"oracles" poems
Olives, figs, dates and mastic, wyrd or oracles, fates and magic, wars and loves and all that’s tragic.
A Father’s lust, an Uncle’s hate, a puzzling labyrinth, through the gate,
A Cretan born, another covered, a starry symbol, placed in the cupboard,
Special place, where heroes meet him, mindless creature, murderous ******
South in winter, man below with a bull above, placed in the heavens by two father's love,
A strangeness here, the seat of trade, in forbidden tryst, a beast was made,
Man of blood, tortured soul, stalks the maze, that stalks the pole,
"Stranger still, this wild pattern, revolving Seventh, Circle of Saturn?"
Unholy corridors made of granites, trace out the movements of the planets!
Life of horror, a soul of pain, terrorizing, with no refrain,
Smells their fear, scents of sin, raging actions, threshing men;
“They call me Moloch! They call me Baal! Tear your body, festoon my hall!”
In trepidation, to gatekeeper sent, a ****** start, for your punishment;
“I collect the hearts, I eat the eyes, I eat the liver, before he dies!”
Olives, figs, dates and mastic, wyrd or oracles, fates and magic, life and death and all that’s tragic.
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 11:48 PM UTC
At least with Solemn Differences sing
Honouring Friends of Great Cheer celebrate
Your arm on her lap; The other on him
And with a Flash these Blue Knights consecrate
Jolly, so Potent turn Tan into Red
That pleasant alarm Blue Oracles see
And guess which Debate your Incarnate fed
Whether you are or whether not to be
Ready for Cause to the Next Big Event
Telling yourself to Inspiration run
Foresaw this Scope: Friendship and Teamwork's meant
But all of this time it was just for Fun.
Seriousness Adore, Someone licks the Tip
In your Patron; Which was really your lip.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 2:23 AM UTC
Eros will never agree with
The way you ****** your *****
To this ****** Screams and
Scratches, moans and murmurs
Of pleasure and pain, devoid of
Reason, embellished with passion.
Seasons of lust and burn, slash
And turn, tides of libido that has
No way to subside. You worship
This body at the altar of pretensions.
Hoping that even the gods through
The oracles, will speak to you in the
Language of mortals, and will bring
You some cataclysmic eruptions of
Heaven and hell. Will is nothing to
You unless confronted by contentment,
And sealed with chastisement.
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 10:01 AM UTC
So many questions in my head about simple religions
are they something God made or just devil envisioned?
Its kind a practical but if I ask I'm demon possessed
**** let me breathe in this cult I manifest.
I'm lead to believe in something I don't understand
I ask with such command am I insane because of this.
They tell you two things opposite from each other
but share the same views like prosperity and salvation.
Telling you to not follow Islamic Ramadan,
Hinduism caste systems or anything that corrupts the mind.
To me its just nothing but simple communism
an oxymoron for morons without a way of living.
Too many days hoping for a message in a source in a enlightened force instead of letting nature take its course.
How many years am I gunna live behind shades
Even my shadow gets the most attention.
Tired of wishing for the best still the stress keeps consuming
success is up a hill a thousand miles away.
Only if I had dreams to steal just to **** time
A false grind running in circles chasing my own ***
well even a dog wouldn't chase after a ***** with a fur collar
I'm a dog barking at these strays.
No choice no vision just a broken sand clock
paused days seems to delay my own knowledge.
No oracles its rhetorical trapped inside of Matrix living a basic life
Brainwashed by circles of successors.
So many serpents biting my flesh in this Garden of Eden
Starving and bleeding constantly dreaming when I'm sleep
and when I'm sleeping I'm 2 steps behind.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 10:32 AM UTC
He was the ‘revealer of light’
Oracles he read, forecasted future,
Time moved, rustic life stood still
"Look back and see, there is change."
There’s no trial left
The deity acquired the ****** body.
Predictions are vague, he cried in pain
And he danced to his unshakable faith.
The God revealed!
The divine and man in a union of its own,
Patrons wept and asked for blessings.
Serpent’s crown over God’s head-
Shone in the dark light, his golden breast
And pointed teeth, sharp as arrows-
Pierced the patrons, they collapsed in devotion.
The dead hero arose with Godliness
He is God, his blood is divine.
There is change, there is change!
The drums arose and it stroke bold,
Patrons cried in religious zeal
The God plunged himself into the bonfire
He reincarnated.
Born again to die again! Born again to die again!
There is no change! There is no change!
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 11:38 AM UTC
Planks, splintering in solidity
Together twined in tedium
Curving cords of mated metal
Lost in ludicrous loops
Twines of tetanus protrude
Danger danger
Rising flying roaring floating
Above the stillborn trains
Arching acrid aerial arms
Lazy concrete spiral, neighbor snail
Inverse slide with railings
Rumble rumble try and grumble
Jitter in jumpy juxtaposition
Guts of grotesque giants
Flayed flawed under flaming flight
Blink away oblivion
Orange and omnificent, opaque concern
Useful hangnail, table scraps
Rise above
Shocked stillness soon stumbling
Ornamental oasis for the oracles
Unseen unheard untasted unsmelled
Unfeeling unused to understanding
Carry me across
Fly me over
Lift me beyond
Suspend.
Glimpse the unparalleled phenomenon
Ribs of steel, rain has parted
Seeping to the soul
Buzzing through the boards
Immobile, cradle in the wind
Twist
Take off your sunglasses
Be sure to look around as you pass through
Oct 20, 2012
Oct 20, 2012 at 10:30 PM UTC
.
*The early sun warms my veins,
Dawn chorus birds are chattering again
A heady smell of dew and flowers
sets the scene for the morning hours.
The mid-day sun warms my face,
dancing butterflies pass playing chase.
The intoxicating scent of life in bloom
carries the promise of the afternoon.
The evening sun warms my world,
Oracles smile at the cool Spring Girl.
Perfumes waft from way out of sight
holding the future through the night.*
© Pagan Paul (2015/18)
Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 5:48 AM UTC
Hordes of metaphorical oracles awaken me from sleep
Dreams of paralysis, lost inside the deep
Rabbit hole analysis meets a descent so steep
While these Prodding thoughts got me tripping over my own feet
Interpretations or revelations what does it mean?
How long can one last existing inside of this scene?
Wide eyes lids closed coincide with winter snow
shallow breath heavy toll watching bodies decompose
presence felt, identity unknown, an experience to shake the bones.
Straining to take quick control, interpretations from the occipital lobe
lying semi lucid, fear from the cold
vocalizing panicked silence binded in time with mind stuck in molds
To even have witnissed this instance means it's time to grow.
the fire's flowing im slowly blowing my CO2
What do I want, what do I need?
This mission eye must see through
Take this steady ascension into the next lesson
clearing the mirror for a perspective of truth.
The more that is reflected, the more I see you
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 7:27 PM UTC
High above and brave;
Taunting the waters below.
With this bridge we have conquered
Open spaces
And Time opens its wings
To let us pass without aging.
Who ages on the bridge?
No one.
Children are arrested in a state
Of wondrous apprehension.
The old forget gravity's pull
On their brittle bones.
It is a marvelous thing that connects
Our world to
Middle Earth and Rivendell; the great
Castle of Gormenghast, Narnia and
The fathomless depths of Cthulu; the
Temples of the Oracles; the lost rock
Walls of the Necropolis; the emerald
Towers of Oz; the Memorial to Krypton
In the Fortress of Solitude; the waters of
Lethe; the expanse of Midgard and the
Rainbow Bridge; Mount Olympus;
Daedelus' Labyrinth; the Inferno, the
Purgatorio and the Paridisio; the dark
Forest's of Pan; and the broad field's of
Chiron.
And the galaxy of stars, of worlds destroyed
And created by your Will, that shapeshifter
Of Prima Materia that stretches out in
The limitless space that is your mind.
This ancient construction of arched
Rock, mankind's greatest achievement
That draws the curious, the adventurous
Without verdict or punishment, and gives
Them the ability to walk on air, defeating
The current of death that rushes
Obliviously below.
Oct 23, 2010
Oct 23, 2010 at 4:12 PM UTC
From the visions of sparrow vanguards
that fly insatiably onward.
From the tombs of ancient hearts draped
in flowing, moth-eaten fabric.
From the fighter jets stalling somewhere
above solitary and succinct farmlands.
From the bottom of a broken purple
sunset that lies embossed on my brain.
From the silliest half-thought left
unvoiced in the vagrant light of a damp
and desolate lamp lying in a landfill.
From several mouths at once.
From oracles cross-legged in caves.
From the gills of a catfish on a hook.
From mythical forgeries and the perjurer's tongue.
To the subdued hope resting in a
trembling hand gripped round its pen.
To satisfaction that is oneness that
seems to never arrive but is there
all along.
To the peaks of the Himalayas.
To my spidered desk light, shallow with doubt.
To my flustered and torrential page.
Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 9:39 PM UTC
Thy tallow flame burns brighter than the rest, my love,
Warming the jealous heart within my breast, my love!
Thou art the envy of all lovers' lovers eyes,
Thy whim commands me unto thy behest, my love!
Arcadia proffers to thee her beauty throne
Where shepherdesses gather to attest, my love!
Wild winter plants her lilies over autumn crown,
Setting pure ice born crystals for thy crest, my love!
Yggdrasil bows and offers thee a fledgling branch,
A gnarlèd sceptre, life and spirit blessed, my love!
Erato guides old Argo unto Colchis bay,
Thy stately robes to fetch from hydras nest, my love!
All-seeing Delphi Oracles gaze heavenward,
To beg thy wisdom (or they lied and guessed), my love!
And I, your humble servant Tryst, declare to thee,
Thou art my sacred never-ending quest, my love!
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 6:38 PM UTC
Yeah, I know all about your people
How they worship drunken image
How they've exalted you to the status
Of a hero, a legend
A mythological god
Bacchus best buddy
You keep good company
but swine follow you
Different as day and night
Yet they all clamor for a good seat
They fight and swing fists
For a place in the front row
For the chance that a stream of gin-soaked spittle might splat on one of their faces
a soothing balm
a gob of stench and sputum
They gather it up
They mix it with mud
Thicken it into gel
and bow down to a snot green idol
a pus dripping idol
They'll worship it at the foot of the mountain
The towering landfill where you've brought them
Or they'll bring it to your ceremonies
They wave your banner in the air
A colorful representation of the Beefeater
Proud of their devotion
Proud of their status as "The Chosen"
Not necessarily
Sure
Of the WHYS or the WHEREFORES
You just seemed to be worth the trouble
Worth a laugh to watch you
To see you falling down
To hear your words of wisdom
(True wise words they are, too)
Slurred into gibberish
You are their man
Whose oracles remain silent
Lost in a deep dream that swirls through your sleep-dizzy mind
Whose glory and honor
Fall down
From your pulpit
In the center of a room full of people
99% of whom see YOU
Not as a profit
Not as a beatnik
Not as a poet
Not as a sage
Not as a seeker
Not as an asgst ridden agnostic
No idol
No god
99% know exactly
What you are
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 6:55 AM UTC
Can you tell me have I lost my mind?
Seeking other lonely to be my guide.
Streetlight prophets have all your answers for a price
Turning all your coppers into fortified signs.
I keep on dreaming of you and of you only
Speaking your name as though it's something I hold holy
But can you tell me does the sky get lonely
.. Siting all alone up there
Sing me songs of love and revolution
In a rage of fury and absolution
The alley oracles keep searching for solutions
To find fortune in hearts weakened by contusions.
They sing...
Find me love sweet like sacramental wine
For my penance I'd pay any price
Give me strength to pursue my paradise
And the wisdom when I find it to recognize
That the only thing missing in my life
Was someone to walk beside.
They sing...
Can you tell us have we lost our minds
Seeking other lonely to be our guides
To navigate and hide us in the streetlights
As we lay awake looking for a sign.
Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 8:56 PM UTC
Established landmarks removed test the fates
Burning wind in a vacant sky
Rearranged cosmic hemispheres of mind
Oracle of day not seen with naked eye
The need for warmth a thing of the past
Frigid waters the basis of newfangled cell
Tortured derelicts kept from spiritual vision
Oracle of night hangs in days empty shell
Dubious means to generate a sun of artificial light
But a fling cannot replace a love that is shunned
Yet warm rays of sunlight still flow above the temporal
Still hanging in defiance of the 60 cycle hum
Regain your bearings oh heart of Pure Light
Everything in its place: oracle of day and oracle of night.
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 11:22 AM UTC
back in the day
rocks could talk
often
they where
casual, petty and small-minded
just like us
divinities platitudes
every word a drop of manna
its magic
wow magic
so out of conceit
we made them gods
deferred to their credibility
and like idiot children
paid attention to their great allegories
a provident sea of wisdom
from the skeletons of time
we carved their faces from stones
put them on pedestals
and gave them names
the great know it alls
urns of heaven
those oracles of old
and so ensued
the epic cycle of talking statues
and thats how decisions where made
back in the day
the statues are strangely mute now
sunken shadows into earths bowels
and the age of reason
has been transplanted
by the age of
*what the ****
a new
hobbled world soul
of darkened consciousness
to cope with tentacles of complexity
and a forest of trials
where depth of thought has been replaced
and decisions are made by
the exalted
ennie meenie minee moe
method
an abstruse form of ritual magic
so from now on
all arguments will be settled
by me
sticking my tongue out
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 3:16 PM UTC
*My muse can be thought of as a curse
for it comes at the most inopportune times
but she also plays nice
and brings me peace of mind*
*My muse pounces on me to write
Hit by the force of nature in nature
The sound of crashing waves guide my hand
Releasing words from my body*
*My muse is like a lover
She comes to me in dreams
She teases, pleases then leaves*
*Calliope my lover comes often
She's never satisfied
This temptress of the tablet*
*Just think we could feel
the warmth from the same sun
Hear the same whispers in the breeze
Wish upon the same fallen star
and look up to the same majestic trees*
*She connects all
No matter the place
Her sirens song on the wind for all
Under the same night light constellations
Wreathed in the fog under veiled trees scribbling*
*She is a giver
When allowed to live within us
She gives a whole new view
Bringing two poets together
Even though there are miles in between
She gives her heart and soul
and the drive for us to dream*
*Her gift is poetic eloquence
Stirring within two
Beautifully scribes new words
New places to explore
Distance means nothing to a muse
She bestows everything she has to her
chosen oracles*
By Melissa S and Palmer
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 11:15 AM UTC
S-So many times she stands in this place
O-Offering her fine opinions so full of grace
A-Always she's in the know about everything
P- Politely we listen to all of her verbal meandering
B-Brilliant is her oratory its akin to Churchill's
O-Oracles come to mind when her tones spill
** marks the spot where she'll be performing her drill
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 5:46 AM UTC
In my geographic corner, where it rains most often,
when it does not, I remember you
on the face of the rocks, lightfooted on the oracles
amongst the bobcats and the butterflies
and the sunshowers like curtains from real.
Years ago, but minutes; miles, no—
I cannot deny the miles.
I open my window on this spring morning and I
taste Delphi in the air, and you,
you everywhere.
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 4:49 PM UTC
I.
I awoke with different eyes today;
What felt like the eyes of Antares;
A lucid frenzy orbiting
ambrosial crimson dahlias,
Laughing.
You bore witness to the opening of my ribcage
That I have solemnly manifested
for your mind only.
I have opened my rib cage for you, yes,
Like a weeping delicate bloom,
Birthing in the winter desert,
travail.
This is your virginity
Mothered by my violent torn hands;
My bones shudder;
Vibrations of prophecies,
Oracles of each single atom
Bursting within the cosmos, singing—
I prostrate;
Submissive to your fragility.
You colored my skin
With the shade of your rouged lips,
And like the moon,
my branched bones became Spring
By your mouth
Entombed beautifully in the garden of our creed.
Don’t you know that your hands,
Your hands are flooded
With sins?
the sins you have encountered with your victims;
Like me, your victim;
Our veins flow from the rivers
of mother earths chest.
Nymphs with there pale skins;
They bathe in your hidden ocean of blood
That has yet to burst forth
Held behind the enshrined gates of virginity.
I hold you above my head,
I humbly wear you as my crown.
II.
I awoke with different eyes today
Perhaps the eyes of the black cat
Dying her ninth death.
I devise these things,
And I can tell you
The pleasure of feeling
Nothing.
III.
I awoke with different eyes today
Half life, half death.
I have gazed at life
And cried.
I have conversed with death
And laughed;
And by all means
Analogies have never seemed so bona fide
as the affairs of the sun and the moon.
IV
You awoke with new eyes this morning,
A woman.
You are now a woman.
This is the only difference.
forgive me for my words.
-Arizona
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 8:30 AM UTC
Memories, corpses, decomposition
Making love to Earth’s arsenal genitals
A colorless tapestry, a scar unyielded
Well I only wished to eat a bowl
Of insomnia yet, in the youth of
Every midnight lotus; we eat each others
Emotions; drink each other’s thoughts
A banner of wordplay, a stream of cement
Transmit mystic oracles
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 7:15 PM UTC
A star-crossed son was born
To the father whom he would ****
And to the mother whom he would kiss
In incestuous, marital vow one day
Welts upon his feet
Found in the forest, a baby crying,
He grew wise and wrong
Unaware of a conspired world
When Oracles did speak to him
As drunken men and and as pretty women
He took their words upon his heart
Without eyes gouged and necks broken
Open eyes looking, truly seeing,
He did bear the revolting truth
Without nary complaint
To the Gods who cursed him
Thus, it was Laius who lived
And it was Polybus who died
And it was Jocasta who did not see
Her son at the bejewelled altar
Rather, it was Merope, with her head turned,
Who saw dear Oedipus at the altar
Obeying the Will of the Gods
But to what ends?
He was meant to punish; to defy; to incite all evils
Not adhere to this cruel destiny
And now it is the wrong mother-wife
Whom he kisses, unravelling, in linen sheets
Jul 23, 2020
Jul 23, 2020 at 12:17 AM UTC
Where contemplation finds her sacred spring,
Where heav’nly music makes the arches ring,
Where virtue reigns unsully’d and divine,
Where wisdom thron’d, and all the graces shine,
There sits thy spouse amidst the radiant throng,
While praise eternal warbles from her tongue;
There choirs angelic shout her welcome round,
With perfect bliss, and peerless glory crown’d.
While thy dear mate, to flesh no more confin’d,
Exults a blest, an heav n-ascended mind,
Say in thy breast shall floods of sorrow rise?
Say shall its torrents overwhelm thine eyes?
Amid the seats of heav’n a place is free,
And angels open their bright ranks for thee;
For thee they wait, and with expectant eye
Thy spouse leans downward from th’ empyreal sky:
“O come away,” her longing spirit cries,
“And share with me the raptures of the skies.
“Our bliss divine to mortals is unknown;
“Immortal life and glory are our own.
“There too may the dear pledges of our love
“Arrive, and taste with us the joys above;
“Attune the harp to more than mortal lays,
“And join with us the tribute of their praise
“To him, who dy’d stern justice to stone,
“And make eternal glory all our own.
“He in his death slew ours, and, as he rose,
“He crush’d the dire dominion of our foes;
“Vain were their hopes to put the God to flight,
“Chain us to hell, and bar the gates of light.”
She spoke, and turn’d from mortal scenes her eyes,
Which beam’d celestial radiance o’er the skies.
Then thou dear man, no more with grief retire,
Let grief no longer damp devotion’s fire,
But rise sublime, to equal bliss aspire,
Thy sighs no more be wafted by the wind,
No more complain, but be to heav’n resign’d
’Twas thine t’ unfold the oracles divine,
To sooth our woes the task was also thine;
Now sorrow is incumbent on thy heart,
Permit the muse a cordial to impart;
Who can to thee their tend’rest aid refuse?
To dry thy tears how longs the heav’nly muse!
1.5k
In my travels, I happened to find this little box. It has no key, and has no locks. So, sit back, sip a cup of coffee, or favorite drink, relax for a little while, and hopefully, enjoy the ride:
On the table, the box it sits-
All six sides of equal fit-
What is the mystery inside-?
What are the secrets that it hides?
This little box--
That has no key--and has no locks.
The Oracles of Delphi-the hermits on the peak-
Claimed to see the future-but in truth they did not seek-
The power of this little box-
That has no key ----- and has no locks.
It doesn't eat! It doesn't breath!!
But oft it can, and will, relieve
Your fears of the fiercest days ahead--
All within this little box-
That has no key---------and has no locks.
When clouds gather, dark and drea'r--
Eyes swell, and start to tear--
It's not a curse! nor a pox!
Just pick up the little box--
That has no key---------------and has no locks.
So, with great ferocity--
Quench your thirst of curiosity!
Discover the secrets held within!!
Feel the power again, and again!!!
Learn the mystery of the box--
That has no key--------------------and has no locks
(YOU MAY NOW OPEN THE BOX)
Put together with guise and guile--
With hopes that it will make you smile-
So, now you know the mystery--
And the secret of the box-
There never was a need -- for keys and locks!!!
Copyright r.riddle-August 17, 2010
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 11:56 AM UTC
Tell, if thou canst, and truly, whence doth come
This camphire, storax, spikenard, galbanum,
These musks, these ambers, and those other smells
Sweet as the Vestry of the Oracles.
I’ll tell thee:—while my Julia did unlace
Her silken bodice but a breathing space,
The passive air such odour then assumed
As when to Jove great Juno goes perfumed,
Whose pure immortal body doth transmit
A scent that fills both heaven and earth with it.
1.4k
Intense
Existence
Always
Ignores
All
Ignorant
Oracles
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 9:46 PM UTC