Tag Archives: esoteric

Dilemmas…

*

For over Two-Thousand years

Fine minds have

Pondered the problem

Of philosophical dualism.

*

The living soul

A quickening spirit.

*

This dilemma, perhaps, can

Best be approached by

Considering three questions.

*

Why,

Clean the house

Before a birth?

*

Why,

Tidy the house

Before a guest?

*

And what must have

occurred before one

Is able to

Do these things?

– Count Jack Black

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Carnival…

*

…Face of moving water

Breathing in water

The water a breathing face…

*

Today I will speak to you

For, today, we hold a race

A sprint to the death

Whose spirit yields to the swiftest

The fleetest of foot…

*

He, who with the most fateful

Imagination of mind

Can picture the year

Bearing fruit

through a carnival of fear…

*

It is he whom we call great

He, who grants freedom to stars.

Egg of the Id…

*

A story should be taken to heart

And incubated

Brooded upon

Mulled over

Savoured.

*

The subject of a good story is always you.

Every one of you.

Not you as you are.

You as you could be.

And, perhaps, really ought to be.

*

Good stories are a part of that science of the soul

which insists that your world cannot be changed

without first changing yourself.

*

Even the most seemingly insignificant story

can pick up your soul and shake it like a leaf in the wind.

Where then is the world

you thought you lived in?

*

Only after the incubation

The brooding and mulling

The savouring…

Should the story be left

To fly free

In the world.

– Count Jack Black

Old Stones…

*

Built by the sea

But not of the sea

These enclosing walls…

*

It is a ‘Celtic’ thing

The Spirit tied-to-tide

And it is still understood

By today’s Old Bones…

*

There they sit

Lining the sea-front

Huddled together

Under-sun

Within ear-shot

Of the waves

Which lap the shore

And withdraw

On the out-breath

In ceaseless rhythm

Which hints at beyond…

*

Built by the sea

But not of the sea

These enclosing walls.

*

Siesta…

rs-587*

Sweating hours.

Quiescence lies like a crime.

*

The crack of dry twigs underfoot…

startles!

A tumultuous green-flash

of thumping rampage.

Dog legs.

Baboon haunches.

A luminous ankh arrows away.

A way out to tree-stump.

To crook torso and tail.

And splay dripping

limbs akimbo.

*

A panting swastika

pulses suspended.

*

Mimicking leaf.

Balanced in bark.

Night  flecked.

*

Slowly stretching…

it twists

an ancient neck

to glare.

*

Eon empty eyes

Blink in

the sun.