First Light

Each human incarnation sees
The evolution of the Soul,
Whose manifestations are,
In and of each Self,
A form absorbing
All that has been and all that is
And a force propelling
That which is to be,
In constant elevation of the Cosmos
And unto Eternity;
Each Soul, the Chariot of God.

 
Bright hope of Imbolc be with you 🕯 xXx

asymmetric power licks its lusty lips

Brexit is all smitten
With the label ‘Global Britain’
Reminiscent of the time the Sun
Was always in position;

Gonna give EU a kicking
If it doesn’t get its way.

[Every self-entitled bulldog has its day]

Gonna threaten, preach and overreach,
Cajole and whine and then beseech,
As self-inflicted victims,
Sudden keen on Foreign Aid.

Gonna get an awful shocking
At the mocking they engage,
When the only offers knocking
Are from profiteers and souvenir
Collectors making hay.

Having doubled down on doublespeak,
Perfidious Blighty’s gonna reap
Some karma as alarming sway
of asymmetric power licks its lusty lips
And squeezes dry
A desperate pipsqueak’s isolated
Pips.

State Shoots Liberty [#USElection2016]

Just as a golem wrecks at its own pace
And self-indulgent power learns to thrive;
There, at ground level Mercy yearns
To drive Humanity upon a wheel of Grace
And Tyranny’s obsessions to displace
Unto Eternity. From lack derives a paranoia
Willed; Fear kept alive by misery as great
As ever faced. Swap Honour for dogmatic
Spin as slick as oil. Give us your lies, your
Metaphors; your huddled, clichéd, empty
Rhetoric; the grasping garbage of your
scheming jaws. Bring on the vague but
Weighted, wordsome tricks and skim
The Truth beyond the darkened shore.

[Originally posted May 2013]

Inspired by ‘The New Colossus’ by American poet Emma Lazarus (1849–87), a sonnet written in 1883. “In 1903, the poem was engraved on a bronze plaque and mounted inside the lower level of the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty”

Bigot

You can keep your tiny boxes
To yourself, my fundamental fool
Along with all the certainty
In which you have been schooled
For if I thought obnoxious doctrine
Was a relevant life tool
I’d’ve gladly walked the catechism
Of my own accord

So you can take your pious overreach
And shove it where imagination
Festers in your whimsy, flimsy,
Soul-refining mind and wind your neck in
Lest the reckoning
You beckon in is thine;
You mind your own soul, chum
And I’ll take care of mine.

I can do without your pity
And your precious little wisdoms
And your judgemental prescriptions –
You can stick ’em with
Your nonsense conscience
Where the sun don’t shine
Because, despite your crude reproof
I know I’m fine.

 

(Originally posted, August 2013)