In Our Beginning:
Once on a clear summer's day
Mid August, three minutes
Past the hour of Fourteen
A B.C. Prince encountered a tramp
Her name was Margot, for
She was hairy with gills
She sang of frogs and Vaseline
And slept on blades of Ether
They became married two days
After Heaven caught fire
And made love on Fabergé pillows
Until the prince came and hung
Himself from a weeping willow.
Vida:
Is there a limit to life?
such as and such is this view.
Inconsistent heresies and hallowed Icons.
Gods and demons swim in the lotus pool,
followed by ugly and hated attendants.
Beasts call out names,
as the children live for games.
And one is central and nearly toppled.
A belief which persists inspite of itself.
Falsehood living through every age.
Men and Animals are ensared by it's luscious promises.
And where oh where is it?
Hidden amongst the poplar trees?
A phantom above a self-defecated system?
Or just the great and awesome proposer of purpose?
Insignificant and lithe,
a cherry from a scarred branch.
I and I find no remorse,
no solitude,
and no hatred of hope.
Just for hope.
You see, life is the heresy.
Oh can you feel the stones falling,
my Epicures?"
Bab-Ilu:
You stand there as
A memory of Babylon
In mock reverence of old
A nouveau-ancien ruin
You count the days and times
Like a sad, sundry sundial
And pikid shadoes scar
Your haughty altars and heights
O' temple to the god nouveau-riche
Sacrificer of fertile imaginations
Your edifice grows taller as
The hungry backs break beneath
Kadima, ya ish!:
Man, o hallowed man!
Are you not beloved?
G-d and creation
Sing your praises
O man, I watch you always
You strive to be like gods
And come out repulsive, dead
Like the gods you imagine
O man, you ask for love
You ask for knowledge
But with your soul, your lust
You want simple death and fucking
Man, o hallowed man!
May we all be like you
What happy gods, humanity
O Bacchulus, enlighten me
O man, creator of worlds
Make for me a paradise
A vast nothingness, a not
Where I can be everything
Tags: poems baal babylon nothingness blashpemes
3490 a.m. ,העיר קרת חדשת
The city of Carthage, 270 b.c.e
A Plea to Milqart:
And I call out with frost bitten hands
Death, o' Death! Mother and father of eternity
Sacred sight from an unloved forgotten deity
Give to me your sickly sweet gift called love
A gift I take in order to reject and mock
Do unto me this common favour that you hold
Save nothing from me, o' progenitor of life
Milqart, sad Milqart, I sing your praise for poison
Give me this so I may be troubled and vexed
Deliver me into the hands of that which I hate
Keep from me peace of mind, a whole heart
Save me from clarity, happiness, and spirit
Tup me, fuck me over, o' sad master Death
Call me your bitch, your love, o' father of flies
Let me have my misguided desires appear and wilt
Allow me to swim in love's grotesque logic
A Greek Harbour:
Internal rupturing of insignificant vassals
New Days are waking a modern night
Hovering over wilted branches like flies
Oracles spin tales of mad-driven heroes
Cancer engulfs us from shore to horizon
Saints are searching for the death of innocence
I and I see nothing but vanities in Heaven
Go now, my sweet sons of light and conquer
Neurotic bleating from the ruling common class
(Indigo sparkles made to remember a dead babe)
Opiates flow to and through our noblest empire
Veritable tapestries of elders' frightened falsehoods
Irreplaceable mourners screech out a whore's name
Noble papa Peter is ashamed of our new Rock
Constantine, Constantine! Save us from ignorance!
Erect for us a statue of a hated race's king
So we may sing of blood on a Moorish day.
Tags: poems milqart greek blashpemes
I wrote this last year. It's based on a true event in my life, in fact,
the biggest mistake I ever made. Although it didn't happen exactly this
way, and these words were never spoken. But this all did happen it its
own way, unfortunately I realised to late. Also, you will notice that
the writing seems a tad archaic... I read a lot of Kahlil Gibran,
that's my only excuse. Also, I use one Hebraic metaphor I don't think
Westerner's will get. I'll not say what it is to see if any can spot it.
He
came to the party hoping to see her. He waited patiently for her,
amidst the "children", drunken and drugged. A friend between her and
him told him where to find her. He opened the door with a smile, closed
it with a tear.
She was on a bed, a bed which killed souls and
forbade truth. She laid there with a boy atop her, moaning as if he
were G-d's own son, but his was a false name. In that moment her eyes
flashed from "hollowed" pleasure to sacred guilt. Whilst the one named
for laughter saw Hell. As the door slammed she pushed away her boy and
ran to beg forgiveness.
She found the betrayed setting atop a
counter, with his eyes looking into a deep abyss within himself. Into
the same spot she once filled. He could hear her voice, but could no
longer see her face.
"Who am I to you?", he asked. "Am I not the one
that loves you, that protects you? Have I never given you joy that you
must go to boys to find yourself?"
Looking down she replied, "You... I do love you, but you left me, you went across the waters and I felt you had forgotten me."
He
looked toward her. "Did I not say I would return, you know my word is
my bond. Now I do not know if you doubted me, or if you never loved me.
G-d... How I love you, But if I could love could love any other than
you... Someone true, someone faithful. My love is a curse and yours I
have never known."
With his eyes closed she approached and tried to
comfort him. "Why do you turn me away?" I love you, I have always loved
you. But you left me when I begged you to stay." At once she realized
everything. "You loved yourself on that day! How dare you curse me for
wanting just a little love when I had none. How dare you say you love
me when you left to find yourself in another land, I wanted you to find
yourself with me! I loved you then, and even now. Can not the greater
sinner look past my little sin?"
At that moment he and G-d cried.
For his punishment was just. He spoke no words, yet his lips moved as
if in prayer. Thoughts moved as secret whispers to his G-d... And to
his goddess he looked for forgiveness. Can one blame another for
wanting love?
Tags: yitzhakofeir elohi hallelu_hu
