"magnus" poems
Main and master goal
I stand in gaze
In a gaze that admires you
I stand in amaze
And wonder
And wonder why all these thoughts ponder
Why these thoughts take priority above all other
These thoughts of you
That has lit a liquid-oxygen combusted fire
And now I stand trapped
Trapped in this legitimate feeling of attraction
My concentration depleted
My heart weeps
Weeps for the dungeon I've fallen in
My heart weeps
It weeps like a waterfall
Tears that keep running down the face of my heart
Your voice that resonates in my soul
Like a viral infection that has pierced my heart
Your beauty has undressed these naked eyes
Now
The only thought I have is you
My heart has changed its pattern into...
Into a pattern that spells your Name
I close my eyes and echoed images live in the darkness of these shut eyes
Your voice has broken the silence in me
For I have savored it
You relentlessly entered my heart
Engraved your name on it
Slowly I'm tearing in the inside
I'm going insane
Pain, no!
Affectionate attraction, Yes!
A weeping heart I have
A weeping heart that is manifesting it all
As in my manifestation
I ought to be the leader of the nation inside me
The creator of my inner creation
Forgotten about the future
I live in the past of your creation
For all that entirely matters in the near future is:
My main and master mission
In vision with my main and master goal
Past the sleepless nights' tension
Past the deception of animations artificiality and into all reality
Past my minds permission; it's approval
Exceeding my potential but placing me in that position
Disregarding all competition
I stand and watch in 3rd person perspective
My heart has risen like dust
Even though it's dark my shadow has betrayed me; your smile shines through like lights rays
The visible weeping heart is translucent
My thoughts have become wishes
Wishes exceeding my boundaries of limits
Because my mission and master goal is for you to be mine...
By: Magnus Master Robinson
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 10:08 AM UTC
I
I SAW a staring ****** stand
Where holy Dionysus died,
And tear the heart out of his side.
And lay the heart upon her hand
And bear that beating heart away;
Of Magnus Annus at the spring,
As though God's death were but a play.
Another Troy must rise and set,
Another lineage feed the crow,
Another Argo's painted prow
Drive to a flashier bauble yet.
The Roman Empire stood appalled:
It dropped the reins of peace and war
When that fierce ****** and her Star
Out of the fabulous darkness called.
In pity for man's darkening thought
He walked that room and issued thence
In Galilean turbulence;
The Babylonian starlight brought
A fabulous, formless darkness in;
Odour of blood when Christ was slain
Made all platonic tolerance vain
And vain all Doric discipline.
Everything that man esteems
Endures a moment or a day.
Love's pleasure drives his love away,
The painter's brush consumes his dreams;
The herald's cry, the soldier's tread
Exhaust his glory and his might:
Whatever flames upon the night
Man's own resinous heart has fed.
2k
I
I saw a staring ****** stand
Where holy Dionysus died,
And tear the heart out of his side.
And lay the heart upon her hand
And bear that beating heart away;
Of Magnus Annus at the spring,
As though God's death were but a play.
Another Troy must rise and set,
Another lineage feed the crow,
Another Argo's painted prow
Drive to a flashier bauble yet.
The Roman Empire stood appalled:
It dropped the reins of peace and war
When that fierce ****** and her Star
Out of the fabulous darkness called.
II
In pity for man's darkening thought
He walked that room and issued thence
In Galilean turbulence;
The Babylonian starlight brought
A fabulous, formless darkness in;
Odour of blood when Christ was slain
Made all platonic tolerance vain
And vain all Doric discipline.
Everything that man esteems
Endures a moment or a day.
Love's pleasure drives his love away,
The painter's brush consumes his dreams;
The herald's cry, the soldier's tread
Exhaust his glory and his might:
Whatever flames upon the night
Man's own resinous heart has fed.
1.5k
He found her hiding
In the cities cowers
And thought to befriend her
By offering a carrot
She wouldn’t take it
But she couldn’t leave it
Her eyes
Droopy half moons
Darting between him
And his offering
*The Scylla
And the Charybdis*
Knowing that if
She didn't starve to death
This fox would eat her.
But the fox was a Magnus
He knew her pain
*A Pea - hard as tuppence ha'penny
Under twenty mattresses*
And appealed to her sensitivity.
He too had been alone
- His rhombic truths
And scared
- A slant on the straight and narrow
And when it was time to leave
He asked her to dine with him
In his burrow.
But still she hesitated
So he scuttled away
Leaving her to follow
And apologize
For having vexed him so.
*If he had wanted to **** her
He would have done so already*
And she was very hungry.
So they talked of books
*Peter Rabbit
And the Velveteen Rabbit*
As he sharpened his knives
To dice potatoes
And chop carrots.
They were going to have
A German dish
-Hasenpfeffer.
-What does that mean
She asked
Sniffing the broth.
- Rabbit stew
He whispered.
And then he bit her
Hard
And held her
Until she stopped struggling.
He really did love rabbit.
Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 3:44 PM UTC
Chaining the muse to his glass desk.
The poet can write
with ease.
Deft fingers un-stitch
antique silver;
Twinning his soul...
Letting passion
ignite,
as essence flows
on reeds
*[magnus
opus]*
which bloom,
in each wound
laid bare;
As whispers
escape
her shade.
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 8:30 AM UTC
Only felt a moment,
a moment in a dream.
Suckling neuro pollen
The solstace of this minute
The magnus mental stream.
I found the new oasis
I saw the new serine
I found the new oasis
I saw her in a dream
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 3:06 AM UTC
Where the tides of Magnus swell
And his thundering roars beat lightning to hell.
We've been living in a maze.
We've been digging up our graves.
We've been throwing up our brains,
Yet these quakes will still go on.
Sickles and hammers
And tall corporate buildings, portly businessmen.
The windows and towers they will smash because of the beast inside their heads.
Black and white
Good and evil
Are there two sides? Four, eight? Or are there billions of coloured pixels;
Each twinkling their own ideologies.
But once they blend, like watercolours,
The wars commence and their crimes they won't repent.
Our conditioned brains
Entertained by an electronic screen, or perhaps a print of lies on paper.
And we will curse, wail or put other opinions on bail.
Will we live a life of sepia, of black and white?
Or will we respect all sides of that rubix cube which becomes ever more difficult to solve.
The algorithms twist, intertwine, sever
But there is not one single lever- we can pull
to save our bleeding earth.
The quakes will go on
We will not have a break from them.
We are veterans of psychological corruption;
And our armour and weapons are destroyed.
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 10:39 AM UTC
Magnus sat in the ship
reciting psalms
arrows flying about
Magnus shipmates
thought Magnus
mad
Magnus stated he had no quarrel
And years later on the Orkneys
Magnus bowed his head
to his
Master of Peace.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 8:46 PM UTC
Fluffy for what you are we wait
And we’ll wait for you need not come with haste
Now but a bump to hide mummy’s toes
Yet you’re more than that Fluffy
Inside much more of you grows
A whole little person
Little boy or a girl
That we don’t really need to know
So long as you’re safe and sound
And Mummy’s face still glows
We trust you Fluffy
You’ll come with hands, feet and toes
It’ll all just be smaller
From your knees to your nose
Little learnt lungs and happy heart we hope
We’re sure when you come it’ll all be just so
You’ve had the time to get it right it right
As this started some nine months ago
So we’ve waited until you push and kick
And now you can begin your fight
Because little Fluffy the time has come
In fact it’s late Mummy feels your hics
But now you’re here oh so quick
So hello there little man
Welcome to the world
You’ve joined us in our land
And came perfect-
Face, feets and hands
So hello little man
Our little Magnus
You’re Fluffy no more
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 9:05 AM UTC
I am who you are
I know... Or maybe I don't
But atleast my thoughts
Have a spark of knowledge and experience
My words are never intended to hurt they only wish to heal
And tonight
With your somber and delightful heart
I pray that my presence in your life: Blesses you
I pray that your presence Blesses us
Greatness and patience is a attribute God perched in your life
And relentlessly I'm going to be your beacon of light
For you I have cherished
I'm just a Christian sod
That wishes neither ever for hurt, sorrow nor for anything odd
But you Greg
Are a different book in this life
Trying to use words to describe you...
Would be Blasphemous
I have come about that platonic friendship
And reached the life long stage of friendship, hardship and joy
In amid who I am is who you are
But who you are, I am
By: Master Magnus Robinson
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 3:10 AM UTC
Weakness
My hallways are flooded.
My pools leads straight into the earths crust.
I have a reindeer, his name?
Magnus
Keeper of perspective, keeper of my most tender emotions
I sink into myself, understanding the functionalities of this metaphorical thing I have created.
A God in the realm of my subconscious
Magnus, I hope this temple will hold.
Magnus, someday I'll **** you.
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
16th April
Feast of St Magnus
Earl of Orkney
Martyred
Saint of our Isles
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
Jillian Thyssen Neanderthal
Was short among women:
Only five feet tall.
Magnus *** Loudest
Liked her pheromones:
He picked up this beauty on the way back.......to his cave.
Those crazy **** Erecti were never any good at poetry!!
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 9:29 PM UTC
We have St Magnus here, Viking Earl, martyred for his faith,
to watch over this archipelago, listen to our prayers, asking his intervention, his word in the ear of God. God who looks favourably on his saints, those in heaven, and those still on their way.
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 8:05 AM UTC
O Patricius Magnus! Patrick, bold apostle
Who ran courageous back towards slavery’s chains
Unwilling to disappoint your Master, rather
Seeking, striving, with great sorrows and countless pains
To see a new song sung unto Him in a strange
Land, to offer Him a sacrifice pure, a gift
New and unblemished. You won the victory and
Did the bless’d Cross in the Emerald Isle uplift!
Behold, O Christ, timpan and feadan together
Raise a hymn of joy to Thee; see, bagpipe and horn
Sound Thy glory echoing through valleys and fields
Where once druidic festival laughed and poured scorn
Upon the Gospel! Behold! A people once wrapped
In pagan ways now wrapt in monk’s habit with chant
Gregorian offer praise to Thy name, and tribes
Once lost shall ne’er the apostolic creed recant!
See Thy brave Apostle, clover-armed, advances
Fruitful at the head of a mighty, saintly throng,
Together with fair Brigid, Thy bride, and countless
Woolen-mantled saints who to Thee alone belong!
Receive, O Christ, from Patrick Thy ****** Ireland
While her children dance for Thee a jig, and they sing
Psalms of faeries and hedgehogs and badgers to make
The Kingdom of Heaven with Irish magic ring!
Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 10:52 PM UTC
St Magnus I thankyou
and ultimately God.
This your feast day
will indeed be feast.
Pizza chips
Wine and beer
all unexpected
Gifts.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC
Tonight's the night i die
without circumstance, without center
i stand alone, dancing, bleeding.
Freckles in bloom, i resume my disorder
What keeps me Magnus?
Eyes, points of black flame
Brown, underneath the blackened hair.
Lips, like gorgeous labellum
Sunflower, my mind escapes into a sunset ether
The window to my fire escape is open
And i can't help but think of you.
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 8:47 PM UTC
Magnus honor, magna gloria
Te adamare, omnia creata
judicare transitoria.
Felix anima ac beata
quae de mundo se ipsa cavet
et solatia sola habet
in Te, Redemptor peccata.
Rex caelestis, Vir doloris,
benedictus sis, quia estis
*** Maria fonte amoris...
Vir doloris, Rex caelestis.
411
Tomorrow would be the Feast Of St Magnus, Viking Earl Of Orkney, martyred in the eleventh century, his bones sealed up in one of the pillars of the Cathedral bearing his name.
He is very special to me and I ask his intervention daily, answers have come in the most unexpected of ways.
Tomorrow being the celebration of Easter, of course St Magnus takes a back seat so to speak. But if anyone reading this has a mind to ask intercession of Saints, I commend St Magnus to you.
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 2:12 PM UTC
I have only my mind's sight to create words that could be carried by winds and air
No sleep induced by nectar, no thick plants grown after a midnights rain
The green and blue of breads do not belong to me
I keep the edges of cliffs sharp in my eye’s lair
For voices sing to me and me myself of flames under my skin
Their muse being the thick plants, their instruments the nectar and their breath of my demise the greens and blues
From the drum in a barrel comes the red that looks blue under the light and heats the tendons of what could be a metal giant
Under the helm, these voices dance in their prison, throwing bolts of lightning, igniting horrors only seen in darkness
From whence these calls came is unknown to the drones clad in blue green and white
I have only these calls to create words
My metal body holds strings of hellfire, leaking lava onto the Yggdrasil of white and touch
This lava turns bees to hornets that sting the branches in which they live when the sky turns to a kiln
Rivers that fall from the ceiling cannot soothe the hornets wrath.
I reach for the celestial lights, my metal hands crude, my fingers outreached. My metal hands. My metal body
That drum aches for a time when it was more than a beat. When it felt more than the emptiness
When it beat with the sound of laughter
I wade through galaxies of blue and green. My hands glide through the stars, feeling the life of each lifeless planet
My legs brush against the serpents of the nebula, baring their teeth, they pierce my metal legs with with fangs of supernovae
Their bright venom fills my body with light that soon becomes black and is ****** into the void of the drum
When I lay my head and close my eyes, nymphs speak to me in voices that leave when I realize them
I keep their messages in my head, unable to discern their warnings from the life inside of my mind
When I wake, I hear them, I remember their distant messages and say them to the rivers of green in the sky, with beds of bright stars
Sending them back to where they came from, telling the nymphs that because I am a metal giant
Does not mean I am not from their same earth
We all swallow our sins
I am no exception
I may be of this mother but I have taken the highest stairway, to the outside, only to see it's slopes flatten and others, reach past the clouds
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC
o domine
*** in miratione
quae opera fecisti censeam
conspicio
montes et tempestates
potentiam divinam ubique
tum anima te laudat carmine
quam magnus es! quam magnus es!
tum anima te laudat carmine
quam magnus es! quam magnus es!
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 7:47 PM UTC
Incomer and native,
crowned princes of Orkney arts,
the two communed together
with wind, wave and wilderness.
Their works kindled many hearts
conjured festivals of Island
arts, tragic St. Magnus Opera,
Fairwell to Stromness, poetry,
newsprint and novels.
George Mackay Brown's words,
Peter Maxwell Davies' music,
they left us their works,
left wind, wave and wilderness.
Dec 4, 2019
Dec 4, 2019 at 5:58 AM UTC
Two brothers at arms length, both
earls of Orkney. Internecine
feud, inherited condition
or consequence of tradition.
Magnus sacrificed himself
to Haakon's axe man, saviour
of Orkney from civil war.
The memorial Cathedral of
St. Magnus, built by Earl Ragnvald,
tribute to his uncle's martyrdom
inspires the Bay of Kirkwall.
Within a pillar south of the ***** screen,
above head height and easily missed
was laid a block of lighter stone,
inscribed with a cross that guards the bones
of St. Magnus, focus of the pilgrim's dream.
Jul 31, 2019
Jul 31, 2019 at 6:24 AM UTC