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The Sphynx is drowsy,
Her wings are furled,
Her ear is heavy,
She broods on the world.?
"Who'll tell me my secret
The ages have kept?
? I awaited the seer,
While they slumbered and slept;?

The fate of the manchild,
The meaning of man;
Known fruit of the unknown,
Dædalian plan;
Out of sleeping a waking,
Out of waking a sleep,
Life death overtaking,
Deep underneath deep.

***** as a sunbeam
Upspringeth the palm;
The elephant browses
Undaunted and calm;
In beautiful motion
The thrush plies his wings;
Kind leaves of his covert!
Your silence he sings.

The waves unashamed
In difference sweet,
Play glad with the breezes,
Old playfellows meet.
The journeying atoms,
Primordial wholes,
Firmly draw, firmly drive,
By their animate poles.

Sea, earth, air, sound, silence,
Plant, quadruped, bird,
By one music enchanted,
One deity stirred,
Each the other adorning,
Accompany still;
Night veileth the morning,
The vapor the hill.

The babe by its mother
Lies bathed in joy,
Glide its hours uncounted,
The sun is its toy;
Shines the peace of all being
Without cloud in its eyes,
And the sum of the world
In soft miniature lies.

But man crouches and blushes,
Absconds and conceals,
He creepeth and peepeth,
He palters and steals;
Infirm, melancholy,
Jealous glancing around,
An oaf, an accomplice,
He poisons the ground.

Out spoke the great mother
Beholding his fear,
At the sound of her accents
Cold shuddered the sphere;?
Who has drugged my boy's cup,
Who has mixed my boy's bread?
Who with sadness and madness
Has turned the manchild's head?"?

I heard a poet answer
Aloud and cheerfully,
"Say on, sweet Sphynx! thy dirges
Are pleasant songs to me.
Deep love lieth under
These pictures of time,
They fade in the light of
Their meaning sublime.

The fiend that man harries,
Is love of the Best;
Yawns the Pit of the Dragon
Lit by rays from the Blest.
The Lethe of Nature
Can't trance him again,
Whose soul sees the Perfect,
Which his eyes seek in vain.

Profounder, profounder,
Man's spirit must dive;
To his aye-rolling orbit
No goal will arrive.
The heavens that draw him
With sweetness untold,
Once found, ?for new heavens
He spurneth the old.

Pride ruined the angels,
Their shame them restores,
And the joy that is sweetest
Lurks in stings of remorse.
Have I a lover
Who is noble and free,?
I would he were nobler
Than to love me.

Eterne alternation
Now follows, now flies,
And under pain, pleasure,
Under pleasure, pain lies.
Love works at the centre,
Heart-heaving alway;
Forth speed the strong pulses
To the borders of day.

Dull Sphynx, Jove keep thy five wits!
Thy sight is growing blear,
Rue, myrrh, and ****** for the Sphynx,
Her muddy eyes to clear."
The old Sphynx bit her thick lip,?
"Who taught thee me to name?
I am thy spirit, yoke-fellow!
Of thine eye I am eyebeam.

Thou art the unanswered question;
Couldst see thy proper eye,
Alway it asketh, asketh,
And each answer is a lie.
So take thy quest through nature,
It through thousand natures ply,
Ask on, thou clothed eternity,?
Time is the false reply."

Uprose the merry Sphynx,
And crouched no more in stone,
She melted into purple cloud,
She silvered in the moon,
She spired into a yellow flame,
She flowered in blossoms red,
She flowed into a foaming wave,
She stood Monadnoc's head.

Thorough a thousand voices
Spoke the universal dame,
"Who telleth one of my meanings,
Is master of all I am."
Sienna Apr 2019
i think a lot
about sphynx
no hair to care
for the lemon-shaped eyes
that squeeze shut in the breeze
but do not make lemonade

no sugar either
all protein bro
do you even lift
a finger because EYE do
YEW dont but they dont call you a
sphynx, do they?

oh wait nevermind i sphynx i got confused
eye am not a sphynx i do apologize
but Lucy is, shes my friend.
maybe even more than a friend
eye dont know
its just that shes a

mutant like me
and she pays for it too
just in cancer and heart disease
not with crying and mocking screams
saree i didnt mean to go there
but eye sphynx eyem getting worse
so random but i kinda love it?
My wife is a most knowing woman,
She always is finding me out,
She never will hear explanations
But instantly puts me to rout,
There's no use to try and deceive her,
If out with my friends night or day,
In a most inconceivable manner,
She tells where I've been right away,
She says that I'm 'mean' and 'inhuman.'
Oh! My wife is a most knowing woman.

She would've been hung up for witchcraft
If she had lived sooner, I know,
There's no hiding anything from her,
She knows what I do -- where I go;
And if I come in after midnight
And say 'I have been to the lodge,'
Oh, she says while she flies in a fury,
'Now don't think to play such a dodge!
It's all very fine, but won't do, man,'
Oh, my wife is a most knowing woman.

Not often I go out to dinner
And come home a little 'so so,'
I try to creep up through the hall-way,
As still as a mouse, on tip-toe,
She's sure to be waiting up for me
And then comes a nice little scene,
'What, you tell me you're sober, you wretch you,
Now don't think that I am so green!
My life is quite worn out with you, man,'
Oh, my wife is a most knowing woman!

She knows me much better than I do,
Her eyes are like those of a lynx,
Though how she discovers my secrets
Is a riddle would puzzle a sphynx,
On fair days, when we go out walking,
If ladies look at me askance,
In the most harmless way, I assure you,
My wife gives me, oh! such a glance,
And says 'all these insults you'll rue, man,'
Oh, my wife is a most knowing woman.

Yes, I must give all of my friends up
If I would live happy and quiet;
One might as well be 'neath a tombstone
As live in confusion and riot.
This life we all know is a short one,
While some tongues are long, heaven knows,
And a miserable life is a husband's
Who numbers his wife with his foes;
I'll stay at home now like a true man,
Oh, my wife is a most knowing woman.
Francie Lynch Feb 2019
I don't recall year one of life,
But I'm here now,
So they got it right.
Yet I remember being one,
On a mattress, in the sun,
The smell of bacon and farm odors,
Were part of me as I grew older.

But I never asked to grow up.

I walked first steps
In my father's shoes,
Blathered blissfully when I was two.

By the time I turned three,
I was sure youth suited me.

I could reach the outside door,
When I grew to the age of four.
Now the world's mine to explore.

But I never asked to grow older.

Then by five I tried to hide
From the travails of an older child;
The digging, weeding, painting, work:
My escape to school was my re-birth.

But I never asked to grow older.

I didn't ask to turn six,
Seven, eight, nine or ten;
I shuddered at our  portends,
I didn't like how my world ends,
I finished fishing with Amens.

But I never asked to grow older.

I made twenty years ago,
When decades moved ever so slow;
Thirty came, forty gone,
And fifty didn't last that long.

But I never asked to grow older.

Since I must,
Please remember,
Dip my soother in Irish whiskey,
Include me if you solve the mystery,
And reference me and my life's history.
Nora Jan 2021
Meticulously maintaining
Impossibly feigned nonchalance,
Toying the cigarette ever so slightly
In her fingers -- careful so not
To appear as too calculated

The pariahs parade the dancefloor,
Shades of ignominy culminating in a
Prismatic rainbow, heightened by
The stale odor of ***** and body heat

Still, she stays in her perch like a silent sphynx
Waiting -- watching --
Aimlessly, but with direction, such
Carefree flamboyance below her,
A stoop to which she’d never deign

And so she watches, resigned
To fate, as much a fixture in the joint
As the gilded barstools --
The closest she can come to confronting
The fact that she is no different
Than any of the rest
After so many years, finally attempting to resume my cinematic poetry project — this one based on 1934’s WONDERBAR, as easily inferred
Lawrence Hall May 2019
A wanderer came upon the mysterious sphynx
“Stranger, stand still, if you would choose to live;
I ask each passerby what he knows and thinks,
Thus now I ask a riddle, so stand and give.”

The wanderer answered her rightly that day

And then

The treacherous sphynx devoured him anyway
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
Geno Cattouse May 2013
I'm back at the grind feeling mad as a hatter.
Still floating on. A poetry carpet.

No friction or pressure or fear I will fall.
Swooping and turning my belt is unbuckled.

Standing with toes hanging off.
Hands out for balance.
What the hell rhymes with balance.

Oh. Ladies and gentlemen if you look to your right
Niagra falls is a vision at night.

There goes a guy on your left on a rug.
Pass me a ***** driver so I can debug.

We will be landing in fifteen minutes.
In. Front of the sphynx.

After that captain sully sullivan is going to take the wheel.
The carpet guy is going down on a wing and A prayer.

Then back to his house for a much needed nap.
Good night and sweet dreams.
Pagan Paul Jun 2024
I am birthed from an egg in the forbidden land,
standing proud I stretch my arms out wide.
I open my eyes and open my heart,
emoting memories pour into my cold mind.
And the flames, and the flames and the sacred flames.
carry me out to the infinite stars of knowledge,
to where the Twin Goddesses of Truth
petition the serpent to deceive the future.
The barge of the Gone Forever sails past
and it bows its bows to the flail and the sceptre,
turquoise and gold with the face of millennia,
its image forever burnt into my countless lives.
I, Mighty One of Enchantment,
now fly from the shell that holds my long sleep
to the thirteenth direction of my smile.
And the flames, and the flames and the sacred flames.

I beseech and invoke, with secret Words of Power,
the hidden wisdoms of the ancient spell.
I scribe, weighing words in their charm
to call forth the Magic of the Dark Night.
And the flames, and the flames and the sacred flames
of he who abides throughout all time,
consume me with a thousand thousand names,
and make me the Lord of All Laws.
All Hail! to the girdle of the stars.
All Hail! to the secret glyphs.
Guide my journey through the eternal time
and take my Sphynx as your devoted sacrifice.
I, Mighty One of Enchantment,
now sail my boat of millions of years
to the thirteenth direction of my smile.
And the flames, and the flames and the sacred flames.
I posted half this poem before, but have written a second stanza so now posting the full version that will be recorded, added to a soundscape and released later this month.
Bows N' Arrows Jul 2015
Striving to be better humored than the weather round me,
Caressing Its cheek as it sternly speaks.
Sick of the mendacity;
I'm ignoring the storms hollowed shrieks.
Are we slaves to sensation,
Donning obsessive ***** eyes,
Who praise the fallen pioneers who stalked their own demise?
Are we all alone and lost inside;
Devoid of all sense
Of foreseeable purpose?
Hushed cryptic words through an emerald mine;
Oblivious to the surrounding eminence.
Can't say how long this will last,
Itching desires, searing deep within;
Continuing backward on this destructive path.
Allow me freedom from my sins-
Let me reveal my secrets.
Velvet Elk Aug 2015
Does the silence choke you?
A reminder's vibration.

Just notes and beats
Rhythm and sphynx.

Missing and murdered
Missing or murdered
Thick off the tongue
Like tainted rivers.

Dubstep dreaming
So calm a feeling.
Sobriquet Jul 2017
Sphynx-like they move,
lions in the dark,
where they watch her
through hungy coals set in gaunt faces,
licking their chops for her bones.

But she is a lion tamer,
with no more bones to spare the unfed worries yowling in her peripheral,
and a tinder spark now lives where the dark once crept
to keep their hunger at bay.
She's like a wolf with such  pretty eyes.*
But she's a woman with prettier thighs
Don't look to hard or she'll eat you up, you silly pup!
And what did you think?
Was she the pack mother or the canine sphynx?



We're all dead tonight thanks to the ebb of the tide. The moon smiles and squeals inside at the breath and the sight of our homicide.
If you asked the hungry, they'd say they're glad that we died
Because they feast on our flesh
On the Earth we are but guests.
Know your place lest you rest in a coffin lined with the sorrow of your regret and carved from branches of your potential. It's essential that you respect lady death.
Don't step out of line.
Step out of line your life is mine, the universe is mine. The stars and the heavens combined.
Francie Lynch May 2014
Roam my beach
Where proof gets stranded
With every inch of water.
I will keep my secret shelter
In the dunes.

Here I dig to cover
(As the Nile's favourites once endured)
Ones like me.
I think.
I too built my sphynx to oulast
The odds, the waves,
And time.

Past the lawns of lakeshore
The family still waits
For the feast.
As for the calf, save the leather.
Rings don't look good on me.
What will come from all the rejoicing.
Oh god!

My brothers, Jake and Ben, understand:
The inheritance was never mine alone.
Let the feast begin.
Save me a seat.
My feet tread the stones and my bones write the words which in other  words hurt and the hurt that I feel can't begin to conceal what I try to reveal but I can't.
There's a layby I walk by, but people don't lay there, don't stay there so what is it there for?  
is it there to confuse me with more words written freely?
In the precinct, so succinct, standing tall like an old Sphynx is a monument to testosterone, they call it the old folks home but there's no home for me there, I'm out in the town square, an old square in my own hole with a large hole in my right shoe and a bigger hole in my stomach, getting through it is easy, practice makes perfect and I've had plenty of that.
The stones become spongelike, the longer I write the softer they get, the softer they get the more that I write, it's a rite for me, a day and a night in the life of me where eternity is got to by catching the 3.43 from Euston to Peterlee.
If I sleep, I sleep lightly, frightened the monsters who fight me might win.
I see an end in the end or it may be a layby I pass by, shaking my head I go on wondering why.
Sous les draps de ta pyramide

On a vue en 3D sur la mangrove

Rhomboïde

De rhizomes entrelacés

À perte de vue.

Et j'essaie le sabre aux lèvres

Grâce à mon géo-radar

De me frayer un chemin dans le feu inextricable

Vers ta chambre nuptiale

D'eau enchevêtrée d'éclairs et de lave en fusion.

Sous les draps de ta pyramide

J'emprunte ta face Nord

À travers une oubliette à l'abri des regards

Des crabes et des salamandres

J'emprunte la descenderie

Et au bout du couloir

Me voici à l'antichambre

Et un sphynx exige de moi un mot de passe

Pour accéder au nec plus ultra de tes entrailles.

Et je dis : soldat du feu !

Et ce que je croyais être un simple feu de broussailles

De mangle rouge momifié

Se révèle un feu de jungle folle

Où sauterelles et criquets grésillent

Sous les flammes humides de ta chrysalide.

Et j'ouvre ma pompe et j'arrose

De mon eau de rose ton sanctuaire

De fleur de grenade inviolée

Et je comble ta faim

D'un bon mortier fait de venin de sable et de sève d'argile

Montante et descendante

Que tu dégustes en te pourléchant les lèvres.

Pour ne pas en perdre une miette.
Vampyre Kato May 2016
944
Open Your Eyes To The Pain
Im Breaking Limbs
Reahing For Change
I Will Not Pretend
Perfections In
Shrooms Bloom Questions
I Can't Feel My Brain
I Don't Know If I'm Stressing
I Feel It All
I Pay Attention
I Don't Have Wish Wash Words
To Quick Sqaush Verbs
I'm Face To Face With The Curb
Like Clipped Wings & A Bird
I'm Still Trying
Senations Statements
I Feel Like Dying
I'm Getting A Viloen
Eye Lids Cant Handle Any More Crying
Years Of Tears Pierce
Fierce On My Strong Facem, Iris
I Need To Meditate
You Hella Fake
Stay The **** Away
Real Connections Are Always There
I'm A Ghost In Smoke I Always Stare
No Disquesie My Eyes
Shine I Died Inside
& I Want To Share
Nights Are Very Dark
They Tear Me Apart
Where Is The Spark
I'm Cold As Dusk
& Its Not Fair
In The Kitchen
Wishing Some One Was Here
Gazeing At The Table Blade
It Rains On This Chair
I Will No Longer Not Speak Up
Even It Gets Me Beat Up
Fear Doesn't Reach Us
Plus IF I Projected This Chi
It Would Decapitate Head & Feet
Hands & Knees
Only Mother Earth
& Father Sky's Can Handle
Me
I'm Made Of Matter That Matters
There's Blood On My Matress
My Ego Decays
As My Last Day Hatches
Im A ******* Spy
All Seeing Eye
Sphynx Cat
That's It
I'm Going In
Head First No Gear
I'm Ready To Die
There's Never Been A Time In My Life That I Cry No Tears
The Pain Is Deeper Than The Sea Floor
I Know I Need Grounding
I Bleed Surrounding To See More
I Want To Be A Day It Self
Or A See Horse
I Got Shreaded Wings
& These Thorns
Electrical Be 4
Camilla Peeters Oct 2018
so drop me
spit me
taste me trench-like
tear away at the restraints
they call the borders
devour the borders

apostel
do not feed me insulation
parade thee wide piped

rain-dropped down locks
in window reflection
functionally i become fur
keep thee warm

she sees she sees
she statutes stoically

every day i pass the same
**** statue
of a cat
licking her paw

she sees she sees
she knows endurance
Johnny Noiπ Feb 2018
the old live-*** shows on Time Square remind me of transgressive Performance Art. Public mind *******. Sounds like a blast.
The infant princeling left to fend in the wild wilderness;
it's pretty awesome at that.
You make me surprise myself,
she said up on her small haunches; her perfect Persian eye kaleidoscopic yes yes yes

how's that?


I can't remember anymore. If I do, I'll tell you about it.
I'd like to unwrap u like a gift; surprises are the face mystery wears in public.
Oedipus felt his strength increasing; called before the Olympian beside the likes of Prometheus, Theseus, Jason and Heracles, Hermes and Dionysus; chosen as immortal constellations; Oedipus the King;
his soul wandering over Egyptian sands; he hears her;
Her voice is sweet like a song
"I'm sitting here wondering if that's brilliant or ridiculous. I guess I'll just call it ridiculously brilliant."
That will likely not be the last time i say that to you.
Don't let it be the last; I love being both ridiculous & brilliant.

Peering in her crystal she says: "You don't let it be the last."  
As if you would attend the marriage of dadaism & quantum theory
cat licking her paw purrs
I don't even know what that means, but it's sweet that you thought I would.
ur not knowing is sweet; I'd say more but I think this is where we would not know together in the cloud of unknowing of the mystery of the unsaid in the suspense of discovery.
Blinking in the sunlight, she says: "Is that your poetic way of telling me you said something, and don't even know what it meant?" the knowingly unsaid said knowingly
"Are you ******?"
not particularly, he replied.
"Must be just me."
Now it was Oedipus who blinked; must be or maybe together we're a puzzle wrapped in a riddle.
I think we got each other figured out, she said.
I feel like Oedipus to ur Sphinx he said.
I'm not sure I remember the correlation said she.
the correlation of what?
Oedipus and Sphinx
okay...
Universe Poems Jun 2021
Bastet also called Bast,
Ancient Egyptian goddess,
worshiped in the form,
of a lioness,
and, later a cat,
which was the norm
The time of Pharaohs,
Sphynx,
realm of Ancient Egypt thinks
Life saving companions,
they were drawn to worship them
Magical creatures they saw,
capable of bringing good luck,
to people who housed them,
and, more
You'd think from the name,
this was the fame,
that this is an ancient breed,
hailing from Egypt's seed,
and, the time,
of the Pharaohs indeed,
but they're not from this time shot
The breed's origins are actually,
from Canada's spot
In 1966, mutant hairless male kitten,
named Prune,
was born in February,
to the Amethyst birthstone bloom
However most Sphynx cats,
born in the present day Stats,
descended from three,
hairless kittens,
with Toronto mittens
They were 1978
Bambi, Punkie,
and, Paloma
Roaming the streets,
of Canada's biggest city
Lucky kitty


© 2021 Carol Natasha Diviney
Johnny Noiπ Feb 2018
Stalking the beautiful creature
Oedipus climbs the rocky hill
she is waiting to sample his wares;
Oedipus brings candy to the ancient
howling goddess; she loves sweet chocolate
and candied fruit his bag full; creeps
into her cave & ***** her in her apneic sleep:
it is the most primal moment on earth;
shaking the queen to bitter pieces
still she is the queen flowers emerging
from her ****; her **** in flower
until the fall & crisp winds toil around
her scarred walls scared as Shaman
songs to the sea; believe in the one;
the one who can see the winds;
no one can see the wind; love
in a dark city of islands of light;
love in a castle buried long ago
Johnny Noiπ Feb 2018
Jesus was Hector in sandals &
armor the story of a man & his cat;
greatest fighter fallen by Achilles
we were sitting on a high hill
in Central Park & it began to shower;
looking into her eyes we ran
for the shade of a tree drenched
in sunlight; Jesus was Hector in
sandals & armor fighting to the last;
his blood squeezed out like a spigot
Andromache cries for fallen Hector;
sad cat licking his broken body;
Hector is dead she wails life's
fleeting ghost in a bassinet carried
by Muses through the clouds into
Egyptian tombs where u lay awake
pacified by mummy's showroom
dummy in strapless go-go bra &
strutting Sphynx in starry g-string
Graff1980 Nov 2020
I am useless.
A pathetic ******,
that talks a lot
of poetic *******,
but seldom ever
lives up to it.

I’ve been crawling
scrawling
weird drawings
on my dark cave mind,
keeping primitive
images
poorly defined
so, I can change
their meaning
anytime
I like.

I am tired,
too weary
for this dreary
twilight,
counting down
with the
Clockwork Sphynx
who thinks
we all stink,
so he stopped asking riddles,
and started riffing
while sniffing
sandy breezes
till he sneezes
and breathes out
more doubt.

This is pointless,
I am just dust,
not even worth enough
to get me up
when I’d rather just
lay down and sleep. cont.

What is even the point
of me?

— The End —