"sigil" poems
Considers protest at disrespect,
To be the sigil
Of a *****
In reality
He who chokes down ****
And smiles through it,
Is in actuality.
But what is it,
To remit?
Jun 15, 2023
Jun 15, 2023 at 2:55 PM UTC
The mage with her sage
was cleaning her cage
imagining tragedy's
angels engage
She erected a sigil
protecting her vigil
a palindrome had in Rome
angst to assuage
As she brought out her cards
she thought of the bards
*had her spirit inherited
some of their ways?*
When she put them away
she had nothing to say
and the guides of her writing
were silent for days
Mar 3, 2022
Mar 3, 2022 at 10:01 PM UTC
Is life a story, is life magick dreaming to love?
I gazed up. “Standing below the elephantine magnolia,
the ground still bore Tuscany ochre from autumns last kiss.”
My eyes solivagant orbs fed on spring’s dews in mourning
──jewellery clinging opulently to her naked form.
Dawn chilled the breeze caressing her body as abscission
demanded she undressed her emerald gown of leaves.
Magenta and cream blooms sprang “loudly” seducing
─ blushing mauve crowned centres,
a population of endless figurines perched motionless on aching
naked branches.
Solomon’s seal burned white within me drunk impending suns arrows, opulent words of silver Verbus diablio kissed in a cauldron
of Magnolia words, a banquet for mortals that seek loves gold.
A lone spider echoed silence bearing the sigil of Jupiter’s
vermillion and white spun striations luffing on the breeze
warming. “Magnolia dressed the day ardent in perfumed
── glorious plumes that each set sail across waking skies.”
Ablaze I am luscious dreams wrapped in sweet nectar,
travelling limbic memories breathing deeply, held captive,
wanton within her labyrinths of silk caresses, petals whispering,
sweet love as she engulfs my last resolve.
In raptures white velvet gown my hem sweeps over gold russet
and brittle autumns words forged in winters need for warmth──mind leaves crunching beneath life’s changing seasons,
stitched I cling enamoured to mortal honeymoon summered fields.
I am the female of sapphire tears twisting, glittering melting ice shards, bequeathed of pained black stars travelled on passionate magick fires, breathed on melodious Roma nights.
Rested among the branches a mantel crucified- drunk once more,
a bloom held silent in time weeping, exploding fragrant in a coloured soul, a luffing flower creature to life──crowned
──to sun hope thorns.
©ASPAR (A Sol Poet Arnay Rumens)
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 6:17 AM UTC
we take the signs of spring and call them grand
each knows they'll weep some day to see them pass
immortal symbols set by mortal hand
words tell us little but they have to stand
for all our knowledge of the wind on grass
we take the signs of spring and call them grand
since each bright sigil comes at sun's command
and all together form a joyous mass
immortal symbols set by mortal hand
reflection of the heart sprung from the land
for one short season then they're gone alas
we take the signs of spring and call them grand
inadequate the words so brief and bland
lacking in strength and grace like so much gas
immortal symbols set by mortal hand
need so much more for sentiments they fanned
their colours cannot stay within the glass
we take the signs of spring and call them grand
immortal symbols set by mortal hand
Apr 30, 2010
Apr 30, 2010 at 1:54 PM UTC
Burn his sigil
into soft flesh
of wrist or
maybe
of throat
to set free
the music
from the
Soul
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 7:50 AM UTC
The mage with her sage
was cleaning her cage
imagining tragedy's
angels engage
She erected a sigil
protecting her vigil
a palindrome had in Rome
angst to assuage
As she brought out her cards
she thought of the bards
*had her spirit inherited
some of their ways?*
When she put them away
she had cart loads to say
and the guides of her writing
stayed by her for days!
Mar 3, 2022
Mar 3, 2022 at 10:01 PM UTC
.
The serpent around my eye
in perpetuity eating its tail.
A sigil to represent fluidity,
sheds its skin to no avail.
The Truths play around my head in loops eternal,
infinite possibilities of ***********
fractal gems cavorting in lustrous oceans,
that cleanse an hours disgrace.
Pan-Dimensional
and Omni-Directional
Truths are connecting.
Ouroboros, protector of the Tree of Life,
his apple is the gift of Knowledge.
Are those tempted weak and futile?
or hungry for the secrets of Cronos.
The fruit of Wisdom picked, and devoured,
in the garden quest for clarity.
And the serpent around my eye,
like a monocle allowing sight,
flows Truths into my mind,
reflecting matrices taken to flight.
© Pagan Paul (09/06/17)
Jun 9, 2017
Jun 9, 2017 at 1:57 PM UTC
it was fine to say
that nothing would hurt me
but the crushing weight
of hideous swan songs
darling, you should know
i was made for this
house of knives
the sigil was burning
from across the sea
and under the covers
you pulled away
blood red lights
kissed my animal face
when i heard your name
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 2:02 PM UTC
The rumbling of the bellowing sky
Can help to greatly and subtly imply
And omen of the future's promise
Not a symbol or a sigil--
Far more powerful, only daunting
Why'd I say
The ocean's hush
Would be the first to beckon
My stored, molding fear
I've never been in hollow lonesome
For the place I know I was conceived within
But don't ever tell me these phobias don't build--
From shame, lost hope, and aging agony...
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 11:28 PM UTC
Potted plant sways
Unrelenting dew
In a disquieted dawn
A sigil
A herald -- embodied
Gazing over the balcony.
Forlorn
Comprehensive
Echoes
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 2:22 AM UTC
* Phae, light
phoe·nix
/ˈfēniks/
Nix, night
**...burning itself on a funeral pyre and rising from the ashes with renewed youth to live through another cycle.
-a person or thing regarded as uniquely remarkable in some respect.**
Joseph Campbell
The Sun on it's daily journey rises with shining rays upon it's sides at the horizon; the wings. The Sun is symbolically an Eagle who rises at dawn and soars the day until time for rest. The Hero's journey is based on these movements. ⁽ᑫᵘᵃᵐ ˢᵘᵘˢ ˢᵉⁿˢᶦᵗ⁾
PHOENIX
Night and Day combined in a cycle denoting the Sun's journey. ⁻ᴵᵇᶦᵈ
I am born again
so I must journey,
Paused in a trepidation
noon to my respite,
Moon she follows me
spirit sends my sojourn,
I burn on horizon
my form to ashes,
Tested by the darkness
lair of that beast.
Eclipsing the New Moon
broken her to pieces.
Followed by the dark
By my vanquished foe!
I arise anew, again
Dawn, day, dusk, night.
Naivete
The Fall
Ashes
Katabasis
Tribulation
Rebirth
Enlightenment/Ascension
King
8
OGDOAD
Og(cK): aga/okto/octo
Eight
⁻ˢᵘᵐᵉʳᶦᵃⁿ/ᴳʳᵉᵉᵏ/ᴸᵃᵗᶦⁿ
Do(u)/ At: place of serpents
Place, temple/serpent, snake
⁻ˢᵘᵐᵉʳᶦᵃⁿ/ᴱᵍʸᵖᵗᶦᵃⁿ
The place of Serpents
Council of Eight Serpentine Gods
Duat
Heaven(s)
The eight unknown actions
-deities of elemental materials
Vasus
⁻ᴴᶦⁿᵈᵘ
Sun
Sky
Moon
Stars
Night
Weather
Water
Nature
A
PILLAR
DJED
pillar/spine
...connected to the serpent upon the rise.
THE
DRAGON'S
MOUTH
SPEWS
FORTH
FIRE
6
The fire of the Sun-
THE
DRAGON
IS WISE/ALL-KNOWING
WITH A KEEN GAZE
For the Moon is thought-
⁻ᴴᵉʳᵐᵉˢ/⁻ᴳʳᵉᵉᵏ
⁻ᴴᵒʳ⁻ᵐᵃˢ/⁻ᴱᵍʸᵖᵗᶦᵃⁿ
And Charon means keen gazer-
⁻ᴳʳᵉᵉᵏ
INSIDE
HIS WINGS
ARE EYES, MANY EYES
-stars-
Gigi
Ig-gigi
Eyes, many eyes-
⁻ˢᵘᵐᵉʳᶦᵃⁿ
BES
A beast made up of animal parts-
...parts of the Zodiac/the animal circus
⁻ᴱᵍʸᵖᵗᶦᵃⁿ
ZU-Bird
Zu
⁻ˢᵘᵐᵉʳᶦᵃⁿ
SOKAR
So
⁻ᴱᵍʸᵖᵗᶦᵃⁿ
*Zu-So:/ˈzō/sō/;
Action/the sigil of Saturn, a repeated action:
-actions that repeat
8
⁻ˢᵘᵐᵉʳᶦᵃⁿ
<A FOURTH ALBUM WITH FOUR TITLES>
8
*KRONOS
⁻ᴳʳᵉᵉᵏ
SET
⁻ᴱᵍʸᵖᵗᶦᵃⁿ
Saturn
⁻ˢᵘᵐᵉʳᶦᵃⁿ
8
...and his number is Eight...
...eight turned sideways is,
t i m e
OG
r e p e a t s
I N F I N I T Y
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 6:34 PM UTC
.
A chain of lights
lead off into the distance,
illuminating little
but so bright in their own world.
Along an old animal track
to a standing stone
ancient in peaceful repose,
a family sigil,
weather worn by time,
proud of its place
marking the passing of aeons.
The light blinks out
and darkness falls like a drape
of lightlessness,
and the Crest crackles,
miniature lightning
caressing the old frigid stone.
Waiting.
© Pagan Paul (16/06/19)
Jun 20, 2019
Jun 20, 2019 at 3:42 AM UTC
Grabbing shadows in the hole like alley way
I say
Where is the light you promised to show?
All i can see is my sillouette
Parking itself beneath the moons sigil glow
In the kitchen the size of a cabin Robust figures scramble around to service you
Grabbing Handfuls of bread to make a feast for immortality.
Shadows in the steet lights they crash and slam into eachother
scrambling to see to it that their own lives are protected...
From who?
Just you?
The one who said feast on this and become what you see in me?
No longer can you be trusted benevolent and respectless...
So bring forth your evil and rain down your sludge
in the alley I'm grabbing footprints that lead to hospitality
Im stabbing peasants drinking essence from the stained blood that i touch
Now it seems so exact
Now i see..While dancing in this carnivorous place where i can see the moon
I've brought upon myself a strain a darkness we call doom
The sludge that you rain down covered in limbs bloodied from mastication
Is what we see in you...
A meaningless intolerance a public scream from excess bliss a carnage from the blue abyss
An alley way
The cavernous
Mar 15, 2012
Mar 15, 2012 at 5:59 PM UTC
She lives in
the shaky in-between-place.
the sigil behind walls.
the cracks through which
daisies spring,
where the
cold sunlight falls.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
Lying on my stomach I remember the way your fingers felt unbuttoning my flesh.
The way your teeth left cursive along my spine
Beckoning me to open like a book that you were never allowed to read.
I will unfold for you with the promise that you will only sign your name in blood
Along the edge of my sanity and only if you take me out of my mind.
I am not looking to lay anywhere except six feet under
Where I can feel your fire without fear of burning myself with your flame.
So I beg you-
Cover me in gasoline
Strike me where you please
And leave your sigil in my ashes.
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 4:53 PM UTC
I don't need help changing my tire
I need your political support
to put out this fire
set by the angry mob of course
and there's no way I can force
you to see from the high horse
you gained from light chores
so keep your random acts of kindness
as long as you cure your blindness
I think we could find this
more profound niceness
embedded within the social construct
so kindness is required and not luck
because our intermittent charity
won't achieve economic parity
making our situation scarily
here to stay apparently
so don't tell me to be civil
from behind the American sigil
that sits on a swivel
with **** symbols
and those that swindle
a nation of marks
pushing shopping carts
in a lockstep art
dividing us from the heart
so even if you mow my yard
we'll still be miles apart
separated by a canyon of cordiality
that a river of oppression runs through
carrying away our ordeal reality
as fast as guns do
when they're held by the sightless
who convince themselves they're righteous
through random acts of kindness.
May 26, 2022
May 26, 2022 at 9:05 PM UTC
I have reached the end
I am at last triumphant
I am pedigree of pious desire and knowledge eternally sacred
I have welcomed the pilgrims
I have guided their yearning will
To the celestial comforts of feathers’ yellows and sanctity’s whites
Whites white as my waving robe and now my thin white gown
In which I await my appointed time
My tongue is wriggling
Circling across my gums
In sensuous reveling of my life’s most blessed and greatest times
For I have laid eyes upon the glory of life’s highest gifts
For I have laid hands upon the most succulent succubus fertile hips
And I have supped of hymen’s glisten
I swam in Bacchus’s wines
I have recited doctrines of worship
I worshipped saliva’s shine
And I have observed communion
I drank it with ***** dust
I have read the hatha yoga
**** as the first man forged
And I have anointed blossoming ******* beneath the holy sigil
Sputtering laughter
Only trottel bows in truth and believes I dispense
A cleansing and redeeming eternal salvation
Have you no eyes to see my body’s common human shape?
Do you think I’m fat from God’s great love?
I cackle in the presence of such unwieldy weakness
Although my bones are sagging
More sagging is my wrinkled brain!
My memories are mating and birthing strange chimerical forms
They’re flooding and blending
Into vivid dreamlike collage
I see the faces of children I’ve taught
Atop necks of ****** I’ve known
The cheap locations of ****** have grafted with the echoing halls of cathedrals
Bizarre lights of nightclub glow are dancing upon spiritual texts
I hear an angelic litany
Sung through a stripper’s lips
I feel sheep’s wool
In the tousled hair of my boyish youth
I taste sweat in the bread of religion’s stoic privation
My air is growing more ragged
With every pitiful inhale I take
I feel light although I still see my heavy gluttonous flesh
My spirit is peeling away
Beyond my body’s earth
Arising high above from mortality’s curse
I am ascending into the holy realm
A realm with gates inviting
Like opened lotioned legs
I can see my own corpse
Surrounded by genuine reverence
They don’t even notice the shot glass
Still clutched in my pasty fist
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 6:44 PM UTC
Four ****** down washed away with beer.
I can no longer live a life lead by fear.
Constant stress of just being awake,
when all I ever wanted was to just get away.
To start my life over, but it’s not that easy
when the mask you once donned has sunk its teeth in.
The walls I built around me to keep myself safe
have become this new fortress from which I can’t escape.
The sigil of the heart I once wore on my sleeve
has long since faded into a jaded, new me.
How foolish I was to think I could go back
to the person I was before I donned the mask.
I’m afraid I’ll do something I regret.
Like go AWOL, or just end up dead.
I try to hold on but the memories are fleeting
now all that I hear is my subconscious screaming
piercing my thoughts, no hope for peace
now all that I seek is some form of release.
A light pole at 80, just another crash.
Or the squeeze of a trigger for my brain to catch.
I’m tired of not seeing a reason
to see this life through yet another season.
Everyone dies, that fact remains true.
you may be happy living
but I’m not you.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 1:06 AM UTC
O flower of the night, with sigil so bright
sing me a song, of times long gone
when the wind was free, to swirl in glee
when the heart felt peace, like somber trees
O river of the dark, so slow yet stark
allow me in, to your depths within
drive me afar, where the sun is a star
show me solace, in your watery embrace
O crystal of the earth, of infinite worth
harden me so, till I can't feel the woe
touch me soft, yet make brittle my soul
so it shatters soon, and I can start anew
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 1:48 PM UTC
A resounding truth sticks to every wall,
Like meat on teeth, beneath.
Surfacing tragic like cyber sugar on the conscious,
Of every intelligent automaton.
Devaluing the humanity we created in sleep,
Harbouring our nylon smiles and effortless chaste.
Ripped flesh on creations, godlike
Burned images, sigil instilled in culture
Nocturnus, bleeding in harmony
Locomotion of self actualisation homunculus cured
Rid of transcendental elements at the first instance
Of empathy, drawn out in an empty tenure
Interlocking lines-moving, spread out against
Aluminium and glass, superseding the law of nature,
Bubbles, echoing through the apology of life
Bursting forthwith and raining bleach and decadence,
On delirious heads-boiled in sand for life eternal.
Your masquerade, a bloodline polluted
By perfumed green shading, eliminating the best
Carrion, complicated sadness, basic molecular print
Our progenitor, poster child for carbon-based reluctance.
Menial beings, occupying space to nowhere,
Hotel rooms full of dust,
Lying figures, tossing themselves on typewriters
Creating a kaleidoscope of prose.
Hands, arms & legs bound by penance,
And the delayed snot of the diseased
Winding amongst this polystyrene city.
Sunken into a cosmopolis refuse,
The anchor to all that is pure,
Heaven is your populace.
And your ego is the gel that destroys our relation.
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 10:21 PM UTC
Do you think
You'll ever be tired of beeing mine?
Drunk ****** under two and a half bottles of red wine.
I know your kind,
Short and beautiful
Small lips with wolfs teeth
Swallow my soul whole and carve your sigil into my breast,
Never once did I think you would ever fuel
What's beating beneath my chest.
Breathe steady baby, arche your hips
I've never been loved just quiet like this,
Your hands around my throat
My mind begins to float
I know before you. I had next to no hope.
"How many miles have you crawled "
You whisper in my ear
"How many smiling faces ,
And run down places have you seen
Before you realized I was your queen?"
"A dozen smiles "
My face turning blue
"And a million miles"
And I know it's true
"But I know I'll never find another broken heart that fits so well beside me, I'll never find anyone else like you "
Jan 15, 2017
Jan 15, 2017 at 12:44 AM UTC
Contact - Pews with no use, a forgotten passage treacled, serving the timbre of resonance
Fundamental mistake agreed upon - Taken in turns, compromise youth, stripes of black tape, holding in, holding down - With such emotion
A feeling, an instinct - Complex in nature, futile in structure - Sigil-like and abrupt - Bursting forth a cacophony of irreverence
Yet, buried vast leagues underneath, the reflex of upset digestion in a tank of split hairs
Full/Frugal
This is within the borders of communication - Feedback - Crossed between importance
Cornerstones moss covered, sinking to the bottom of refuse
Candy & gum flavoured coastal reefs - Hardening on the decay of brimstone and salt
My ego is capsuled, exerting pressure equally from all angles
A fishing hook, on a fishing rod - Cast into a culture of aplomb
Plum knives, bread, buried under volcanoes - Just far away enough, shielded by brass
Squashed inside my grandmother's tin - Old, rustic and wilting
Baking our ancestry into extinction - Corroding, and creating callous embassy
Just long enough, to settle our stomachs - I dance.
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 7:54 PM UTC
The Amelia Falls, where waters break,
A young man stands as dawns awake.
Sigil , bold and bright,
A mark of will, a guiding light.
Hecate blessings like the moon light.
Oil and gas beneath the presidents feet,
Fueling ships, the nation's fleet.
Once rice and sugar tilled the land,
Now black gold flows from the presidents right hand.
Through sweat and steel, he built his name,
A force of progress, forged in flame and fame
Like Musk before, he dreams in codes,
Where energy sparks and data flows.
The Dutch arrived, their wager cast,
They bought the land, they saw his past.
Not just wealth, but future planned,
They forged his bond, they took his hand.
And now he stands, the world in sight,
Guyana rising, bold and bright.
No longer bound by past despair,
A titan shaped by fire and air.
In the city’s heart, a hush unfolds,
The President, a child he holds.
A newborn wrapped in tender grace,
The future’s breath upon his face.
With care he lifts, with might he sways,
A leader’s arms, a nation's gaze.
For in this child, the hope is set,
The dream not done, the path not met.
The pink COVID slip that cares
The 100k cash grant that shares
Votes like sugar, sharp yet sweet,
A pulse that makes the drumbeat meet.
Like honey poured in hands of fate,
A whispered choice that fixes the slate, with hands of faith
The young rise up with eyes alight,
Their voices carving paths of might.
No story ends where hope still grows,
A tide that swells, a flame that glows.
Gold in veins, the mountains sing,
Electronic minds, a future’s wing.
Rice in fields, the harvest thrives,
Oil and gas keeps the 25 alive.
Cards are swiped, the markets rise,
Trade and commerce touch the skies.
A land of wealth, both old and new,
Built by hands both strong and true.
Yet in his veins, the battle flows,
Kept alive where medicine goes.
Right hands guide, the path is clear,
Strength restored with 25 percent every year.
Through fire and fate, he stands so tall,
A future built, a nation’s call.
The Falls still roar, the waters run,
And so his empire has begun 1331.
Mar 11, 2025
Mar 11, 2025 at 2:59 AM UTC
Sitting here
in my cardboard abode
I found it to be laborious
and a hassle
to find my joys hidden
in forbidden code
I've made my peace
with being this castles rascal
------------------------------------------------------------
The bile tongued prince
sat upon his minced words
trying to dismiss the news
that he had heard
But the taunting is ever present
To think that all this haunting
was brought on by the peasants
The advisor was all the wiser
for remaining silent
He'd learned his words
are sometimes better unspent
Letting youth flap carelessly
like the sigil above the hall
With a clap and a tap
the prince barks to answer the call
He seemed hesitant
as any should be in this time
He bluffed confidence
as he declared the act a crime
So pick up arms
This burden befalls on all
who can woo
No telling by the yelling
on how many sons
mothers went through
Red and black
a snake like tide
walked and waved
as it passed through the gate
A shimmering glide
the baking sun glinted
off every single armor plate
Acting accountant
for how many would be lost
The sun an abacus
showing what it would cost
To war
Feb 7, 2021
Feb 7, 2021 at 1:34 PM UTC