"mystics" poems
Goddess of virility suckles me
to ******
Her legs stiffen…
to acute angles.
Toes, ballerina firm
make her
body—
levitate from the bed.
A smile reveals…fangs
the tips of which
are barely…touching
my ear.
The lizard tongue hisses in ecstasy
revealing ancient—spiritual…bliss
mystics could only
speculate of.
Her anaconda legs
wrap—
around my back
as her fingernails
embed into
my spine.
When I yank
Her hair
Her eyes
Scream inside out.
Our bodies—
Swimming in
An ocean of ravenous
Liquids pulsating from our pores.
Sopping hair clings
to our foreheads
we suddenly realize—
A new shape is invented.
We make a sound so primal
inside each other’s mouth
as her jaws snap down
to my neck—
both bodies rigor-mortis stiffen
as the mountains collapse around us
and the sky is ripped open as a tsunami
billows down into a wave of exhaustion.
The wind cradles us,
Back to the earth
We split,
Admiring a new continent
We created.
Our limp bodies—
numb from the velocity and suggestions
resign to the crater
we call a bed.
We smile, simultaneously,
looking past
our brains,
realizing…
in this moment
we, are one.
Jul 23, 2011
Jul 23, 2011 at 7:18 AM UTC
How sweet the name of Cthulhu sounds
In raving mystics' screams!
It drives them mad, enflames their brains,
And troubles all their dreams.
It brings insanity and dread
Into the world of men,
This world which once seemed safe and sane
Shall not make sense again.
We gaze upon thy face more dread
Than any watchful dragon;
And sing the eternal hymn to thee,
Ia ia Cthulhu fhtagn.
Cthulhu! my dead yet sleeping king,
Thy cults shall be restored,
Thy tomb shall rise to air again,
Just, r'lyeh, r'lyeh, Lord.
Weak is our twisted woodland dance
And cold our campfires cursed,
But when the stars shall rise aright,
We shall be eaten first.
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 6:26 PM UTC
a penny is a penny
and i am a monk hawking birth control pills
without any shame or pride
disguised in flamboyant tinfoil.
i am an extra sensitive *** on my daily street corner
turning into a crumb of hunger
staring down a long alleyway and eating the flowers
that grew up in concrete.
there are shadows of jugglers on the wall
jumping into the sun, and i am a burning lampshade.
henry miller is in a wheelchair now
and i am a walrus with a backache
being forced among the proverb writers,
but i'm no prophet because i've seen the bubbling fire
and the swords on the doorway.
i am a lover with a guilty conscience
and i have too much on my mind.
i stole the bread from the riot squad and
i blow out these words from a keyhole,
pounding my fist on a book
while the mystics get drunk with skinny ******
i don't go to birthday parties or funerals
instead i'd like to do something worthwhile
but i am your typical flunky, writing eccentric jokes about rich pimps
while my father lies dead on the hill.
Feb 6, 2012
Feb 6, 2012 at 8:59 AM UTC
On old mainstreet, sits an old café,
Where home-town-grown musicians play.
Sometimes they like to change its name,
But the clientele stay just the same.
When times are tough down in the town,
You know you can’t get the Black Dog down.
Rednecks and faux-necks and used-to-be-loggers,
Crafters and rafters, and activist bloggers,
And poets and hippies and mystics and fools,
And outcasts from the secondary schools,
And gypsies too: you’ll find them here,
Drowning in local, hand-crafted beer.
At night, locals sip organic tea,
And turn up the menagerie
Of lights and mics from another age,
Pieced together to make a stage.
And there, the guitarists waste their breath
Beating the Same. Four. Chords. To. Death.
There are some new lyrics, there and here,
But all of them memories of yester-year:
A year spent in the same **** space,
With others who’ve never left this place.
They sing of their dear loves and pasts,
And how much longer the wandering lasts.
And on they wail, and on they moan,
And twang the antique, rustic tone,
But their faces show they like it here,
This breaking haunt of yester-year,
And after the set, they carouse with cheer,
And smile contentedly to their beer.
On old mainstreet sits an old café,
Where home-town-grown musicians play.
Sometimes they like to change its name,
But the clientele stay just the same.
When times are tough down in the town,
You know you can’t get the Black Dog down.
Sep 13, 2012
Sep 13, 2012 at 3:17 AM UTC
Travelling on the mystics road
I felt the energy decsending from the sky
Dont know where i must go
I just kept following the light
The stars were bright
The moon was clear
I knew this trip had to do with my destiny
Then i came to this river and i felt it whisper.
It said : walk away from all the lies if you'd like to continue your life
You've been fooled for so long it attracted you away from home
Theres so much stuff you've got to understand
Just make and follow the plan
They called you weird
They called you dumb
But in all the hands runs the same blood
Trust what you feel and leave the fake friends behind.
Walk into a straighter line.
Im the river of wisdom
Trust what i say
Come take a sip of me and from the sins stay away.
I approched slowly and drank from it
Fast i took the hint
What to do was clear to me
So i decided to come back home
Travelling the mystical road
Words of Harfouchism.
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 11:20 AM UTC
Fire flies are in the air,
Like nature lights with it's flare.
As if fire dissipate embers in the air,
Tranced by short blazing from the stare.
Reflection of Mother Nature's care,
And mystical fire flies soft glare.
These are the nights I shall share,
If you are so inclined by my dare.
You can be my equal pair,
And I'll share with you these flying embers in the nightly breeze air.
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
cracked nose &
watching moose beside the river,
on video,
he cocoons himself
in room and drug elementals.
boy pupa.
boy biking thru fog
& urban light.
city mystics, city-wet faces.
primates.
he works the grill and grins
in back. lollipop jar.
he pours grease into trap or teeth of great beast.
bucket cathedral.
corpse of bird,
decomposing in the alleyway ravine.
he packs luggage for the exodus
to northern california.
wicker owl
burning in the woods on a solstice
drunk, or moon.
the fire & the girl & his tongue to her neck.
bathe;
drain the dirt and blood of weekend off
to porcelain.
combed hair.
to appear in the lawn of withered fruit.
he wheels his father to the zoo. the old man
is bent beneath a blanket and tapping his fingers
for elephants.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 3:01 AM UTC
For The Strange One,
Who can see the clouds in perfect formation,
Who move in waves of vibration...
They are the mystics at moonlight,
The tear-stained darkest night,
The waxing moon Vs. first sun-light.
we are the ones
They are the ones who's secrets you’ll die to keep,
deep inside, while others sleep.
They are the originals: darkened-minds, but genuine in love; true & kind.
They can strike you with a smirk and glance.
Or, fool you with a silly dance.
They will lure you with the birdsong's that they sing.
Or creep into your sleep,
To plant infinite kisses to seed through-out your dream.
Wide Awake You/Realize Her Mysteries Will Take You/
To A Whole New View
We swim for you, Oiseau
through the sound waves you drew
Sails Beckoning…
A Whole New Sea
Awakening.
In Me.
Yearning For You, My Oiseau
And The Sound Waves Needed To Lead Me Safely To:
A Light-House Of Love,
Discovered Beyond The Mist & Trees.
A Place For We;
Upon Land & Sea.
Shinning On, Ever-Lasting, Eternally
…My love, I've come to finally fly away with thee.
Love Always,
Your Siren Lost @ Sea
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Written By:
Danyle McGuire
Inspired By:
Strange affinities/dreams
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 4:28 PM UTC
Mystics meditate
raising the vibration
of Earth.
Mortals fear
what is unclear
and fight
for a dying creed.
Angels whisper
Devils scream
as we slowly awaken
from this dream
into the age
of Enlightenment.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 10:11 AM UTC
Let me lead you
unto the darkness of the flesh
like a master potters gift
mould from base clay
into something beautiful.
Stand among the giants of creation
touch the diamond studded starlight
just out of yonder reach.
Lay with the embrace of golden rainbows
caressing stolen mystics
as love draws her ripe breath
clinging to the curved and ample *****
of moist and salacious longing.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 8:33 PM UTC
Marvel at the mystics
with bent backs
hawking wares in the courtyard
word of gods on fire
in the electric
Razorback armies of onlooking lepers
leap forth at the call of the mystics
calming martyrdom
Marvel at the mystics
who cash checks and built steps
up to the attic of mental harmony
Marvel
as they make money hand over
fist off of your faith.
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 12:26 PM UTC
***Sickening waters– waves and the ocean
Seep it cold, body in motion. Breathe
No. Majestic, mystics of deep blue abyss.
Unraveled, riveting.***
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 9:54 PM UTC
To say the least, I am lost and confused. Lost and confused in a city that is changing. A city that is growing. And I know it is, because I can feel it is.
Some days, sometimes even several times within the same day, I want to be at the center of the action. I want to be plugged into the social pipeline. A pipeline that leads straight from and directly to the gutter.
I think I just want fun. I know I want meaning. I think I know I want camaraderie. Friendship. Love?
At some points, I feel like all of this is pointless. It drags me down and creates a groove in which I neither fight to get out of, nor have to fight to continue on in. It's resistless and easy. It's not warm or cozy, but it becomes familiar and what's to be expected.
The lines between reality and imagination are ever-increasingly blurred to me. I do not know whether these people are pretending, or trying to hide, or pretending to try and hide who they are appearing to be. Are these walls really rotting and peeling or was it painted like this to look grunge?
I can no longer determine, cliche as it may be, if art imitates reality or vice versa. Is the music these people play directly resulting from and representative of them and their lives, or are they pursuing a highly regarded, in the hep world, a less fortunate and haggard lifestyle or "scene"?
Is the music and its energy a force, a presence, a power, an entity of its own? Inhabiting the body, possessing the mind, and flowing forth from the mouth of those without an identity of their own?
I don't know who I am. I know who I am to myself, as when I'm alone. But I do not know who I am to be or who I am to others. I have always found myself being drawn to mystics, magic, and power. But this is dangerous, weird, odd, foreign stuff. This is not stuff to be dealt with lightly nor to be done out in the light. It is shameful and secret and dark.
I am afraid. I am afraid of myself. I am afraid of the power I may possess, and I am afraid of the power that may possess me.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 6:06 PM UTC
Your physical contact makes a mystical impact
And your eye contact leaves me barely intact
So when I see your indifference I want to attack
The emotions my brain has foolishly stacked
But new information enters
Around you it's centered
To you I'm indentured
Mysticism is endured
On the end of your lure
There is no magical cure
For the thoughts you deem impure
So you drag me through the water
Morphing me into your unwilling otter
I'm pushed beneath the surface in your wake
I'm trapped in the penitentiary of your lake
By the spells I'm bound
In the hell I've found
Where my mind is a barbaric battlefield
Those I'm attracted to hide behind a shield
Those attracted to me I've buried in the sand
In between the two lies no man's land
Where a wandering mystic travels
I live in fear of his arcane gavel
That judges all things
Dematerializing kings
He searches for someone to elude
His magic bubble blocks the crude
Yet I'm magnetized to the magician
Who holds the key to my ignition
And although I'm just a misfit
I traverse toward mystics
Sep 30, 2017
Sep 30, 2017 at 6:58 AM UTC
I think you’ll see
life’s getting scary
there’s someone out there
who knows everything about me
See, everywhere in my emails
there’s some tortoise-shell reading
of my inner desires, needs and personality
Today for example
I’ve got several magic readings
several secret readings
Let's start with the first:
*Meet **** women in your neighbourhood* -
Oh my God, how did they know
I was thinking of my neighbour’s wife?
Make $4000 per week - work at home!
Oh my Dear Stars! How did they know?
Though with this of course I can combine
my need to meet all the **** women in my neighbourhood
while I’m making $4000 online
O it’s all so easy, see -
but scary
And it gets scarier with these mystics reading
my needs and wants
Grow an extra inch!
Oh! Oh! How do they know? How do they know?
Erectile problems? We’ve got the pills!
OK , listen guys - my wife has been talking
hasn’t she?
*Best Buy ****** Generic Online - ****** 100mgX60 Pills $125*
OK...my wife has certainly been talking! That precision exposes her!
And comes more:
Stop Snoring Tonight - Guaranteed!
Party on all night with our wonder pills...
Dental plans - Oh God! Defend me from these mind-readers!
They even know I’m losing my teeth and need dentures!
Is nothing sacred any more?
And there’s another one
and now it gets even scarier
cos they tell me things I didn’t know about myself:
Put on this bra and see your man rise to the occasion!
But Oh ye Aliens who observe all things human -
I always thought I was the man!
But maybe I never knew I am a woman actually?
for they keep coming:
Bras of all styles, types and sizes just for your body!
Dear God! Heavens!
Why have you done this to me?
Why do you create me as man, run a male program for over 5 decades
and then bring in these soothsayers
to break the harsh truth in a gentle way:
I am a woman - and needing more bras!
And one more:
Ladies, look 20 years younger with LifeCell!
I’m finished! I’m zilch!
I'm a woman and I'm getting old!
The magic weavers have found me out
the truth even I had not known...
Do you suffer from depression?
Yes! Yes! Oh - not before, but now yes! Yes!
The Scientific Breakthrough is here!
Oh, the devils know me! The devils are out to get me!
and so gentle reader
be you aware
the demons are out there
and lest you laugh at me
they may already have started work on you
they know every thought and wish and desire in your heart;
and if you don’t believe me - just check your emails - if you dare...
for I think you’ll agree
life’s getting scary
there’s someone out there
who knows innermost secrets
everything about you and me
Oct 28, 2011
Oct 28, 2011 at 8:56 PM UTC
Spirits, sages, mystics and wizards
shamans and charmers
voodoo, hoodoo...wanga and juju
and..
old old women- those teller of tales
weavers of dreams....casters of spells
Warnings of darkness and deepness
conjuring clues or readings
from spangled stars on black nights
Guidance on this spiritual journey... this mystical quest
Sunrise into sunset... dark into night
Answers to questions you never asked
Questions to answers
long buried in self shrouded past
There are those who would lead you
to dark alleys astray
Those who would steal your hearts diamonds,
your trust.. and betray
You hear whispers and rumors
strange tongues, and hushed voices... muffled sighs
You search for everything and nothing in the shadowy mist
What are true truths... what are lies?
Keep your eyes open..receive the whole
and know..
That real truth is sometimes
in the unexpected, the untold, the unwritten, the uncharted....
Like..
in the moment of exhale from one true kiss!
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 6:30 PM UTC
My ribbons are tattered and torn,
My hair is in a tangle,
My eyes they stare a thousand miles
My chest is a ball of brambles.
Here in the hell between
I meet The devil and the deep blue sea.
I swallow hard to clear the thorns
A ****** Metallic taste is rising,
And from my mouth, a crimson tear
Adoring and despising.
The devil with his uneasy eyes,
The deep blue sea's unsung surprise.
It's fight or flight, sink or swim
And so I let the games begin.
The jury nod, the death knell rings,
I gaze into the cold abyss.
My sentence called, the words unclear
And in a foreign language.
Circles I can't leave,
They'll Drown me as I weep
I'll Sleep forever sleep
Take me to the deep.
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 9:35 AM UTC
I shalt not fall in love with the hand of one god
For many oversee my world.
Nor listen to the lies that dance off your tongue
In a way so distant and curled.
See I live in a way so peaceful and kind
As these spirits around me say.
For seeing through the eyes of one powerful man
Is like selling my soul to the grave.
Your love-
Your captain-
Your savior of beast-
Although whoever betrays him is of ways-
Of crafts and horrid slurs to keep
Me locked in with devilish dismays.
The fate that lies if I do not drift
In love with the hand of your kind.
Of a man that promises all and hell
If I don't sync with the ways of his mind.
So go on and tell me the ways I should see
Although I feel it deep in my heart.
For if I succumb to the ways of your world
My life will diminish and fall apart.
Surrender my soul for one who sees all as sin?
I'd rather vanish into the depths-
Of whirl winds and tragic mystics that spin
Down the treacherous dismays of man.
So go on and tell me the things I should feel
Just because you were brought up that way.
For it doesn't mean I shall appeal to his eyes
For mine turned opaquely to grey.
If hell is what I'm given for my love
Of many spirits and gods-
Then let this reign of "darkness" devoir
My body-
My heart-
And my mind.
Alysia Marie 2015 ©
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 2:38 PM UTC
I saw it twinkling in the night, so I reached up towards the sky. I wanted so badly to catch it in my hands, but the universe wouldn't yet comply.
I thought of words that made my heart skip, but none more then the ones you said. Stars so brightly circle me, possibilities fill my pretty head.
Scattered about so endlessly, astrology beyond what I can see. If I catch this shooting star, maybe fate will leave us be.
It passes by a moon we share, that casts an eerie glow. Mystics relics can't reveal, something our hearts already know.
I close my eyes and catch that star, plucked it from the night. Now I Kneel on bended knee, wishing with all my might.
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 10:51 PM UTC
Salt rocks and lollipops
Gemstones and Zen
Spellbinding wizards
and dragons that eat men
Lightworkers and Indigos
Heart chakra crown
Don’t block kundalini
you’ll surely break down
With Ohm in the house
like it or not
Theta beats Beta
No judgement or thought
Malas and Mantras
to the Seat of the Soul
dissecting wavelengths
to uncover the whole
Ankhs and crosses
With fire and white light
Circle of crystals
bring spirit into sight
Mystics & healers
heed the cosmic call
extend love to our planet
to save us all
Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 12:46 AM UTC
By Blue Hour Magazine
I looked for her on the rooftops of Brooklyn,
the makeshift balconies of Manhattan,
and the subway in between.
On the mountaintops of Spain,
the ***** pubs of Dublin,
and every European train.
On southern country roads,
and the foothills of Tennessee,
and a lake house preserving childhood dreams.
In the classrooms of philosophers and mystics,
the offices of scholars,
and the garden of a Buddhist.
In a home painted yellow,
behind an ill-fitting apron,
and white picket fence.
In the cramped apartments of men who wrote,
and drank,
and beneath the sheets of those who understood.
On the folded pages of library books,
the texture of painted canvas,
and the sound of piano keys.
I looked for her through my bedroom window,
barefoot and hardly clothed,
not lonely, but alone.
I looked for her,
and did not find her,
but instead, created her.
Jan 9, 2013
Jan 9, 2013 at 11:18 PM UTC
When I read about the brachial plexus,
a spaghetti junction of nerves webbed
behind the clavicle, I am d i s t a n t
half awake and dreaming about lovers
caught up in the mystics of medulla,
gingerly pinching the tendons and
sinewy muscle--
I consider the thick arteries (perhaps not
so thick) (not like other trunks, cords and
red threads) and how easily I could die,
how swollen 'tunnels' and blocked interstate
highways seem not so far fetched according to
medical terminology and the number of things
that could go wrong ( will ) as Murphy warned.
yet here I am, alive and well, a celestial giant
housing stars and all a manner of great, lumbering
structures, pith, and blood.
Feb 11, 2016
Feb 11, 2016 at 8:39 PM UTC
I think you’ll see
life’s getting scary
there’s someone out there
who knows everything about me
See, everywhere in my emails
there’s some tortoise-shell reading
of my inner desires, needs and personality
Today for example
I’ve got several magic readings
several secret readings
Let's start with the first:
*Meet **** women in your neighbourhood* -
Oh my God, how did they know
I was thinking of my neighbour’s wife?
Make $4000 per week - work at home!
Oh my Dear Stars! How did they know?
Though with this of course I can combine
my need to meet all the **** women in my neighbourhood
while I’m making $4000 online
O it’s all so easy, see -
but scary
And it gets scarier with these mystics reading
my needs and wants
Grow an extra inch!
Oh! Oh! How do they know? How do they know?
Erectile problems? We’ve got the pills!
OK , listen guys - my wife has been talking
hasn’t she?
*Best Buy ****** Generic Online - ****** 100mgX60 Pills $125*
OK...my wife has certainly been talking! That precision exposes her!
And comes more:
Stop Snoring Tonight - Guaranteed!
Party on all night with our wonder pills...
Dental plans - Oh God! Defend me from these mind-readers!
They even know I’m losing my teeth and need dentures!
Is nothing sacred any more?
And there’s another one
and now it gets even scarier
cos they tell me things I didn’t know about myself:
Put on this bra and see your man rise to the occasion!
But Oh ye Aliens who observe all things human -
I always thought I was the man!
But maybe I never knew I am a woman actually?
for they keep coming:
Bras of all styles, types and sizes just for your body!
Dear God! Heavens!
Why have you done this to me?
Why do you create me as man, run a male program for over 5 decades
and then bring in these soothsayers
to break the harsh truth in a gentle way:
I am a woman - and needing more bras!
And one more:
Ladies, look 20 years younger with LifeCell!
I’m finished! I’m zilch!
I'm a woman and I'm getting old!
The magic weavers have found me out
the truth even I had not known...
Do you suffer from depression?
Yes! Yes! Oh - not before, but now yes! Yes!
The Scientific Breakthrough is here!
Oh, the devils know me! The devils are out to get me!
and so gentle reader
be you aware
the demons are out there
and lest you laugh at me
they may already have started work on you
they know every thought and wish and desire in your heart;
and if you don’t believe me - just check your emails - if you dare...
for I think you’ll agree
life’s getting scary
there’s someone out there
who knows innermost secrets
everything about you and me
Oct 28, 2011
Oct 28, 2011 at 8:56 PM UTC
*Expression is important.
There are times when you want to scream your heart out and paint the walls with what's building inside your brain.
The aggressive, blunt and killer feelings just reside inside and somehow you want to spill them out.
Surrounded by suffocating truths , lies and millions of mixed emotions , humans tend to collapse.
Expressing ,not only in darkest of emotions but also in the most colorful of moments , is essential.
To disencumber the heart from feelings and emotions that sink it , we express.
Way outs can be simple and they can be labyrinthine.
Screams , music,words, art and what not. Our world is surrounded by these expressions.
Every thing that touches us and relates to us, is someone's expression .
Expressions give rise to heartening forms of art and mystics of world. We are surrounded by such things , that way we are part of everyone's life. That's how we are all connected.
Is it not curious, how world so big seems so familiar when we are introduced and when we understand the hidden meanings of it?
I believe , this whole world is just
an expression of God's mind.*
©asim.javid
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 2:41 AM UTC
and the whisper clapped.
the whisper clapped to
dawns arrival.
the whisper clapped
to dusks departure.
the whisper clapped
to the arrival of sound
waves laughing like angry
distances in mad consort,
as if schizophrenics heard
words spoken millions of
years ago on far off planets
long since devoured by
exploding supernovas,
the sound waves only
reaching us now in the
same way we see ancient
stars, long since having
devoured the speaking
races in the inevitable
movement of cosmic
breath.
and the whisper wondered;
what was the last word
spoken by
God?
you wouldn't know.
Every Testament was
heard and written by a
solitary schizophrenic
of long past, seen as
holy mystics speaking
the language of heaven.
Now these mystics are
madmen shooting ******
in rainy, grey alleyways.
God died long ago and his
last whisper was heard
within the confines of a
mental asylum just outside
of São Paulo, Brazil. We
weren't paying attention.
We missed the Last
Testament.
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 7:58 AM UTC