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gods


It seems to me that these people are mistaken
when they claim to be at war against Satan,
because the God they worship is the God of Evil,
Destruction, Death, and Despair.
Yet, there are other gods with other values.
How did this group gain so much control over mankind?
Why do we hate our lives?



Pray for Violence


The God of Abraham
enjoys His Master tricks.
Calls Chosen men to violent
revenge against all fancied slights.
“They’re wicked – Smite!
Pillage their villages.
Rape their disgusting whores.
Make their acres yours in My sight,
in My glory. Give blood lust, My rightful
gory sacrifice. Pride is My reward
when your sons fight in My Name.
Pride can pay the price, replace shame.
I am no pansy, no prancing debutante
at Papa’s ball. I am no Mama’s man,
no Fate’s enthralled. I am the First, the
Prime, the All.”



Pluto's Wife/ Demeter's Daughter
 
 
Persephone, your will is free
Even as your living is in bondage
to forces much older in their power
You are free to reconcile your fractured life
Daughter in Summer's sun
smiling warmly, playing at innocence
with charms long practiced
Mother's Fool
Mother's Lamb
Saved from that horrible man --
Well, joint custody
Ever Her beloved child
While it is no secret
Down below you are honored Queen
among tortured souls ever needy of your
attentive care
Far from noblesse oblige, it is your
chosen career, though not chosen by you
Are you told enough:
"You do it proud." or even acknowledged
for the prowess your will gives existence?
Free Will, not Free Choice
It is learning to make of the whole sad cacophony
discrete instruments of harmony, of divine symphony
to find, realize, act with
impeccable integrity
as child or Queen
or someone between
 
 
 
Persephone's Worlds
 
 
I have wandered far from thoughtless girlhood,
am woman grown, a Queen
in my own right.
Yet I am treated with the expectations
of a mindless child
in my mother's Summer home.
The Gods are all agog with Zeus,
fickle, abrasive, free to take full stance
above the laws he so imperiously commands.
My Dark King is so much more a man,
sincere, deeply feeling, committed to his realm,
compassionate, if not always kind.
Yet, this season I must obey the crowd,
display charm and grace
in haute couture, make small, insipid
conversation with useless socialites
decorating Zeus' lawn parties.
Up here, life is meaningless,
All flash and doggerel
to amuse, O', do entertain us.
So tiring to endure the ennui.
Those not privy to opulent entitlement,
relegated to the dregs of servitude, or less
endure for their time, brutal, painful, short,
for no good reason.
I hear their horrid tales,
back in my rightful place and purpose.
Shrunken souls, shriveled by life time hungers
still growling beyond the grave.
I am balm and wise mother.
At last they matter, their stories opening in me
a marvelous passageway through which they are
taken into paradise.
My life above, the petulant daughter,
the pampered goddess spawn,
I endure coldly.
Summer's trivialities, properly obedient to
rituals of social condition,
know nothing of my true calling
under Winter's glory.



For Brigid’s Day


Who am i to bow to You --
me shorn of love, without honor;
You an enduring Goddess,
long honored for your bounty
of knowledge, thought’s ground water
poured, shared, carried forward.
Goddess of brides,
of hope, of visions, of poetry.
We who want a deeper future for ourselves,
more kind, more wise,
a better definition for humanity,
assemble on bended knees to
beg, accept, express your beauty.

Humans alive to art,
flow of mystic cavern seas,
can synergize, can command,
manifest as Magick.



Nyx,

Dark encircling

womb

Goddess of Night

from sacred firepit

feeds dreamers

the potency of stars'

cosmic light

concave distortion

reflecting

myth's shadow



Andromeda Unbound

Primal emergent scene of fear/betrayal/rage
Against prosaic life tuned to a simpler age
A woman and a man and progeny of course
A life tailored to plan, no stranger to remorse

So early in the days of what might hence occur
The learning of the ways of how to be are stirred
So legends have been cast, so myths in mist abound
As some realities are buried underground.

It was a cold and gilded house, camouflaged as home
It was a brutal game of chance camouflaged as life
Chain me to my jagged rock and let me bleed
Let the ravage start, I will not plead,
My tears will only flow when primed by raging seas

They say that life's a school, we must learn or die
They knock into us what, where, when, forgetting why
Each put into our place and left to wait our turn
It's not about what we may be, but what we earn.

Tree-lined sidewalks, car-lined streets, children at play
It seems so calm and peaceful, keeping fear at bay
Do the laundry, buy the groceries, pay the heating bills
Get it done, don't delay, no matter who it kills.

It was a curse hurled from the gods, but it wasn't mine
Punishment for a crime of pride I did not commit
Clinging to my prison door, I hide my eyes
Expecting no pardon from the skies
No where left to go to hide from my mind's lies

What can't be told infects a deep and deadly path
Buried wounds untended surface into storms of wrath
A beaten creature huddles beneath a snarling face
Dying for a welcome smile, the warmth of caring grace

Some doors left open lead to mystic hidden rooms
Of purple velvet drapes, plush carpets and rare perfumes
The tapestry of life upon an ancient wall
Or was it down a rabbit-hole you meant to fall?

I begged a chance to be saved, but it was not my time
The monster's howl a hungry hound denying rest
Lost in a tempest, finding none to care
Petrified by my own inward icy stare
Bound and cursed by the gods, of what use is prayer?

Comes the time in spiraling life of do or die
Take the time to breathe the air, read visions from the sky
Willing change, allowing pain to tell its sorry tale
Rearrange the picture's frame, learn to adjust the scale

The rules laid down to keep us bound were never friends
A hero's quest with divine intent can open stories' ends
Gods inspire nature's desire for beauty, healing, choice
Reclaiming heart, we do our part, obeying our true voice

Opening my eyes, raising my voice, I claim my power
The gods respond not with violence but with joy
Claiming my life as my own, I turn my demons into stone
Free at last my spirit soars as I
dance by day through sweet Olympian fields -- by night among the stars



Venus Guide Us to Peace
a meditative poem

Not just sweetness and light
There is a strength; there is conviction --
 there is a vibrant dedication to true worth.
If we can but believe again
in all the humane virtues --
Love is sharing,
in kindness, understanding, supportive regard.
Love is forgiving and being forgiven,
when it is clear that malice was not intended
or malice has been exorcised
-- an acceptance of the positive power
 of change, of growth in spirit.
Love is the assumption of "we."
We are doing being going having creating
We are able to exchange our labor, knowledge,
possessions, positions
We are able to take in more than I -- to synergize
 our fortunes into wealth and integral well being.
Love is not just a song -- a pretty set of symbols
Love is a power and a glory
and an all encompassing truth.
Love is addition and multiplication,
not division or subtraction.
Love enriches and inspires us.
Love is not blind, not foolish.
Love is not denying the self or self interest.
Love is seeing clearly, knowing wisely,
understanding and expanding the self --
expanding outward to take in the universe
 of interconnected, interdependent being.
Love sees the ugliness; and loves sees the beauty.
The ugliness saddens; the beauty invigorates.
Love is to peace as music is to harmony.
But how are we to love in a discordant world?
It is within us to pick out the true,
enduring melody
 to which our essential selves are tuned --
If we but look to, listen to, open our selves to
Venus, the Goddess of Love,
Peace, Justice, Harmony
 as she manifests within us all.



Prometheus Descending
 
 
Stealing fire from the gods
was but part of a process.
Thesis, antithesis, synthesis.
Long, complicated tales.
Heroism, challenge, reciprocity
stamped into squirming genes,
appearing again and again
through the ages.
My father's father's father and yours
farther and farther into mists
of antiquity
words said, positions taken.
Complicated tales unravel
knots in temporal rewind.
We see hero/villain
rearrange, reverse, reverently
bow each to the other.
 
Who is the thief? the victim?
What is this fire that it is not
equally shared
among the initiates
who understand the requirements
of its power?




Earth Goddesses
 
 
Ceres, mother of the Earth
Athena, of cerebral birth
Juno, queen of all the gods
Vesta, pure against all odds
Virgo woman, faith bequeaths you,
standing proud amongst your sheaths.
Cunning service, gifts of grace,
in all fields is your place.
Virtue’s reason, mind and soul,
You plant the seed. You help it grow.
You till the soil and prune and weed.
You are the soil. You are the seed.
 
A snow-white light on field's relief
reflects upon divine belief.
The image of a wishful star:
A steady shine -- but still so far.
The nights of hope; the days of pain.
And on and on, that old refrain.
We are the lung, the gut, the spleen.
We are all we've known, foretold and seen.
We are the truth that marches forth,
boldly speaks, rebukes false swords.



Ceres in Regalia
 
 
Call in the harvest
My Lady awaits (impatient
is She,
as all Immortals)
She sends cauldrons for tribute
on chariots of Moon lace --
dervishly risqué
stars sparkle celebration
 
We humbly attend, extend
ardent service. Gaily bless Sun and Earth,
nature’s noble accord.
 
Welcome Grand Goddess!
Indulge in dulcet fruits and glories
from Your largesse devotees’ labor hath wrought.
Love and Work
in pure adoration,
Her most gracious bestowals, our holiest
of offerings.



Churches


These myths about crosses, holy water, Christian artifacts, are in some sense amusing.
Such short-sighted arrogance these Christians expose.
Our kind greatly predate The Christ.
I have been told that some still walk who worshipped at the feet of our dark Lord’s bride.
Persephone, when she toured this world would take succor from such acolytes
in Her secret night rites.
Children of the God of Death and Transformation, we are born in intimate blood ritual.
We are damned with immortality to experience Hades on Earth.



Eve of Hecate





As we approach the 13th of August
 
August celebration of the Dark Moon Goddess
 
under the light of this August Full Moon
 
Aquarius bears the Water, carries the way
 
along the electro-virtual waves
 
shining Moonlight, Faery Queen or fabled harlot
 
stirs potent night blooms, expelling myths of
 
what we cannot bear, cannot overcome
 
Feel in the electric falling starlight
 
Spells of renewal, of power to look back
 
upon our falterings, to find the seed now grown
 
yet changing still and ever, able,
 
willing, co-creating in the illuminated shadow
 
invoking the peace of dissolving twilight
 
of midnight's hopeful resurrection
 
of the hinting flame that lightens before the dawn
 
take peace into each breath, each incantation
 
from the strength to align impeccably
 
with your deepest truth



An empty chalice, open, to be filled by spirit's essence, placed according to ritual, waits for its turn.
 
Goddess of so many duties, so many eras, so many sorrow-filled worshippers, She feels the tears, the emptiness.
 
"I cannot fill you. I can not fill the chalice of emptiness. That is not my gift or purpose. I can offer only what is already within you."
 
Almost quiet, sea sounds, dank odor of lowtide, creeping Spring carries melt of harsher climes. She stokes the fire to remember warmth when the Sun was high and strong, and present. Fire has its own secrets, its own order. As do we all, each our own furnace, nurturing a flame that is destiny. So old, She has been burnt by many flames -- blistered, scarred, hardened. She still feels every one, tastes fiery spice, seasonings, marinades. It all moves Her to cackling hysteria. You don't want the pain of knowing what She endures. You just want soothing stories, fantasies to believe in.
 
She understands your fear, and withdraws. No need to escalate sorrow. She is self-contained in her work and close-knit layers of exquisite aeons, sense memories, distilled lives.
 
"Was I a woman, then, upon the Earth, feeling sweet breeze of early Spring uplift my being when returning birds and budlings made ready for new beginnings?"
 
In the dark, in the cold, enclosed below that hopeful ground, stirrings still find Her. She can not miss the Sun, the Sky, the open fields. They are ingrained in Her, as there and intense as ever they could be. There is no yesterday, no tomorrow. Always all times, all places, all emotions, overwhelm, yet gentle strand by strand amuse. She has no pity. There is only action, including the action of long enthrallment, of stasis within unfolding storms. There is no room for judgment, no excuses. She sees all the rationales, the weak flailing attempts at blame, at justification.
 
Laughter takes Her. It makes so much more sense to revel in explosion, expelling, cleansing for exploration, for readiness to take the next step.



Alchemy


Simple acceptance.
The dancer with the dance
entering pre-dawn mystery.
Quiet interval, enchanting music.
Undulating reverie.
Alone in Hekate's garden,
breathing in memory
of jasmine and spice.
Weary roads traveled
crossroad to crossroad;
the journey continues.
Weary days have found sustenance
in secreted hovels, dimestore romance.
Convoluted talk, empty gestures,
soul-less ritual
take up the stitches of time.
Some brave midnight,
if I learn my lessons well,
I will eat the fruits of Hekate's garden,
dancing in piquant reverie,
leaving my tears and anguish
along the windswept trail.
Ebullient music
dances me
as the Goddess kisses
my tearstains into
gold.



The fact that there are so many religions, so many "gods," so many interpretations of what to believe makes it clear that no one group has "The Truth". We each see our little part of the whole. Rather than insist on converting others to our "Truth," we would do better to spend our time looking further.
Oct/11/2020, 6:23 pm Link to this post Send Email to libramoon   Send PM to libramoon Blog
 
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musing gods


 It seems to me that these people are mistaken

when they claim to be at war against Satan,

because the God they worship is the God of Evil,

Destruction, Death, and Despair.

Yet, there are other gods with other values.

How did this group gain so much control over mankind?

Why do we hate our lives?







Pray for Violence





The God of Abraham

enjoys His Master tricks.

Calls Chosen men to violent

revenge against all fancied slights.

“They’re wicked – Smite!

Pillage their villages.

Rape their disgusting whores.

Make their acres yours in My sight,

in My glory. Give blood lust, My rightful

gory sacrifice. Pride is My reward

when your sons fight in My Name.

Pride can pay the price, replace shame.

I am no pansy, no prancing debutante

at Papa’s ball. I am no Mama’s man,

no Fate’s enthralled. I am the First, the

Prime, the All.”







Pluto's Wife/ Demeter's Daughter

 

 

Persephone, your will is free

Even as your living is in bondage

to forces much older in their power

You are free to reconcile your fractured life

Daughter in Summer's sun

smiling warmly, playing at innocence

with charms long practiced

Mother's Fool

Mother's Lamb

Saved from that horrible man --

Well, joint custody

Ever Her beloved child

While it is no secret

Down below you are honored Queen

among tortured souls ever needy of your

attentive care

Far from noblesse oblige, it is your

chosen career, though not chosen by you

Are you told enough:

"You do it proud." or even acknowledged

for the prowess your will gives existence?

Free Will, not Free Choice

It is learning to make of the whole sad cacophony

discrete instruments of harmony, of divine symphony

to find, realize, act with

impeccable integrity

as child or Queen

or someone between

 

 

 

Persephone's Worlds

 

 

I have wandered far from thoughtless girlhood,

am woman grown, a Queen

in my own right.

Yet I am treated with the expectations

of a mindless child

in my mother's Summer home.

The Gods are all agog with Zeus,

fickle, abrasive, free to take full stance

above the laws he so imperiously commands.

My Dark King is so much more a man,

sincere, deeply feeling, committed to his realm,

compassionate, if not always kind.

Yet, this season I must obey the crowd,

display charm and grace

in haute couture, make small, insipid

conversation with useless socialites

decorating Zeus' lawn parties.

Up here, life is meaningless,

All flash and doggerel

to amuse, O', do entertain us.

So tiring to endure the ennui.

Those not privy to opulent entitlement,

relegated to the dregs of servitude, or less

endure for their time, brutal, painful, short,

for no good reason.

I hear their horrid tales,

back in my rightful place and purpose.

Shrunken souls, shriveled by life time hungers

still growling beyond the grave.

I am balm and wise mother.

At last they matter, their stories opening in me

a marvelous passageway through which they are

taken into paradise.

My life above, the petulant daughter,

the pampered goddess spawn,

I endure coldly.

Summer's trivialities, properly obedient to

rituals of social condition,

know nothing of my true calling

under Winter's glory.







For Brigid’s Day





Who am i to bow to You --

me shorn of love, without honor;

You an enduring Goddess,

long honored for your bounty

of knowledge, thought’s ground water

poured, shared, carried forward.

Goddess of brides,

of hope, of visions, of poetry.

We who want a deeper future for ourselves,

more kind, more wise,

a better definition for humanity,

assemble on bended knees to

beg, accept, express your beauty.



Humans alive to art,

flow of mystic cavern seas,

can synergize, can command,

manifest as Magick.







Nyx,



Dark encircling



womb



Goddess of Night



from sacred firepit



feeds dreamers



the potency of stars'



cosmic light



concave distortion



reflecting



myth's shadow







Andromeda Unbound



Primal emergent scene of fear/betrayal/rage

Against prosaic life tuned to a simpler age

A woman and a man and progeny of course

A life tailored to plan, no stranger to remorse



So early in the days of what might hence occur

The learning of the ways of how to be are stirred

So legends have been cast, so myths in mist abound

As some realities are buried underground.



It was a cold and gilded house, camouflaged as home

It was a brutal game of chance camouflaged as life

Chain me to my jagged rock and let me bleed

Let the ravage start, I will not plead,

My tears will only flow when primed by raging seas



They say that life's a school, we must learn or die

They knock into us what, where, when, forgetting why

Each put into our place and left to wait our turn

It's not about what we may be, but what we earn.



Tree-lined sidewalks, car-lined streets, children at play

It seems so calm and peaceful, keeping fear at bay

Do the laundry, buy the groceries, pay the heating bills

Get it done, don't delay, no matter who it kills.



It was a curse hurled from the gods, but it wasn't mine

Punishment for a crime of pride I did not commit

Clinging to my prison door, I hide my eyes

Expecting no pardon from the skies

No where left to go to hide from my mind's lies



What can't be told infects a deep and deadly path

Buried wounds untended surface into storms of wrath

A beaten creature huddles beneath a snarling face

Dying for a welcome smile, the warmth of caring grace



Some doors left open lead to mystic hidden rooms

Of purple velvet drapes, plush carpets and rare perfumes

The tapestry of life upon an ancient wall

Or was it down a rabbit-hole you meant to fall?



I begged a chance to be saved, but it was not my time

The monster's howl a hungry hound denying rest

Lost in a tempest, finding none to care

Petrified by my own inward icy stare

Bound and cursed by the gods, of what use is prayer?



Comes the time in spiraling life of do or die

Take the time to breathe the air, read visions from the sky

Willing change, allowing pain to tell its sorry tale

Rearrange the picture's frame, learn to adjust the scale



The rules laid down to keep us bound were never friends

A hero's quest with divine intent can open stories' ends

Gods inspire nature's desire for beauty, healing, choice

Reclaiming heart, we do our part, obeying our true voice



Opening my eyes, raising my voice, I claim my power

The gods respond not with violence but with joy

Claiming my life as my own, I turn my demons into stone

Free at last my spirit soars as I

dance by day through sweet Olympian fields -- by night among the stars







Venus Guide Us to Peace

a meditative poem



Not just sweetness and light

There is a strength; there is conviction --

 there is a vibrant dedication to true worth.

If we can but believe again

in all the humane virtues --

Love is sharing,

in kindness, understanding, supportive regard.

Love is forgiving and being forgiven,

when it is clear that malice was not intended

or malice has been exorcised

-- an acceptance of the positive power

 of change, of growth in spirit.

Love is the assumption of "we."

We are doing being going having creating

We are able to exchange our labor, knowledge,

possessions, positions

We are able to take in more than I -- to synergize

 our fortunes into wealth and integral well being.

Love is not just a song -- a pretty set of symbols

Love is a power and a glory

and an all encompassing truth.

Love is addition and multiplication,

not division or subtraction.

Love enriches and inspires us.

Love is not blind, not foolish.

Love is not denying the self or self interest.

Love is seeing clearly, knowing wisely,

understanding and expanding the self --

expanding outward to take in the universe

 of interconnected, interdependent being.

Love sees the ugliness; and loves sees the beauty.

The ugliness saddens; the beauty invigorates.

Love is to peace as music is to harmony.

But how are we to love in a discordant world?

It is within us to pick out the true,

enduring melody

 to which our essential selves are tuned --

If we but look to, listen to, open our selves to

Venus, the Goddess of Love,

Peace, Justice, Harmony

 as she manifests within us all.







Prometheus Descending

 

 

Stealing fire from the gods

was but part of a process.

Thesis, antithesis, synthesis.

Long, complicated tales.

Heroism, challenge, reciprocity

stamped into squirming genes,

appearing again and again

through the ages.

My father's father's father and yours

farther and farther into mists

of antiquity

words said, positions taken.

Complicated tales unravel

knots in temporal rewind.

We see hero/villain

rearrange, reverse, reverently

bow each to the other.

 

Who is the thief? the victim?

What is this fire that it is not

equally shared

among the initiates

who understand the requirements

of its power?









Earth Goddesses

 

 

Ceres, mother of the Earth

Athena, of cerebral birth

Juno, queen of all the gods

Vesta, pure against all odds

Virgo woman, faith bequeaths you,

standing proud amongst your sheaths.

Cunning service, gifts of grace,

in all fields is your place.

Virtue’s reason, mind and soul,

You plant the seed. You help it grow.

You till the soil and prune and weed.

You are the soil. You are the seed.

 

A snow-white light on field's relief

reflects upon divine belief.

The image of a wishful star:

A steady shine -- but still so far.

The nights of hope; the days of pain.

And on and on, that old refrain.

We are the lung, the gut, the spleen.

We are all we've known, foretold and seen.

We are the truth that marches forth,

boldly speaks, rebukes false swords.







Ceres in Regalia

 

 

Call in the harvest

My Lady awaits (impatient

is She,

as all Immortals)

She sends cauldrons for tribute

on chariots of Moon lace --

dervishly risqué

stars sparkle celebration

 

We humbly attend, extend

ardent service. Gaily bless Sun and Earth,

nature’s noble accord.

 

Welcome Grand Goddess!

Indulge in dulcet fruits and glories

from Your largesse devotees’ labor hath wrought.

Love and Work

in pure adoration,

Her most gracious bestowals, our holiest

of offerings.







Churches





These myths about crosses, holy water, Christian artifacts, are in some sense amusing.

Such short-sighted arrogance these Christians expose.

Our kind greatly predate The Christ.

I have been told that some still walk who worshipped at the feet of our dark Lord’s bride.

Persephone, when she toured this world would take succor from such acolytes

in Her secret night rites.

Children of the God of Death and Transformation, we are born in intimate blood ritual.

We are damned with immortality to experience Hades on Earth.







Mercury Trickster

lithely larfing pixels and waves

Happy adventure

creating mayhem silly and brave

wandering worlds, leaping between

with the flick of a dial

bringing a soul feeding smile

to the lips of a beaten down child

slyly ass-kicking evil demeanors

dancing outside the scene

to quicksilver change

flickering out of range

of censor or brute

soldier or suit

to give 'em the boot

when their attention is taken

up in their infernal machine

Immortal mixer

in our mundane affairs

playing at musical chairs

or the game of the day

unattached to our daily cares

merry and gay

spreading that sunny moonshine

then dancing away







Athena's Valentine





Athena fair

stalwart daughter of Zeus

graces her time and place

with divine knowledge.

Today unlined face,

silken hair,

robust yet fragile form

are proclaimed as the graces

of womanhood.

Athena, lost in the pantheon,

whispers to the nightears

of her faithful,

saying: "True woman's mind

inclines to wisdom."

But Daddy's girl

wants more recompense

for loneliness.









Gaea's laughing

silly antlike scavengers

groomed in self-importance

never see the joke








Eve of Hecate











As we approach the 13th of August

 

August celebration of the Dark Moon Goddess

 

under the light of this August Full Moon

 

Aquarius bears the Water, carries the way

 

along the electro-virtual waves

 

shining Moonlight, Faery Queen or fabled harlot

 

stirs potent night blooms, expelling myths of

 

what we cannot bear, cannot overcome

 

Feel in the electric falling starlight

 

Spells of renewal, of power to look back

 

upon our falterings, to find the seed now grown

 

yet changing still and ever, able,

 

willing, co-creating in the illuminated shadow

 

invoking the peace of dissolving twilight

 

of midnight's hopeful resurrection

 

of the hinting flame that lightens before the dawn

 

take peace into each breath, each incantation

 

from the strength to align impeccably

 

with your deepest truth







An empty chalice, open, to be filled by spirit's essence, placed according to ritual, waits for its turn.

 

Goddess of so many duties, so many eras, so many sorrow-filled worshippers, She feels the tears, the emptiness.

 

"I cannot fill you. I can not fill the chalice of emptiness. That is not my gift or purpose. I can offer only what is already within you."

 

Almost quiet, sea sounds, dank odor of lowtide, creeping Spring carries melt of harsher climes. She stokes the fire to remember warmth when the Sun was high and strong, and present. Fire has its own secrets, its own order. As do we all, each our own furnace, nurturing a flame that is destiny. So old, She has been burnt by many flames -- blistered, scarred, hardened. She still feels every one, tastes fiery spice, seasonings, marinades. It all moves Her to cackling hysteria. You don't want the pain of knowing what She endures. You just want soothing stories, fantasies to believe in.

 

She understands your fear, and withdraws. No need to escalate sorrow. She is self-contained in her work and close-knit layers of exquisite aeons, sense memories, distilled lives.

 

"Was I a woman, then, upon the Earth, feeling sweet breeze of early Spring uplift my being when returning birds and budlings made ready for new beginnings?"

 

In the dark, in the cold, enclosed below that hopeful ground, stirrings still find Her. She can not miss the Sun, the Sky, the open fields. They are ingrained in Her, as there and intense as ever they could be. There is no yesterday, no tomorrow. Always all times, all places, all emotions, overwhelm, yet gentle strand by strand amuse. She has no pity. There is only action, including the action of long enthrallment, of stasis within unfolding storms. There is no room for judgment, no excuses. She sees all the rationales, the weak flailing attempts at blame, at justification.

 

Laughter takes Her. It makes so much more sense to revel in explosion, expelling, cleansing for exploration, for readiness to take the next step.







Alchemy





Simple acceptance.

The dancer with the dance

entering pre-dawn mystery.

Quiet interval, enchanting music.

Undulating reverie.

Alone in Hekate's garden,

breathing in memory

of jasmine and spice.

Weary roads traveled

crossroad to crossroad;

the journey continues.

Weary days have found sustenance

in secreted hovels, dimestore romance.

Convoluted talk, empty gestures,

soul-less ritual

take up the stitches of time.

Some brave midnight,

if I learn my lessons well,

I will eat the fruits of Hekate's garden,

dancing in piquant reverie,

leaving my tears and anguish

along the windswept trail.

Ebullient music

dances me

as the Goddess kisses

my tearstains into

gold.







The fact that there are so many religions, so many "gods," so many interpretations of what to believe makes it clear that no one group has "The Truth". We each see our little part of the whole. Rather than insist on converting others to our "Truth," we would do better to spend our time looking further.
Oct/14/2020, 9:29 pm Link to this post Send Email to libramoon   Send PM to libramoon Blog
 
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Reply | Quote
Re: gods



regarding gods (in progress)



It seems to me that these people are mistaken
when they claim to be at war against Satan,
because the God they worship is the God of Evil,
Destruction, Death, and Despair.
Yet, there are other gods with other values.
How did this group gain so much control over mankind?
Why do we hate our lives?



Pray for Violence


The God of Abraham
enjoys His Master tricks.
Calls Chosen men to violent
revenge against all fancied slights.
“They’re wicked – Smite!
Pillage their villages.
Rape their disgusting whores.
Make their acres yours in My sight,
in My glory. Give blood lust, My rightful
gory sacrifice. Pride is My reward
when your sons fight in My Name.
Pride can pay the price, replace shame.
I am no pansy, no prancing debutante
at Papa’s ball. I am no Mama’s man,
no Fate’s enthralled. I am the First, the
Prime, the All.”



Pluto's Wife/ Demeter's Daughter


Persephone, your will is free
Even as your living is in bondage
to forces much older in their power
You are free to reconcile your fractured life
Daughter in Summer's sun
smiling warmly, playing at innocence
with charms long practiced
Mother's Fool
Mother's Lamb
Saved from that horrible man --
Well, joint custody
Ever Her beloved child
While it is no secret
Down below you are honored Queen
among tortured souls ever needy of your
attentive care
Far from noblesse oblige, it is your
chosen career, though not chosen by you
Are you told enough:
"You do it proud." or even acknowledged
for the prowess your will gives existence?
Free Will, not Free Choice
It is learning to make of the whole sad cacophony
discrete instruments of harmony, of divine symphony
to find, realize, act with
impeccable integrity
as child or Queen
or someone between



Persephone's Worlds


I have wandered far from thoughtless girlhood,
am woman grown, a Queen
in my own right.
Yet I am treated with the expectations
of a mindless child
in my mother's Summer home.
The Gods are all agog with Zeus,
fickle, abrasive, free to take full stance
above the laws he so imperiously commands.
My Dark King is so much more a man,
sincere, deeply feeling, committed to his realm,
compassionate, if not always kind.
Yet, this season I must obey the crowd,
display charm and grace
in haute couture, make small, insipid
conversation with useless socialites
decorating Zeus' lawn parties.
Up here, life is meaningless,
All flash and doggerel
to amuse, O', do entertain us.
So tiring to endure the ennui.
Those not privy to opulent entitlement,
relegated to the dregs of servitude, or less
endure for their time, brutal, painful, short,
for no good reason.
I hear their horrid tales,
back in my rightful place and purpose.
Shrunken souls, shriveled by life time hungers
still growling beyond the grave.
I am balm and wise mother.
At last they matter, their stories opening in me
a marvelous passageway through which they are
taken into paradise.
My life above, the petulant daughter,
the pampered goddess spawn,
I endure coldly.
Summer's trivialities, properly obedient to
rituals of social condition,
know nothing of my true calling
under Winter's glory.



For Brigid’s Day


Who am i to bow to You --
me shorn of love, without honor;
You an enduring Goddess,
long honored for your bounty
of knowledge, thought’s ground water
poured, shared, carried forward.
Goddess of brides,
of hope, of visions, of poetry.
We who want a deeper future for ourselves,
more kind, more wise,
a better definition for humanity,
assemble on bended knees to
beg, accept, express your beauty.
Humans alive to art,
flow of mystic cavern seas,
can synergize, can command,
manifest as Magick.



Nyx,
Dark encircling
womb
Goddess of Night
from sacred firepit
feeds dreamers
the potency of stars'
cosmic light
concave distortion
reflecting
myth's shadow



Andromeda Unbound


Primal emergent scene of fear/betrayal/rage
Against prosaic life tuned to a simpler age
A woman and a man and progeny of course
A life tailored to plan, no stranger to remorse

So early in the days of what might hence occur
The learning of the ways of how to be are stirred
So legends have been cast, so myths in mist abound
As some realities are buried underground.

It was a cold and gilded house, camouflaged as home
It was a brutal game of chance camouflaged as life
Chain me to my jagged rock and let me bleed
Let the ravage start, I will not plead,
My tears will only flow when primed by raging seas

They say that life's a school, we must learn or die
They knock into us what, where, when, forgetting why
Each put into our place and left to wait our turn
It's not about what we may be, but what we earn.

Tree-lined sidewalks, car-lined streets, children at play
It seems so calm and peaceful, keeping fear at bay
Do the laundry, buy the groceries, pay the heating bills
Get it done, don't delay, no matter who it kills.

It was a curse hurled from the gods, but it wasn't mine
Punishment for a crime of pride I did not commit
Clinging to my prison door, I hide my eyes
Expecting no pardon from the skies
No where left to go to hide from my mind's lies

What can't be told infects a deep and deadly path
Buried wounds untended surface into storms of wrath
A beaten creature huddles beneath a snarling face
Dying for a welcome smile, the warmth of caring grace

Some doors left open lead to mystic hidden rooms
Of purple velvet drapes, plush carpets and rare perfumes
The tapestry of life upon an ancient wall
Or was it down a rabbit-hole you meant to fall?

I begged a chance to be saved, but it was not my time
The monster's howl a hungry hound denying rest
Lost in a tempest, finding none to care
Petrified by my own inward icy stare
Bound and cursed by the gods, of what use is prayer?

Comes the time in spiraling life of do or die
Take the time to breathe the air, read visions from the sky
Willing change, allowing pain to tell its sorry tale
Rearrange the picture's frame, learn to adjust the scale

The rules laid down to keep us bound were never friends
A hero's quest with divine intent can open stories' ends
Gods inspire nature's desire for beauty, healing, choice
Reclaiming heart, we do our part, obeying our true voice

Opening my eyes, raising my voice, I claim my power
The gods respond not with violence but with joy
Claiming my life as my own, I turn my demons into stone
Free at last my spirit soars as I
dance by day through sweet Olympian fields -- by night among the stars



Venus Guide Us to Peace

a meditative poem


Not just sweetness and light
There is a strength; there is conviction --
there is a vibrant dedication to true worth.
If we can but believe again
in all the humane virtues --
Love is sharing,
in kindness, understanding, supportive regard.
Love is forgiving and being forgiven,
when it is clear that malice was not intended
or malice has been exorcised
-- an acceptance of the positive power
of change, of growth in spirit.
Love is the assumption of "we."
We are doing being going having creating
We are able to exchange our labor, knowledge,
possessions, positions
We are able to take in more than I -- to synergize
our fortunes into wealth and integral well being.
Love is not just a song -- a pretty set of symbols
Love is a power and a glory
and an all encompassing truth.
Love is addition and multiplication,
not division or subtraction.
Love enriches and inspires us.
Love is not blind, not foolish.
Love is not denying the self or self interest.
Love is seeing clearly, knowing wisely,
understanding and expanding the self --
expanding outward to take in the universe
of interconnected, interdependent being.
Love sees the ugliness; and loves sees the beauty.
The ugliness saddens; the beauty invigorates.
Love is to peace as music is to harmony.
But how are we to love in a discordant world?
It is within us to pick out the true,
enduring melody
to which our essential selves are tuned --
If we but look to, listen to, open our selves to
Venus, the Goddess of Love,
Peace, Justice, Harmony
as she manifests within us all.



Prometheus Descending


Stealing fire from the gods
was but part of a process.
Thesis, antithesis, synthesis.
Long, complicated tales.
Heroism, challenge, reciprocity
stamped into squirming genes,
appearing again and again
through the ages.
My father's father's father and yours
farther and farther into mists
of antiquity
words said, positions taken.
Complicated tales unravel
knots in temporal rewind.
We see hero/villain
rearrange, reverse, reverently
bow each to the other.

Who is the thief? the victim?
What is this fire that it is not
equally shared
among the initiates
who understand the requirements
of its power?



Earth Goddesses


Ceres, mother of the Earth
Athena, of cerebral birth
Juno, queen of all the gods
Vesta, pure against all odds
Virgo woman, faith bequeaths you,
standing proud amongst your sheaths.
Cunning service, gifts of grace,
in all fields is your place.
Virtue’s reason, mind and soul,
You plant the seed. You help it grow.
You till the soil and prune and weed.
You are the soil. You are the seed.

A snow-white light on field's relief
reflects upon divine belief.
The image of a wishful star:
A steady shine -- but still so far.
The nights of hope; the days of pain.
And on and on, that old refrain.
We are the lung, the gut, the spleen.
We are all we've known, foretold and seen.
We are the truth that marches forth,
boldly speaks, rebukes false swords.



Ceres in Regalia


Call in the harvest
My Lady awaits (impatient
is She,
as all Immortals)
She sends cauldrons for tribute
on chariots of Moon lace --
dervishly risqué
stars sparkle celebration

We humbly attend, extend
ardent service. Gaily bless Sun and Earth,
nature’s noble accord.

Welcome Grand Goddess!
Indulge in dulcet fruits and glories
from Your largesse devotees’ labor hath wrought.
Love and Work
in pure adoration,
Her most gracious bestowals, our holiest
of offerings.



Churches


These myths about crosses, holy water, Christian artifacts, are in some
sense amusing.
Such short-sighted arrogance these Christians expose.
Our kind greatly predate The Christ.
I have been told that some still walk who worshipped at the feet of our dark
Lord’s bride.

Persephone, when she toured this world would take succor from such acolytes
in Her secret night rites.
Children of the God of Death and Transformation, we are born in intimate
blood ritual.
We are damned with immortality to experience Hades on Earth.



Mercury Trickster
lithely larfing pixels and waves
Happy adventure
creating mayhem silly and brave
wandering worlds, leaping between
with the flick of a dial
bringing a soul feeding smile
to the lips of a beaten down child
slyly ass-kicking evil demeanors
dancing outside the scene
to quicksilver change
flickering out of range
of censor or brute
soldier or suit
to give 'em the boot
when their attention is taken
up in their infernal machine
Immortal mixer
in our mundane affairs
playing at musical chairs
or the game of the day
unattached to our daily cares
merry and gay
spreading that sunny moonshine
then dancing away



Athena's Valentine


Athena fair
stalwart daughter of Zeus
graces her time and place
with divine knowledge.
Today unlined face,
silken hair,
robust yet fragile form
are proclaimed as the graces
of womanhood.
Athena, lost in the pantheon,
whispers to the nightears
of her faithful,
saying: "True woman's mind
inclines to wisdom."
But Daddy's girl
wants more recompense
for loneliness.



Gaea's laughing

silly antlike scavengers

groomed in self-importance

never see the joke



Eve of Hecate


As we approach the 13th of August
August celebration of the Dark Moon Goddess
under the light of this August Full Moon
Aquarius bears the Water, carries the way
along the electro-virtual waves
shining Moonlight, Faery Queen or fabled harlot
stirs potent night blooms, expelling myths of
what we cannot bear, cannot overcome
Feel in the electric falling starlight
Spells of renewal, of power to look back
upon our falterings, to find the seed now grown
yet changing still and ever, able,
willing, co-creating in the illuminated shadow
invoking the peace of dissolving twilight
of midnight's hopeful resurrection
of the hinting flame that lightens before the dawn
take peace into each breath, each incantation
from the strength to align impeccably
with your deepest truth



chalice


An empty chalice, open, to be filled by spirit's essence, placed according
to ritual, waits for its turn.
Goddess of so many duties, so many eras, so many sorrow-filled worshippers,
She feels the tears, the emptiness.
"I cannot fill you. I can not fill the chalice of emptiness. That is not
my gift or purpose. I can offer only what is already within you."
Almost quiet, sea sounds, dank odor of lowtide, creeping Spring carries melt
of harsher climes. She stokes the fire to remember warmth when the Sun was
high and strong, and present. Fire has its own secrets, its own order. As
do we all, each our own furnace, nurturing a flame that is destiny. So old,
She has been burnt by many flames -- blistered, scarred, hardened. She
still feels every one, tastes fiery spice, seasonings, marinades. It all
moves Her to cackling hysteria. You don't want the pain of knowing what She
endures. You just want soothing stories, fantasies to believe in.

She understands your fear, and withdraws. No need to escalate sorrow. She
is self-contained in her work and close-knit layers of exquisite aeons,
sense memories, distilled lives.

"Was I a woman, then, upon the Earth, feeling sweet breeze of early Spring
uplift my being when returning birds and budlings made ready for new
beginnings?"

In the dark, in the cold, enclosed below that hopeful ground, stirrings
still find Her. She can not miss the Sun, the Sky, the open fields. They
are ingrained in Her, as there and intense as ever they could be. There is
no yesterday, no tomorrow. Always all times, all places, all emotions,
overwhelm, yet gentle strand by strand amuse. She has no pity. There is
only action, including the action of long enthrallment, of stasis within
unfolding storms. There is no room for judgment, no excuses. She sees all
the rationales, the weak flailing attempts at blame, at justification.

Laughter takes Her. It makes so much more sense to revel in explosion,
expelling, cleansing for exploration, for readiness to take the next step.



Alchemy


Simple acceptance.
The dancer with the dance
entering pre-dawn mystery.
Quiet interval, enchanting music.
Undulating reverie.
Alone in Hekate's garden,
breathing in memory
of jasmine and spice.
Weary roads traveled
crossroad to crossroad;
the journey continues.
Weary days have found sustenance
in secreted hovels, dimestore romance.
Convoluted talk, empty gestures,
soul-less ritual
take up the stitches of time.
Some brave midnight,
if I learn my lessons well,
I will eat the fruits of Hekate's garden,
dancing in piquant reverie,
leaving my tears and anguish
along the windswept trail.
Ebullient music
dances me
as the Goddess kisses
my tearstains into
gold.




The fact that there are so many religions, so many "gods," so many
interpretations of what to believe makes it clear that no one group has "The
Truth". We each see our little part of the whole. Rather than insist on
converting others to our "Truth," we would do better to spend our time
looking further.
Oct/16/2020, 4:29 pm Link to this post Send Email to libramoon   Send PM to libramoon Blog
 
libramoon Profile
Live feed
Blog
Friends
Miscellaneous info



Reply | Quote
Re: gods


regarding gods (in progress)
s
s
s
It seems to me that these people are mistaken
when they claim to be at war against Satan,
because the God they worship is the God of Evil,
Destruction, Death, and Despair.
Yet, there are other gods with other values.
How did this group gain so much control over mankind?
Why do we hate our lives?
s
s
s




Pray for Violence
s
s




The God of Abraham
enjoys His Master tricks.
Calls Chosen men to violent
revenge against all fancied slights.
“They’re wicked – Smite!
Pillage their villages.
Rape their disgusting whores.
Make their acres yours in My sight,
in My glory.  Give blood lust, My rightful
gory sacrifice.  Pride is My reward
when your sons fight in My Name.
Pride can pay the price, replace shame.
I am no pansy, no prancing debutante
at Papa’s ball.  I am no Mama’s man,
no Fate’s enthralled.  I am the First, the
Prime, the All.”


s
s
s


Pluto's Wife/ Demeter's Daughter
s
s




Persephone, your will is free
Even as your living is in bondage
to forces much older in their power
You are free to reconcile your fractured life
Daughter in Summer's sun
smiling warmly, playing at innocence
with charms long practiced
Mother's Fool
Mother's Lamb
Saved from that horrible man --
Well, joint custody
Ever Her beloved child
While it is no secret
Down below you are honored Queen
among tortured souls ever needy of your
attentive care
Far from noblesse oblige, it is your
chosen career, though not chosen by you
Are you told enough:
"You do it proud." or even acknowledged
for the prowess your will gives existence?
Free Will, not Free Choice
It is learning to make of the whole sad cacophony
discrete instruments of harmony, of divine symphony
to find, realize, act with
impeccable integrity
as child or Queen
or someone between


s
s
s
Persephone's Worlds
s
s




I have wandered far from thoughtless girlhood,
am woman grown, a Queen
in my own right.
Yet I am treated with the expectations
of a mindless child
in my mother's Summer home.
The Gods are all agog with Zeus,
fickle, abrasive, free to take full stance
above the laws he so imperiously commands.
My Dark King is so much more a man,
sincere, deeply feeling, committed to his realm,
compassionate, if not always kind.
Yet, this season I must obey the crowd,
display charm and grace
in haute couture, make small, insipid
conversation with useless socialites
decorating Zeus' lawn parties.
Up here, life is meaningless,
All flash and doggerel
to amuse, O', do entertain us.
So tiring to endure the ennui.
Those not privy to opulent entitlement,
relegated to the dregs of servitude, or less
endure for their time, brutal, painful, short,
for no good reason.
I hear their horrid tales,
back in my rightful place and purpose.
Shrunken souls, shriveled by life time hungers
still growling beyond the grave.
I am balm and wise mother.
At last they matter, their stories opening in me
a marvelous passageway through which they are
taken into paradise.
My life above, the petulant daughter,
the pampered goddess spawn,
I endure coldly.
Summer's trivialities, properly obedient to
rituals of social condition,
know nothing of my true calling
under Winter's glory.


s
s
s




For Brigid’s Day


s
s


Who am i to bow to You --
me shorn of love, without honor;
You an enduring Goddess,
long honored for your bounty
of knowledge, thought’s ground water
poured, shared, carried forward.
Goddess of brides,
of hope, of visions, of poetry.
We who want a deeper future for ourselves,
more kind, more wise,
a better definition for humanity,
assemble on bended knees to
beg, accept, express your beauty.
Humans alive to art,
flow of mystic cavern seas,
can synergize, can command,
manifest as Magick.


s
s
s


Nyx,
Dark encircling
womb
Goddess of Night
from sacred firepit
feeds dreamers
the potency of stars'
cosmic light
concave distortion
reflecting
myth's shadow


s
s
s


Andromeda Unbound


s
s


Primal emergent scene of fear/betrayal/rage
Against prosaic life tuned to a simpler age
A woman and a man and progeny of course
A life tailored to plan, no stranger to remorse


s
So early in the days of what might hence occur
The learning of the ways of how to be are stirred
So legends have been cast, so myths in mist abound
As some realities are buried underground.
 
s
 
It was a cold and gilded house, camouflaged as home
It was a brutal game of chance camouflaged as life
Chain me to my jagged rock and let me bleed
Let the ravage start, I will not plead,
My tears will only flow when primed by raging seas
s
 
They say that life's a school, we must learn or die
They knock into us what, where, when, forgetting why
Each put into our place and left to wait our turn
It's not about what we may be, but what we earn.


s
Tree-lined sidewalks, car-lined streets, children at play
It seems so calm and peaceful, keeping fear at bay
Do the laundry, buy the groceries, pay the heating bills
Get it done, don't delay, no matter who it kills.
s
 
It was a curse hurled from the gods, but it wasn't mine
Punishment for a crime of pride I did not commit
Clinging to my prison door, I hide my eyes
Expecting no pardon from the skies
No where left to go to hide from my mind's lies
 
s
 
What can't be told infects a deep and deadly path
Buried wounds untended surface into storms of wrath
A beaten creature huddles beneath a snarling face
Dying for a welcome smile, the warmth of caring grace
s
 
Some doors left open lead to mystic hidden rooms
Of purple velvet drapes, plush carpets and rare perfumes
The tapestry of life upon an ancient wall
Or was it down a rabbit-hole you meant to fall?
s
 
I begged a chance to be saved, but it was not my time
The monster's howl a hungry hound denying rest
Lost in a tempest, finding none to care
Petrified by my own inward icy stare
Bound and cursed by the gods, of what use is prayer?


s
Comes the time in spiraling life of do or die
Take the time to breathe the air, read visions from the sky
Willing change, allowing pain to tell its sorry tale
Rearrange the picture's frame, learn to adjust the scale
s
 
The rules laid down to keep us bound were never friends
A hero's quest with divine intent can open stories' ends
Gods inspire nature's desire for beauty, healing, choice
Reclaiming heart, we do our part, obeying our true voice
s
 
Opening my eyes, raising my voice, I claim my power
The gods respond not with violence but with joy
Claiming my life as my own, I turn my demons into stone
Free at last my spirit soars as I
dance by day through sweet Olympian fields -- by night among the stars
s
s
s


Venus Guide Us to Peace
s
 a meditative poem


s
s


Not just sweetness and light
There is a strength; there is conviction --
there is a vibrant dedication to true worth.
If we can but believe again
in all the humane virtues --
Love is sharing,
in kindness, understanding, supportive regard.
Love is forgiving and being forgiven,
when it is clear that malice was not intended
or malice has been exorcised
-- an acceptance of the positive power
of change, of growth in spirit.
Love is the assumption of "we."
We are doing being going having creating
We are able to exchange our labor, knowledge,
possessions, positions
We are able to take in more than I -- to synergize
our fortunes into wealth and integral well being.
Love is not just a song -- a pretty set of symbols
Love is a power and a glory
and an all encompassing truth.
Love is addition and multiplication,
not division or subtraction.
Love enriches and inspires us.
Love is not blind, not foolish.
Love is not denying the self or self interest.
Love is seeing clearly, knowing wisely,
understanding and expanding the self --
expanding outward to take in the universe
of interconnected, interdependent being.
Love sees the ugliness; and loves sees the beauty.
The ugliness saddens; the beauty invigorates.
Love is to peace as music is to harmony.
But how are we to love in a discordant world?
It is within us to pick out the true,
enduring melody
to which our essential selves are tuned --
If we but look to, listen to, open our selves to
Venus, the Goddess of Love,
Peace, Justice, Harmony
as she manifests within us all.


s
s
s




Prometheus Descending




s
s
Stealing fire from the gods
was but part of a process.
Thesis, antithesis, synthesis.
Long, complicated tales.
Heroism, challenge, reciprocity
stamped into squirming genes,
appearing again and again
through the ages.
My father's father's father and yours
farther and farther into mists
of antiquity
words said, positions taken.
Complicated tales unravel
knots in temporal rewind.
We see hero/villain
rearrange, reverse, reverently
bow each to the other.
s


Who is the thief?  the victim?
What is this fire that it is not
equally shared
among the initiates
who understand the requirements
of its power?




s
s
s


Holy Chaos
s
s
Please, never mock at Eris
Lest Eris mock with you
She of star hot temper
Fells any who upset Her
You haven’t got a clue
s
It isn’t that you’re stupid,
or even that She’s wise,
but that’s She’s wildly puissant
You aren’t dealing with Cupid
mere love spells to hypnotize
s
She wields power of Chaos
She cares not about Right
Nor who is strong or bravest
What Eris wants She stages
to play within Her sight
s
Will charged up with magic
Slights small or large revenged
Express desire, She grabs it
Though for you it’s tragic
She laughs and strikes again
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Best mortal, mock not Eris
Lest Eris mock with you
Unfazed by fear nor reason
She razes as She pleases
You haven’t got a clue


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Ceres in Regalia


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Call in the harvest
My Lady awaits (impatient
is  She,
as all Immortals)
She sends cauldrons for tribute
on chariots of Moon lace --
dervishly risqué
stars sparkle celebration
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We humbly attend, extend
ardent service.  Gaily bless Sun and Earth,
nature’s noble accord.


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Welcome Grand Goddess!
Indulge in dulcet fruits and glories
from Your largesse devotees’ labor hath wrought.
Love and Work
in pure adoration,
Her most gracious bestowals, our holiest
of offerings.


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Churches
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These myths about crosses, holy water, Christian artifacts, are in some
sense amusing.
Such short-sighted arrogance these Christians expose.
Our kind greatly predate The Christ.
I have been told that some still walk who worshipped at the feet of our dark Lord’s bride.
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Persephone, when she toured this world would take succor from such acolytes in Her secret night rites.
Children of the God of Death and Transformation, we are born in intimate blood ritual.
We are damned with immortality to experience Hades on Earth.
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chiaroscuro
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Ceres, mother of the Earth
Athena, of cerebral birth
Juno, queen of all the gods
Vesta, pure against all odds
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Golden night rises.
High fields enriched in seed,
aglow. Listening for enchanting pipes
as Pan serenades
romantic lust, lingering hope of thrill and thrust.
Amorous nymphs a’hum in ripe foliage
answer in bleats of rapture.
Chirrups, nightwings,
mingled weeping and carefree cries
slowly reveal.  Pan to follow,
dancers bathe elation on night shores.
Legends cavort, their joyful voices echo,
kiss and tell, lithely merry on.


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Mercury Trickster
lithely larfing pixels and waves
Happy adventure
creating mayhem silly and brave
wandering worlds, leaping between
with the flick of a dial
bringing a soul feeding smile
to the lips of a beaten down child
slyly ass-kicking evil demeanors
dancing outside the scene
to quicksilver change
flickering out of range
of censor or brute
soldier or suit
to give 'em the boot
when their attention is taken
up in their infernal machine
Immortal mixer
in our mundane affairs
playing at musical chairs
or the game of the day
unattached to our daily cares
merry and gay
spreading that sunny moonshine
then dancing away




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Athena's Valentine
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Athena fair
stalwart daughter of Zeus
graces her time and place
with divine knowledge.
Today unlined face,
silken hair,
robust yet fragile form
are proclaimed as the graces
of womanhood.
Athena, lost in the pantheon,
whispers to the nightears
of her faithful,
saying:  "True woman's mind
inclines to wisdom."
But Daddy's girl
wants more recompense
for loneliness.


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Gaea's laughing
 
silly antlike scavengers
 
groomed in self-importance
 
never see the joke


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Eve of Hecate
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As we approach the 13th of August
August celebration of the Dark Moon Goddess
under the light of this August Full Moon
Aquarius bears the Water, carries the way
along the electro-virtual waves
shining Moonlight, Faery Queen or fabled harlot
stirs potent night blooms, expelling myths of
what we cannot bear, cannot overcome
Feel in the electric falling starlight
Spells of renewal, of power to look back
upon our falterings, to find the seed now grown
yet changing still and ever, able,
willing, co-creating in the illuminated shadow
invoking the peace of dissolving twilight
of midnight's hopeful resurrection
of the hinting flame that lightens before the dawn
take peace into each breath, each incantation
from the strength to align impeccably
with your deepest truth


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chalice




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An empty chalice, open, to be filled by spirit's essence, placed according
to ritual, waits for its turn.
Goddess of so many duties, so many eras, so many sorrow-filled worshippers, She feels the tears, the emptiness.
"I cannot fill you.  I can not fill the chalice of emptiness.  That is not
my gift or purpose.  I can offer only what is already within you."
Almost quiet, sea sounds, dank odor of lowtide, creeping Spring carries melt of harsher climes.  She stokes the fire to remember warmth when the Sun was high and strong, and present.  Fire has its own secrets, its own order.  As do we all, each our own furnace, nurturing a flame that is destiny.  So old, She has been burnt by many flames -- blistered, scarred, hardened.  She still feels every one, tastes fiery spice, seasonings, marinades.  It all moves Her to cackling hysteria.  You don't want the pain of knowing what She endures.  You just want soothing stories, fantasies to believe in.
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She understands your fear, and withdraws.  No need to escalate sorrow.  She is self-contained in her work and close-knit layers of exquisite aeons,
sense memories, distilled lives.
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"Was I a woman, then, upon the Earth, feeling sweet breeze of early Spring
uplift my being when returning birds and budlings made ready for new
beginnings?"
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In the dark, in the cold, enclosed below that hopeful ground, stirrings
still find Her.  She can not miss the Sun, the Sky, the open fields.  They
are ingrained in Her, as there and intense as ever they could be.  There is
no yesterday, no tomorrow.  Always all times, all places, all emotions,
overwhelm, yet gentle strand by strand amuse.  She has no pity.  There is
only action, including the action of long enthrallment, of stasis within
unfolding storms.  There is no room for judgment, no excuses.  She sees all the rationales, the weak flailing attempts at blame, at justification.
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Laughter takes Her.  It makes so much more sense to revel in explosion,
expelling, cleansing for exploration, for readiness to take the next step.
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Alchemy


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Simple acceptance.
The dancer with the dance
entering pre-dawn mystery.
Quiet interval, enchanting music.
Undulating reverie.
Alone in Hekate's garden,
breathing in memory
of jasmine and spice.
Weary roads traveled
crossroad to crossroad;
the journey continues.
Weary days have found sustenance
in secreted hovels, dimestore romance.
Convoluted talk, empty gestures,
soul-less ritual
take up the stitches of time.
Some brave midnight,
if I learn my lessons well,
I will eat the fruits of Hekate's garden,
dancing in piquant reverie,
leaving my tears and anguish
along the windswept trail.
Ebullient music
dances me
as the Goddess kisses
my tearstains into
gold.




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The fact that there are so many religions, so many "gods," so many
interpretations of what to believe makes it clear that no one group has "The Truth". We each see our little part of the whole. Rather than insist on
converting others to our "Truth," we would do better to spend our time
looking further.


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Oct/17/2020, 5:54 pm Link to this post Send Email to libramoon   Send PM to libramoon Blog
 


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