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"themis" poems
Métis, Themis, Ma’at, their banter was for naught. All the tides and tithings wisdoms and their teachings, Daemonium forgot! But the heavens cry  manna as Nix cried out reprieve! An act that loosed the flood, the chaos of her sea. Her pain arose a champion to tend to all her needs, Formed of Celestial Ocean he bore down on the freed. A giant wave of madness, thrusting mist of sadness eradicating gladness... One led the ruthless breed. Opaque in their beginning, formless shapes in twining. Conjoined but not together, accompanied the weather. Thalassa’s stringy tether wrapped them all forever. Come or go in seasons, live or die in age. No Spring to Fall in reasons, travailing of the mage? Black tentacles the streamers, rooted into wave. Witness the all-wise and snaking phantom phage... Chiron watches while he prances, his dressage on the shore. Arising liminal of beings wettened ambiguity of yore. Even Iblis is impressed, such black rotten to the core! Merkabah or egg, mountain, belly, tree they squabble. All elements do I cobble, such are actions of the wobble.
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Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 7:28 PM UTC
The Flood
VIII. TO ARES (17 lines) (ll. 1-17) Ares, exceeding in strength, chariot-rider, golden- helmed, doughty in heart, shield-bearer, Saviour of cities, harnessed in bronze, strong of arm, unwearying, mighty with the spear, O defence of Olympus, father of warlike Victory, ally of Themis, stern governor of the rebellious, leader of righteous men, sceptred King of manliness, who whirl your fiery sphere among the planets in their sevenfold courses through the aether wherein your blazing steeds ever bear you above the third firmament of heaven; hear me, helper of men, giver of dauntless youth! Shed down a kindly ray from above upon my life, and strength of war, that I may be able to drive away bitter cowardice from my head and crush down the deceitful impulses of my soul. Restrain also the keen fury of my heart which provokes me to tread the ways of blood-curdling strife. Rather, O blessed one, give you me boldness to abide within the harmless laws of peace, avoiding strife and hatred and the violent fiends of death.
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The Homeric Hymns: 8- To Ares
XVIII Cyriack, whose Grandsire on the Royal Bench Of Brittish Themis, with no mean applause Pronounc’t and in his volumes taught our Lawes, Which others at their Barr so often wrench: To day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench In mirth, that after no repenting drawes; Let Euclid rest and Archimedes pause, And what the Swede intend, and what the French. To measure life, learn thou betimes, and know Toward solid good what leads the nearest way; For other things mild Heav’n a time ordains, And disapproves that care, though wise in show, That with superfluous burden loads the day, And when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.
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Sonnet 18
XXIII. TO THE SON OF CRONOS, MOST HIGH (4 lines) (ll. 1-3) I will sing of Zeus, chiefest among the gods and greatest, all-seeing, the lord of all, the fulfiller who whispers words of wisdom to Themis as she sits leaning towards him. (l. 4) Be gracious, all-seeing Son of Cronos, most excellent and great!
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The Homeric Hymns: 23- To the Son of Cronos, Most High
and i do not know how to describe it their doors are decorated with wreaths and flowers like a welcoming symphony a philharmonic of hospitality their lights are always on at the right time and it seems that they are friendly to the environment because their solar panels gleam like a diamond catching the light at the perfect time they pile into the car in the morning with three beautiful children prim and proper the husband looks as if he is something out of a magazine and his wife resembles themis carrying daily the flames of passion but the neighbors next door look sad maybe it's just me but when i wave, they do not wave back they do not even smile the neighbors next door seem rude to those who pass but i understand because everyone wants to talk about the neighbors next door when they don’t realize that they are the neighbors next door too.
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Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 1:49 AM UTC
theres something weird about the neighbors next door
XXI Cyriac, whose grandsire on the royal bench Of British Themis, with no mean applause Pronounced and in his volumes taught our laws, Which others at their bar so often wrench; Today deep thoughts resolve with me to drench In mirth, that after no repenting draws; Let Euclid rest and Archimedes pause, And what the Swede intends, and what the French. To measure life learn thou betimes, and know Toward solid good what leads the nearest way; For other things mild Heav’n a time ordains, And disapproves that care, though wise in show, That with superfluous burden loads the day, And, when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.
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Sonnet 21
I walked into the garden and gave Themis my flower. She said, “now you know they’ll lock up men of any age in my name, thirsty as they are” I said, “what am I to do, to hold back the flood tide? Scratching out a living with steel wool cyanide, the champion of beggars and thieves, scoundrels and knaves” She smiled and said, “you’ve got to find your way home” I took her by my side, held her in my arms, looking deep into her dark eyes, “I’m lost", I said, “and you know what I’m dreaming" "I’m empty and aching, and I don’t know where to go.” She looked on me in silence, ragged tears forming in the corners of our eyes. Emotion swelling in our heart spring, somehow, I knew, I must take upon the open road. We parted at the gate separating my father’s mansion from the path to the wood. She was imprinted upon my soul. The flower wilted, petals one by one, falling to the floor.
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Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 5:40 PM UTC
Steel Wool Cyanide
Between judging the good and the dead, I lose myself in the cacophony of lies, made my men, Amid the hustling and jostling of interests, lies and deceit I scream! my voice is muffled by a black cloth, which covered eyes of Themis, now unfurled, tied my voice, So, none can hear, my cries, I am a man, I have a spirit, my bliss cannot live in lies and deceit! I lose myself, split of a second, A place where I find solace for my heart, Split second of servitude for God, And that is enough! To lead me away from temptations! I look at men in blood, fresh, for petty wealth, and I see God! I look at black coats, standing for Good and evil for wealth, and I see God! Who am I to judge? I see and witness unfurling of time, and my mind rests at His foot! For all is lights and shadow! I am at peace, being a witness of His work. Om Tat Sat! © Saurya 7th Jan 21
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Jan 7, 2021
Jan 7, 2021 at 1:47 AM UTC
Sitting by robes of Raguel
An empty urn, the barren bowl, a vase awaiting one pregnant rose A table barren of knight's tableau, stools surrounding in retched repose An earthen mug, Pan's pool in spring, a coin no longer worth its weight Each grounded in its reason, spherically precluding its sin— That ringing at the gate A life-lived-not falters, yet blindly clings to fate, blind Themis holds in balance still, the cup— She chose too late
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Sep 25, 2015
Sep 25, 2015 at 12:37 PM UTC
The Belled Gate
Twisted and bent over By just the thought of it; Why rapture must come With such intolerable cruelty The Gods only know. They wield us like toys in A careless game of wits for some bemusement If I Were to dare and venture forth to find the golden chord and climb up to the stairway of heaven; I would pluck the very eyes of Athena and Themis and swap them in kind So they may see eachothers minds And cast upon it a blessing cured of this sickly and ravaged Regretted remorse that bodes In the hearts and souls of weak men. The shame travels in cycles the pain is constant broken only by fleeting moments Of hope and regretful longings. I Sailed with this ship of fools To find the golden fleece Knew full well that The ends of the world Will still fail to appease. there is no god or immortal That I serve except this tainted love; And yet, the unrighteous lover Renews my faith in love? **** the gods for making a device of heart so voracious And easily spaced for the fitting of loves and pain, duty and honor and every other cruel twisted trick tied by a harp string That tugged at will could test the thresholds That torment always breaks. Keep your gods and Masters of cruel fates I will follow none And will wait for death till I row the strokes to bring that of the netherworld and beyond, Just to find and ****** in zeuses Wretched heart the one he gave me by his stake And watch him melt and burn and suffer Twisted over and bent finally to understand his cruel mistake
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Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 1:23 AM UTC
Ancient Wrath of hearts
" The light we dread on the path we tread, Scorched by the morals we misuse. Misread the darkness, our hearts distressed, Mocked by the values we choose, Led astray by the prophecies of disharmony. Heralds of the Righteous, deaf to hideous cries, Sombre pleas linger, unseen in the abyss. Angels seek refuge in hell from our treachery, Watching disdainfully the absurdity we create, While Demons, now praying for salvation, Witness the tragic fall of humanity. Instruments of war masquerade as peace, Tormenting the innocent’s fragile ease. A nation built on unity’s roar, Now silenced by the lies of the false majority, As citizens, evicted by leaders once upheld, Fall victim to the very mother they served. The tranquil ocean of individuals, Swept away by the puddle of atrocities. The gavel of justice hammers the innocent, While the illustrious clowns, adorned in lustrous lies, roam free. As avatars of Themis fall to Eris' tempting kiss, Our heroes, once righteous, now stab us in the back with monarchic bliss. While the poor laugh abundantly at their chains, The rich weep for sovereignty that wanes. Failure is the epitome of success, While schools terrify us to death, Teaching the race between ending a valuable life And the finish line of a hollow diploma. Yet in hallowed halls, they preach dismay, As arguments and debates suffocate the air, In this world already choked by toxic despair. The masks of leadership conceal deceit, As false ideals march beneath victory's flag. And when the hands that build also destroy, Philosophy, once pure and guiding, Now teaches Angels the art of demonology. " -Klausyuer: The ****** Poet
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Oct 9, 2024
Oct 9, 2024 at 8:41 PM UTC
Heralds of Absurdities
" The light we dread on the path we tread, Scorched by the morals we misuse. Misread the darkness, our hearts distressed, Mocked by the values we choose, Led astray by the prophecies of disharmony. Heralds of the Righteous, deaf to hideous cries, Sombre pleas linger, unseen in the abyss. Angels seek refuge in hell from our treachery, Watching disdainfully the absurdity we create, While Demons, now praying for salvation, Witness the tragic fall of humanity. Instruments of war masquerade as peace, Tormenting the innocent’s fragile ease. A nation built on unity’s roar, Now silenced by the lies of the false majority, As citizens, evicted by leaders once upheld, Fall victim to the very mother they served. The tranquil ocean of individuals, Swept away by the puddle of atrocities. The gavel of justice hammers the innocent, While the illustrious clowns, adorned in lustrous lies, roam free. As avatars of Themis fall to Eris' tempting kiss, Our heroes, once righteous, now stab us in the back with monarchic bliss. While the poor laugh abundantly at their chains, The rich weep for sovereignty that wanes. Failure is the epitome of success, While schools terrify us to death, Teaching the race between ending a valuable life And the finish line of a hollow diploma. Yet in hallowed halls, they preach dismay, As arguments and debates suffocate the air, In this world already choked by toxic despair. The masks of leadership conceal deceit, As false ideals march beneath victory's flag. And when the hands that build also destroy, Philosophy, once pure and guiding, Now teaches Angels the art of demonology. " -Klausyuer: The ****** Poet
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The first daughters of cosmos queens and princesses of the world and worlds to come. Theia the wide shinning creator of light. Rhea mother of the gods the eternal flow mother of us all. Themis the just one keeper of wisdom counsellor of Cosmos. Mnemosyne keeper of memory mother of the nine Muses. Phoebe the cold crowned, the prophet. All bright she was as hope in mortals hearts. Tethys the purifier the blessed water that nourishes the earth from man's distortion.
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Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 6:34 AM UTC
Titaness
Spit out the blood Sniff your snot dry Wash yourself in the greywater behind the jungle gym Try not to cry Silent son of Themis Lays cold on the floor Staring at his arms Red and raw His sides are bruised and ugly, Shades of blue purple and yellow, He asks his mom for blueberry custard She says no.
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Jun 7, 2022
Jun 7, 2022 at 5:56 AM UTC
Blueberry Custard
The paths crossed in a way, Just like seeing the sun on a bright shiny day . Imagining situations like finding a needle in a hay . Can I stop the time and save it as my cache ? I am gonna take my time and just disobey , The past experiences which haunts me in the nights and these ****** days . This day doesn't feels like as my everyday . oh look ! I found someone , just like me gazing at the stars , coiffe Finding where I am lost , Would have been good , if it was a dream I would say . Silence screams now as if it's its payday . Not in a court , being judged , staring at the Themis where she would sway. long time , haven't seen myself around the things for which I used to pray . The paths crossed in such a way , Ah ! in the end I am gonna be just okay , Yes, just okay ..........
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Aug 24, 2022
Aug 24, 2022 at 1:13 PM UTC
Themis and the weighs .
In the ethereal realm, where Themis holds sway, A cosmic ballet of justice, a metaphorical play. Yet, in our earthly sphere, reflections intertwine, Empower women—the catalysts of progress divine. Like Themis, with scales, a celestial display, Let women’s worth twirl within the sunlit ray. Respect and recognition, whispered dreams unfold, A symphony of progress, a story yet untold. As Themis adorns the sacred tapestry of mythic lore, So too can women ascend, their voices galore. Grant them the stage, society’s sacred decree, Witness progress soaring, untethered and free.
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Jan 27, 2025
Jan 27, 2025 at 1:34 PM UTC
Themis’ Echo: Women as Architects of Change