my pilgrimage bear? We all have a future. Love is the ultimate religion. Why? Because “It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.” (1st Corinthians 13: 7, 8) When we love, we taste eternity upon our palates. Love is the elixir of the soul. When my life is over, I hope to gaze upon the visage of those who I hold dear. I want to know that I’ve made a difference in the lives of those encompassing me. We all carry subjective burdens, subjective blights. This suffering is the commonality of all creation.  Whence we ail together, The Catholicon of Ancients exalts us as one. The Faith of Dreams is a worldwide denomination, within which we need fellowship. The Universe is our temple, our Cathedral of Dreams. Beneath the firmaments, we all have an abode. We are all Sparks of the Divine. Fulgurant lovelight glistens in each one of us. The most bedarkened soul can house a diaphanous blaze of light. In light, there is darkness; moreover, in the night, there can reside light. Dreams can still serve a purpose to the entity inhibited by a worldly lusting. Ultimately, desirelessness is catalyzed by cathexis to the Deifically Divine. We must cleanse ourselves of corporeal desires until we wax holy. “I dream; therefore, I am,” said the sage. If this is true, the substance, the essence, the elixir of life is in upon the Dreamscape. In truth, any temporal expanse spent in The Chrysalis of the Astral is commensurable with augury. A dream is celestial summoning. Therefore, persevere amidst hardship, borne of tribulation is prophetic fulfillment. (Se' lah)
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Spirit descends Taking shape From Nirvanic infinitude And is carnally crystallized In an incarnadine Shrine of flesh, Bone and marrow. Let the anima of wisdom Hear the unuttered reverberations That ripple as a shockwave Through this Vast, multidimensional Cosmos And utter The esoteric secrets of existence. A verisimilitude of life Loometh in the irides Of the Gasconading celestial And we Must wax lowly To Wax lofty. Trust that something Interstellar, intergalactic, macrocosmic, multiversal; Fatidic, fathoms all With Omnibenevolence. Ye, this Visage of Creation keeps vigil In the corporeal pulse of plight. Fulgurant perdition is for But an Ephemeral exhalation, Elysium is for eternity; (Therefore) Gaze heavensward Knowing the Holy Dove Shall always Rise and fall. Promises await: A deific covenant Etched in the Slabs of our hearts, (I Hear) The Requiem of Lovelit Life resolved In the Key of the Archean. Spirit rises, Dismantling form And intertwines infinitely All that is, was, and will be; Circular & cycling Forevermore The Cosmo-Plexus of Empyreal Love Sees all. (Se' lah)
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Nov 19, 2019
Nov 19, 2019 at 10:13 PM UTC
Elo'him (Originally penned on Monday, November 11th, 2019)
you, child, are everything. you are hope and love, the hand of death, the tar that swallows species. you are the morning dew that glistens and whispers rumors about the end of the world. you can be anything you want to be! is the lie we’ve all agreed to murmur in your eager, gullible ears because we know, cruelly, you will believe us. clasp your hands, child, in those moments of fulgurant despair when God seems almost real, when He seems to stand over you, all His divine hosts ready to proselytize you in your moments of weakness. clasp your hands, squeeze them tight, fingernails biting into flesh, because sometimes pain is the only certainty, and remember the promise, child: ignore the whiskey-soaked father standing over you with the notched belt; ignore the bleeding bread-crumb trails of dreams left scattered in your wake; ignore the miles-long nights and worries and grudges and the abandoned i-wills and i-swears; ignore the emptiness that swells in your chest until you cry, alone, because yes, you are alone. ignore the ceaseless tide of days where you feel nothing. do not worry, child: these are the side-effects of greatness. you can be anything.
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Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
Promises