"sixfold" poems
Lo! I lament. Fallen is the sixfold Star:
Slain is Asar.
O twinned with me in the womb of Night!
O son of my bowels to the Lord of Light!
O man of mine that hast covered me
From the shame of my virginity!
Where art thou? Is it not Apep thy brother,
The snake in my womb that am thy mother,
That hath slain thee by violence girt with guile,
And scattered thy limbs on the Nile?
Lo! I lament. I have forged a whirling Star:
I seek Asar.
O Nepti, sister! Arise in the dusk
From thy chamber of mystery and musk!
Come with me, though weary the way,
To bring back his life to the rended clay!
See! are not these the hands that wove
Delight, and these the arms that strove
With me? And these the feet, the thighs
That were lovely in mine eyes?
Lo! IO lament. I gather in my car
Thine head, Asar.
And this -is this not the trunk he rended?
But -oh! oh! oh! -the task transcended,
Where is the holy idol that stood
For the god of thy queen's beatitude?
Here is the tent -but where is the pole?
Here is the body -but where is the soul?
Nepti, sister, the work is undone
For lack of the needed One!
Lo! I lament. There is no god so far
As mine Asar!
There is no hope, none, in the corpse, in the tomb.
But these -what are these that war in my womb?
There is vengeance and triumph at last of Maat
In Ra-Hoor-Khut and in Hoor-pa-Kraat!
Twins they shall rise; being twins they are one,
The Lord of the Sword and the Son of the Sun!
Silence, coeval colleague of the Voice,
The plumes of Amoun -rejoice!
Lo! I rejoice. I heal the sanguine scar
Of slain Asar.
I was the Past, Nature the Mother.
He was the Present, Man my brother.
Look to the Future, the Child -oh paean
The Child that is crowned in the Lion-Aeon!
The sea-dawns surge an billow and break
Beneath the scourge of the Star and the Snake.
To my lord I have borne in my womb deep-vaulted
This babe for ever exalted.
2.2k
The bourne conspiracy isn’t held in shades of reflected gray, but the raging current of rosewater.
Soldiers of fortune draped in dandelions uprooted from Napoleon’s farm.
Bronte’s web grows thick inhaling inherent rice.
Nonsense picked up in jabberwocky from a novelized wookiee.
IQ bound success clubs playing the most dangerous game, hunting Will.
Ents chopped and sold over borders, bought back sixfold as disassembled chairs.
Hard hitting lines of north Dallas long past the forty, placating the rules for larger shares.
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 3:37 PM UTC
You are the snowflake
in the buoyant afternoon
where you fade away still,
when I look at you,
pure like a waterfall.
It crashes and I can grapple the sound,
the continuous wave where
the titanic lies down with its
thousand sweet ghosts dancing into waltz
and where the water's steep falls
deep down and deep
and beneath.
You are the snowflake
in the crisp of December
where you turn into a delicate sixfold symmetry.
Where you were as remarkable as white
and bright like the bustling car rides and bus stops
where even the coldness can be someone's warmth.
In every season there's you,
different from time to time
still, when I look at you,
you are as graceful, majestic
for the weather to cast its rain.
Forecast, bluer than the usual;
And when I look at you,
you will always be
the snowflake that melts
in the sunny afternoon
and a delicate sixfold symmetry
in the winter of December.
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 12:04 PM UTC
On hold, I'm on hold
if I may be so bold
I hate being on hold....
feels like you are being so cold
leaving me on hold....
On hold, I'm on hold
my beard has grown mold
while I'm on hold
Sold my living soul
to get off being on hold
Now I'm feeling bold
worth my weight in gold
poke you in the eye scold you for your lie
Tale all told
of me being on hold
rhyme and reason rolled into your sneezing
while I'm on hold
then my provider be dammed sixfold
cutting off my call in a stranglehold
On hold, I was on hold
goes beyond the threshold
lost my foothold
gotta callback to be
put on hold, on hold, on hold
Sep 30, 2017
Sep 30, 2017 at 12:08 PM UTC
Maybe I'm happy,
deep down below.
Covered by miles and miles of snow.
But down here it's cold,
and dark,
like night, sixfold.
So, I'm stuck down here
with my fear,
of winter never ending.
But when I'm with you,
and I am mending,
I smile,
a real one for awhile.
And the snow is melting,
my joy, overwhelming.
So, maybe I'll sit in the trees
underneath the summer sun, feeling free
with you. Maybe.
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 2:23 PM UTC
you are
a flake
of snow
a feathery
ice crystal
a delicate
sixfold
symmetry
of beauty
a winter
wonderland
is what
you are
Dec 11, 2019
Dec 11, 2019 at 6:38 AM UTC
blinded and uncomfortable,
once by lies and fear, now decrepit
the stem running up my back and
its wretched and cursed flower
wilt sixfold ever since the thunder,
the lightning that you unleashed on me,
stolen rouge, broken plumbing -
trying to be more than the damage you left behind.
no butterflies for this mess
conquered and destroyed by downpour, sunburst;
only a mouth full of ocean -
shuddering waves towards the blood moon -
and the remnants of your solipsism
more real to me than my own beating heart.
now, blinded by formal realism and your belligerence,
crimson clouds against inevitable death,
i know you can now see the light
no blades you need to hurt me
no delicately decaying words of devotion
for i always begin with you
and then diverge, disintegrate;
a mockery, mayhem, a survivor of bedlam
could i ever be more than the damage you left behind?
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 3:56 PM UTC