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"oversoul" poems
"The pity of war, the pity war distills". - Wilfred Owen" Just as a feral war begs for armistice,     a season of peace engenders a violence vacuum that begs to be filled     as surely as a hollow begs for a pond. It seems a cosmic battle rages       between the oversouls of people who would chisel a sculpture to grace      and those who would hack off its arms. History’s fools fire up their bully horns      shouting proud oratory to ignorance - and lemmings goose-step to the precipice -       doomed to plunge into a sea of misery.   Then there is quiet - guilty and reflective.      How could we let this happen with so much gain and loss in the balance? and the sculptors of civilization       find fresh marble to once again carve reason, beauty, purpose       from the acrid ashes of pride.      But the oversoul of hate will brood and re-fester      as long as it's thought noble to **** for a cause. © 2016 by Robert Charles Howard
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Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 8:50 AM UTC
Fragile Truce
OR:   “A brief treatise on Antediluvian Gayology ” Α Ω Said Demiurge to Samael: “This universe is getting old. Let’s break on through and fly beyond to where the lead shines gold.” Said Samael to Demiurge: “I’m with you, dude. Let’s rock and roll Let’s rip this veil of Maya in two And glimpse the Oversoul…” Replied his echo Demiurge: “Devoid, divine, it’s ALL good, bro; The sweetest wine is found within Let liquid truth now flow…” So Samael let drop the towel And spread his doctrine’s orifice. The mystic eye of gnosis shined in luminous artifice. Then Sam and Dem, conjoined like beasts made cosmic love (in Koine Greek), transforming gold to toxic lead – and Truth into a freak.
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Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 9:51 PM UTC
Agnother Gnostic Acrostic
Mosaics scrawled in oak, Charters to a new dimension, Candles bring forth grey smoke, Filling a stygian room with tension. A hallowed oversoul awaits a sacrament, Crimson stanzas chanted, a return anticipated, The King still needs a benighted advocate, Atonement was made, with a blade of onyx, serrated. Throughout the hall, a sensation, First came the scent of velvet nectar, Then, the impact of consternation, And all among the walls, dark and unearthly spectres. An observance had concluded, As the veil was torn by madness, And the microcasm, polluted, A world overthrown, by the abyss.
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Oct 7, 2020
Oct 7, 2020 at 12:34 AM UTC
Darker Magic
Eternally yours but for a moment How could I be anything but? The sands of time have shifted you So incredibly far away And I can do nothing Eternally yours forever and a day Living each second hoping you’ll stay How could I cope without my second half? A fruitless endeavor Staining my Oversoul Eternally yours, never, no way Making, taking, parasites ages-old Vestibules for love to fill with gold Leaving room for nothing else inside Stating the obvious, once again...
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Aug 1, 2011
Aug 1, 2011 at 9:55 PM UTC
Entropy Faced True
died of an enlarged heart rode in on the wings of a Seraphim to tell you it was actually broken that it just grew a few too many sizes that day and honey, it burst into a quasar a bouquet of sound like a tin balloon that explodes inside a tunnel full of quiet winds. but now here comes the rain a holy baptism half past a broken heart. we’ll sew it up together with a quicksilver spindle of celestial threads. golden yarn spun from the Oversoul inside my head the seeds of my holy heart-mind sewn beneath my lotus feet. ceramic shards of a broken heart woven whole again showing only golden cracks and seams below the clouds the sun is brighter than it seems. inside this fire we laugh so loud the tunnel full of silent raging winds are giving birth to embers and steaming into clouds. hard hearts will expand with a smile as we float along the wake of the Prince of Wands - bathing in the fire. by jordan
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May 21, 2022
May 21, 2022 at 5:18 PM UTC
Prince of Wands
Will the bard once told us: "Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast". But who will sing the verse and chorus to spell a world in disarray? In this twisted season of idiot's tales, our aching oversoul cries out for sane and cooling anthems to still the throb of molten ******* fevered with fratricidal pride. Author of the cosmos, soothe us now! Whisper dulcet songs of peace in our ears that none can deny or misconstrue. July, 2015
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Jul 27, 2015
Jul 27, 2015 at 4:20 PM UTC
Peace Whisperer