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Marieta Maglas Jul 2012
Land-mark times of
uncertainty and imbalance, new
paradigms for hearts and minds,
flowers growing through stone cracks,
unconscious becoming conscious,
interconnectedness
between pieces of this cosmic puzzle, where
God means the Wisdom of simplicity in
human untapped depths of wisdom, fear
as a primal universal human reality
on the edge of extinction and breakthrough
power to change the outcome
the synchronization of the nature and the existence,
time of unspeakable intensity,
human awaking,
the higher and the deeper dimension of being,
Black Road or Xibalba Be,
energy shifts,
day in its sacred Zero point,
mass ejections shooting highly,
nuclear bulge of the Milky Way,
huge waves,
cosmic alarm clock ringing in human psyche,
time of change
leaving seeds for the future,
spiral evolution,
being in-between two important seconds
with minds founded in duality,
teetering between the
extremes of extinction and illumination...
Lucy Tonic Nov 2011
Boastful cat
Saturn rain
Night is dull
Dull blades still slay
City craves rustic sway
And these white houses
Are the grave
(Thunder brings a night of lust
Christmas lights are empty trust)
Should've been a raindog time
But the clouds had fate for eyes
Someone shot a feverish arrow
And laughed as I went blind

Pink room
Red womb
Blackened heart
***** spoon


Opened my eyes -- The mirror fooled and did tricks on me -- Pelicans and temporary ghosts -- Like a pleasant phantom come to visit -- Until it reared its ugly head and showed its face -- It took all my grace -- Swan lake -- Sky high -- Pace and word -- Makes clear as it distorts -- No war and peace -- Foes and cohorts -- Just everything you've adored and everything they'll abhor -- And nothing more -- Should have put thoughts on paper -- Couldn't hold a pen -- Three days of geometric chaos -- And a lifetime of no symmetry -- Should have never reentered the cave -- Shadows on the walls -- Filled with tattooed luck -- Now I'm Cecilia in a bathtub -- Waiting for the inevitable -- With demons on my shoulders -- Incubi atop me -- Genies above me -- Elves behind me -- Dirt below me -- And cult claws on my walls -- Stuck in symbol-land with constant mock cymbals -- TV laugh-track plays every step I take -- Sterile and over-sensitive -- Can't ever get numb -- Screaming babies and French sirens -- Eureka's ball court -- Xibalba's darkhouse -- Doomed to rot -- Would've aced the other tests -- Eating glass -- Metnal mental -- Raggedy Ann -- .Extravagant *** -- Yellow wallpaper on every face -- Painted blue for sacrifice -- Puppet overnight -- Trying to gut truth -- But so far the mystagogues have webbed tongues -- And the angels all have angles --
Borges Jun 2014
Inciertitud de poemas,
movimientos de libros,
lodo y popol vuh,
sabios y templos
sin ojos, solo.

Sabiduria crea problemas,
de crear a creadores,
vientre de sapo,
que ilumina el
silencio de Xibalba.
Dioses Diosas
Borges Jun 2014
Savior that momento thou meanest man,
thou should knowest if this play it,
could I see if I can,

how sorrowfull is that time,
proclibities in Xibalba,
el Popul Vuh y la calma,

el examen de Julio,
y el invierno de Russia,
y la cara de nadie,

lo sustantivo y lo exacto,
futura experimenta recuerdas
mis manos, como no te ignore,
controlas mi fé,

Adultos se volveran poemas,
y los ojos veran atraves de
mañanas las terminables
distancias de encontrables
intructores.

Mañana
Libros Ficciones
Tom Shields Jun 2020
How many miles warp the landscape?
She sits in the nook by her window, wondering
etching a portrait of the bounty to come
the rows of stalks, now she is of age
that she will enter the grain silo
her soul is endeared, there is no fear
they begin the harvest before dawn tomorrow

There is peace like she has never felt before,
knowing her destiny is to give back to the earth
and she is ready to do this and more
but in the darkness, the dead of night
outside her bedroom a faint flash of light
the oldest brother comes, his face sullen and white
he's determined to take her away,
he won't let her have this day
in the darkness, the dead of night
she strikes him, he's jealous he wasn't chosen
he turns heel in flight
but there is no escape, father awaits
with mother, brothers, sisters, by his side
"It is time." His penetrating glare, silver eyed
"You will rid your sister of this husk."  Words that strip him naked of his pride

Father's false leg is silent against the floorboards
across the fields the dozens gather
they follow the ascendant light of the son, hushed, no words
the only spark of life is the cigar father puffs, faced with these silo fumes, he too would rather-
she bolts across the catwalk and disrobes in preparation
his torch extinguished, he dives to stop her embracing annihilation
and all is too dark to see, too quiet to hear, she falls for seconds towards the surface of the grain
he lays, face down, hand extended with her night dress clutched in his fist
she lays on her back, impacted on the crust and broken inside and out, every breath is a feverish pain
she needs to sink, if she doesn't she will have done this all only for the maize
long after he should have gone, he looks down at her and stays
her fingertips claw gently at the deepest crack, she's determined to get back

Her legs protruding outward
spine broken, ribs stabbing hard inward
her skull broken, blood leaking over
bowels pierced, organs exploded, it's all over
not one tear, no weakness enters here
she exhales with force, no fear
and pushes herself into the abyss
with her dying breath, into the clear
the others ascend, sensing the fatality
only then do they hear
she's engulfed in the grain, only then do they see
she's screaming in pain, still alive, as she blesses the corn
all the way down, her journey continues, they open the auger
drain her through, collect the limbs and flesh rended, one eye sunken into her head, one shot with unbridled rage and scorn
never had anyone survived, many musclebound mortals
many agile men had walked the grain
hundreds have made the sacrifice,
they carry what is left of her off into the night
father places his hand on his oldest son

Clouds in the distance, thunder and lightning
no rain upon them, father puts his cigar out in the son's face
burning the bridge of his nose until it looks as out of place
as the deep scars and rings under either eye
he snatches the dress from his fist, and declares this lie
"Two more of us have become who they were, you see he never sleeps now and why?
For he journeys through the underworld every night, with his fire alight to guide us through when we die.
My Nocturnal Son."

From a window the young sister watches
forgotten, connected to machines as years wither
she sees her brother take them to the silo
her face turned forever towards the window
she watches as even the stars lose their glow
and the dead join her in presence
as they have yesterday, will today and tomorrow.
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— The End —