Art

I have only one response *grins huugely*

 

"Old habits die hard, and I've lived so fast,
and I know the long way down..."
-Dex Fafara(of Devildriver), Sin & Sacrifice

The Will of the Word of GOD​

is the Beginning of Righteousness,​

the Foundation of the Universe.​

The Lust of the Devil is ​

in the Eye of the Serpent,​

the procession of the elements.​

The Harlequin dance of Alpha and Omega.​

"You will always be drifting.​

You will never be found.​

A servant, so empty,​

you never make a sound."​

-Switcblade Symphony, Naked Birthday​

 

They think that one evil and this one good.​

They speak of how metal slices through wood.​

​

And yet: the work of the scythe is to reap.​

Gaily through the fields I skip, ​

ever-sowing as they weep.​

​

Death Be Not. Proud. ​

 

I enjoyed -johnny appleseed- thoroughly, I got a sense of chaos about it… of reveling in the larger equilibrium.

 

Why love? ​

Conditioned to do so? ​

Yes, and no. ​

For that love which people are conditioned to give: ​

It is not Love at all.​

Need a reason to Love?​

Do not then seek Love.​

The worst of all conditioned love​

is that love which men call unconditional. ​

It does not, cannot, exist.​

For Love, being the union of one and another, under Will,​

necessitates condition as a mode of its fulfillment. ​

Such is the very root of its Beauty,​

the Sublimity of its Art, Star calling​

to Star. ​

 

Such is the very root of its Beauty,
the Sublimity of its Art, Star calling


to Star.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thank you for this.




Relaxation, within comfort.

*

 

The Harlequin dance of Alpha and Omega.

I love that line.

 

"Let us consider a piece of cheese. We say that this has certain qualities, shape, structure, colour, solidity, weight, taste, smell, consistency and the rest; but investigation has shown that this is all illusory. Where are these qualities? Not in the cheese, for different observers give quite different accounts of it. Not in ourselves, for we do not perceive them in the absence of the cheese. All 'material things', all impressions, are phantoms. In reality the cheese is nothing but a series of electric charges. Even the most fundamental quality of all, mass, has been found not to exist. The same is true of the matter in our brains which is partly responsible for these perceptions. What then are these qualities of which we are all so sure? They would not exist without our brains; they would not exist without the cheese. They are the results of the union, that is of the Yoga, of the seer and the seen, of subject and object in consciousness as the philosophical phrase goes. They have no material existence; they are only names given to the ecstatic results of this particular form of Yoga."
-Aliester Crowley, Eight Lectures on Yoga

 

Thank you, and cheers *with an empty glass of sorrow*

 

Light rages, long and hard and strong and bright. ​

Its essence is not lost, nor its force dispersed, ​

though the coals of the Fire be scattered upon the mourn. ​

Its dissolution is everlasting, as is the Night.​

AUMGN​

 

(To the AVR MQVH)

It is your determined ignorance
that has been the cause of my demise.

The Tower is blasted - the Fire lights the skies.

Yet, when the light fades, only night remains -
'Till the Sun peaks over the horizon
And clears away the suffocating pains
that linger from our failure to Union -
No problem, no equation - just apathetic and insane.

Now back to the Foundation, a Cauldron
bubbling with the brew of Androgyny.
Rising therefrom, I collect the sum of experience,
Spirits rising, and falling as dew, into
The vial of quintessence, shining a golden hue.

This was your mistake, O' Beauteous One:-

To think I needed you!​

 

"Don't tempt the fates," they said, with smug assurity.​

But it had not occured to them:​

The Fates had roared the Oracle​

in order to motivate them to think, ​

for themselves, and not about themselves.​

And yet in their folly did they persist,​

As the laughter of the Fates rang clearly​

In the ears of those who would hear.​

For the Fates delight in both destruction and creation,​

Understanding them to be equal, in opposition.​

AUMGN​

 

It could be thusly spoken:​

That for every four I have ruined,​

there is but One that I have saved.​

Yet this One is worth more​

than the sum of the four.​

Fo(u)r they were doomed already to their fate;​

I only served to expodite the process,​

That the One I might liberate. ​

 

Not everyone's road is the same. My feet hurt. My skin is scarred with the repeated gougings of thorns and briars, in this thicket, in this dark wood. The musty smell of some predator's den drifts to me from nearby... I realize it is only the scent rising from the blood-matted hair on my own chest. I raise my fists above my head, look to the sky, and scream. Wind swoops upward from beneath - tree branches part and through that space the Sun shines. I have to close my eyes against its brilliance, but its warmth on my face thrills me throughout, lingers, and radiates from center. The wind moves on. The tree branches settle, leaving me, once more, in shadow. I blink tears of joy from my eyes and wade once again into the brush, ripping up all in my way. I'm making a path. There's a clearing at the end. The Sun awaits.

 

Faith, arising from direct experience,
crystalizes as inner remembrance;
this golden secret heart,
whispers radiance.

Yet in whispering,
the echoes tear
these ephemeral veils asunder;
embracing the tangible child.

 

osiris, your "poems" make me want to masturbate myself to death.

 

"seamus"- by all means, go ahead.

hello, brother sylvan.

 

Greetings brother osiris,

I see mars is molten,
in its ruby discipline,
under our obsidian sky.

* Lights some tobacco *

 

What I've always appreciated about Mars, is that he is what he needs to be when he needs to be IT. He doesn't mince words or make pretenses. He just slays and smiles. He just takes care of business, and does it for the sake of doing it. And this his affinity with Sol, and the Balance of the Universe.

Scourge in hand we advance.

 

Grasping at Phantoms​

The World into which One is born has in abundance every possible mode of fulfillment for that One.​

Yet people spend their whole lives yearning for things they don't really want: insubstantial ideals that grow cold at the dying of the Earthly Fire; half-formed phantoms of smoke, diffused with artificial light, that disperse at the oncoming of the whim of Nature, of Her tempest reply to man's continued pleas for a gratification that She has already offered; all the while these offers continue to be made, and he continues to refuse.​

And yet man whines eternally of Her cruelty, even as he hails her beauty... not understanding that Her cruelty is his pleasure, that her beauty is but the appearance of calm to lull him into a false sense of security, that she may leap from Her place in the high grass, where she had crouched low like a Tigress, to await his timely arrival. ​

Whether she leaps to kill, or to play​

depends on whether man, in horror, turns to bay -​

or whether, in honor, in laughter, in lust of life,​

he stands his ground and joins the fray.​

In this, One can hardly distinguish a life of vulgar hedonism from a life of Divine, Mystical Transcendance.​

The "man"(in this case, humanity)​

should learn to make no difference.​

AMEN.​

***********​

A Commentary to the above piece:​

Our enchantment is a product of our relation to that which intoxicates us, rather than anything latent in that object itself. Take, for instance, alcohol. It is no secret that the key to its intoxicating effect lie in its action on our bodies as a poison. Yet, if applied in the proper amounts, it serves to enkindle in us an ecstacy, a feeling of euphoria. If over-indulged it harms us - may even kill us. This demonstrates that our ability to take pleasure in our environment is a product of our cultivating a right relation with it. In some cases, however, it may be that one finds oneself ensnared in a situation where there is only potential for misery. One must then extricate oneself, wholesale, from that situation.​

There is also that mode of conception that understands both misery and joy to be mere appearances. It exalts in the transmutation of the two by their ecstatic annihilation in Union. Yet it should be noted: that this is only a recursion to what is mentioned above about right relation.​

From the end of the second paragraph onward, in which "man" and "Nature" are the primary characters, it should be emphasised: "man" is humanity(both man and woman) in its masculine role as an aggressor to Nature, who is therein symbolized as woman. Yet the woman consumes the man, so that she is in turn the aggressor and he is destroyed. It is a glyph of how every thing must contain its contradiction within itself - and all the more so - that it might bring itself in right relation with all that it encounters on its dynamic course as a static entity.​

***********​

To The Bereaved:​

I acquiese in the absurdity of Life.​

Yet, unlike yourself, this appraisal yields not the bitter taste of excrement, but rather the sweet, bursting juices of the Grape of Ecstacy into my eagerly awaiting mouth. For the Wine of Bacchus is fermented within, not without, so that there is no need to deny that material by which it is made.​

Times are changing. Children are growing. What need have we of your sorrowing, your petulant whining, your self-castration in the face of the appearance of Death?​

Nonetheless, we weep as we smile, that we may enjoy the sting of salty tears on cracked lips.​

(in rhythm, in rhythm to the swaying of her hips)​

***********​

Precious Jewel​

That precious jewel you made pretense not to possess lost all value when you refused to relinquish it. ​

Did you really believe that this would cease?​

Did you not take heed of the undeniable: your denial?​

The Bornless Beyond turned out to be the Infinite Here and Now.​

Such a tragedy: that you waited so long for Nothing.​

It is to laugh.​

You ignored the evidence of your senses.​

You denied the existance of your Self.​

Your mind created new senses, new evidence.​

Self became self; Heaven became Hell.​

Ice melts - glacier torrent,​

Until Life is no longer abhorrent.​

Veil, Veil, Veil, Veil, Veil.​

Lives to barter; souls for sale.​

Yet God and the Devil were but twain phantoms, Spirits rising from the Eternal Burning of the One Substance.​

The Trees and the Rocks, the Wind and the River that flowed out into the Ocean - these things(mere things!) proved to outlive them, yet held the imprint of their memory.​

I made Love to these things and they repaid me in kind. I made War with God and the Devil alike, only to find the Dagger planted firmly in my own Heart.​

Yet even this passed away. And again, the Bornless Beyond. And again, the Infinite Here and Now.​

O Death! I am the River and you are the Ocean; yet the Depth of our Union is the symbol of our Ageless Love! I have Hated you, only to be the Fire hidden beneath your Earthen floor. I have burst through. I am no more. ​

Speak, then, not of me; but hold the imprint of my memory.​

***********​

Q.U.I.P.​

If beauty were in the eye of the beholder, how then would that eye percieve beauty, lest it percieve itself?​

Ah. The unceasing rhetoric of the mystical moron.​

Sometimes you just wish he would open up and admit​

That he is just another vessel full of shit.​

Ah. The unceasing criticism of the skeptic.​

Sometimes you just wish he would shut up and eat his cake.​

After all, you went to such great trouble to prepare it. ​

All that the male lion does is Fight and Fuck; Eat and Sleep.​

I implored the Gods: "How do I become a male lion!?"​

In reply came the assurance that such a life would bore me.​

Ah. The unceasing lies of the Gods. ​

***********​

A Final Word(Clarification)​

YAY​

MOM DID DAD​

MOM DID DAD​

YAY​

DAD DID MOM​

YAY​

ShIT.​