La Mer Sep 2014

Creaming leaves, dripping
off her spiderweb branches
as we eat dinner under the mustard sun,
I feel her nervous as I eat slowly, she glances
at my spiderweb branches and grabs my web.
She spins her prey in my web and moves it slowly
down, among her roots, where I feel gnarled and leafless.
My autumn colors have vanished in her winter
frozen stems, frozen in time, I stare into her
mustard reflected eyes.

אל disinherits His kin, and hides the Crown.
אלהים discards His creations, and curses the Snake.
אהיה dispatches His laws, to punish our Power.
יהוה‎ disavows His cruelty, and blames Sin.
אדני disowns His sin, and scapegoats Man.

The Father denies his failure; it is the Child who suffers,
swallowed alive ere the seed becomes mustard.

Semitic/Hebraic names of God are used here to symbolize a patriarchal legacy of buck-passing fascist government, institutional mind control, and mindless, desperate consumerism.

I mean no disrespect to Jews, however disinclined they may be to humor Thelema. I don't suppose I get any brownie points for siding with Babylon. ;)

אל - EL (alef lamed) - ancient Semitic word for God (31)
אלהים - ALHIM (alef lamed heh yod mem) - God or Gods (646)
אהיה - AHIH (alef heh yod heh) - "I AM" (21)
יהוה - IHVH (yod heh vav heh) - "Yahweh" - Tetragrammaton (26)
אדני - ADNI (alef bet nun yod) - Adonai - The Lord or "My Master" (65)
Ria Nagpal Jun 2013







Horseshoe, chips
Lift, miner
Mustard, bellows

Derick Smith Sep 2014

Between her and our
Almighty Beloved,
this mustard seed faith
grows as the willow.

Hannah Jo Jun 2015

Everything is made up of the tiniest particles and if you think about it,
we're not that big compared to a lot of things out there in the universe and
I don't know about you, but sometimes I feel everything crashing down on top of me,
I feel the weight of being such a tiny speck in such a great big world closing in around me and straining my very bones and when you get to the point of lying lifeless on your bedroom floor or screaming and cursing at the moon with every breath stored up in your little lungs, you start to think you could never feel much worse but I'll tell you something: there is something small but great
inside your very core and just a little Faith, it doesn't have to be any bigger than a mustard seed,
well that can go a long way and if you look hard enough, if you really try,
Darling find that God Atom inside of you; I promise you'll get by.

This one is for every little broken heart smashed by someone they looked at like they were a whole world. This is for every boy and girl who feel like they’ll just get hurt if they ever speak an honest word. This is a poem for every loved one of mine who has had one too many hard times. This is for the girls who know what it’s like to be grabbed forcefully and shaken. Who’ve had electric fear forced into their frail little bones, and the flower of their soul taken. This is for the boys who had their hearts stolen in one faraway glance, never to be seen again. This is for the children who crave constantly for parental approval but can’t ever seem to win. And not most importantly, but importantly, this is for me; oh God, help me find my way home again.

A man ate some mustard
Instead of some custard
Without even a frown
He just gulped it down
Saying, “My insides won’t get rusted.”

© Ronald Maxwell Segel 2008
Lenore Lux Jan 2015

There's so much about the way leaves look.
Under light.
Wet with rain.
I seize up.
Of service.
Rush into.
My safe space.
For all I've hardened is just a front.

JT-TJ Mar 2011

Have faith in me, like a mustard seed.
Because your support, is what I need.
Teach me and guide me, and show me the way.
Help me to grow, each and every day.

I know it is hard, to believe in me.
But with your help, I will learn to see.
Give me some food, build me real strong.
With you by my side, we will prove them wrong.

And so we can do it, just you and I.
With some rain in the clouds, and the sun in the sky.
I know if I try, I will succeed.
Because you are the soil, the soil I need.

I know I can grow, so very tall.
With your help, I will never fall.
Have faith in me, like a mustard seed.
Because your support, is what I need.

Jacob Sykes Feb 2013

Mustard gas flutters past
Unseen but effect are felt
Lungs collapse
Crushed with guilt
Or gas
That flutters past
Unseen but effects are felt

Kelly O'Connor May 2013

We all thought he would
Stay here forever, like
So many other lethargic
Sons and daughters of the slough
Who may never have learned what the mustard fields were for.
I escaped early, lucky I
Guess, but never quite let
Go of him, and another year
Gone by, like battered ships we return.

Those eyes are intense and
Hazel in the oncoming
Headlights, buzz-cut
Hair black as the ruins of Haystack Landing.
Once you’re told, you remember what the mustard fields were for.
“I’m different, I mean,” he says,
“Fuck, even at dinner with family. I
Freak out, get paranoid, like I’m
Fighting for my life in the Sonoma hills.”

He sighs, “I know you know,
When I come back from
Where I’m going, seeing you is
What I’ll want the most, but--”
I wonder if he knows what the mustard fields were for.
“I’ll probably be real different,
Probably need a lot of help.”
Passing elevated acres of mustard, we
Pause; he says, “Gotta stop for gas.”

This soldier stands in sharpened
Contrast to this rural, liberal
Community, these Victorian
Cathedrals of a quiet isolation.
They will never tell you what the mustard fields were for.
I wonder then if something about our
Air here makes us want to reach out,
Aspire for our names and badges
Across the expanse of war and peace.

Like the murky waters of the turning basin,
History hides a silent violence.
Hatching, we find ourselves inoculated against
Human strains of moral dystrophy.
I went into the world knowing well what the mustard fields were for.
They’re still here, still growing, those
Slender, musky stalks, golden heads
Sweetly pastoral in their floral bloom,
Soft biochemical carpets in a cultivated sprawl.
I know now, I know damn well what the mustard fields were for.

Larry I Jones Aug 2014

Let's just face it: hai-
kus were invented in Ja-
pan and don't always...


Maybe so I willed
In half sleep’s ethereal stream
In January’s mustard field
She hugged me in liplocked dream!

What now she said eye on eye
I’m come past all fear
So our lips never go dry
Nothing stops us from here!

I put my tongue on hers
Rolled in her saliva filled
Her eyes blinked million stars
Traveling time in the mustard field!

Bloomed yellows thunderous bright
Rained sky a sweet redress
Dream came at end of night
Wept wet in her embrace!

I tiptoed on her bedside
Her lips quivered moist filled

Maybe so she willed

Same dream in the mustard field!

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