Art

I love your writing, man.

 

Chilling...

diggin the haiku format,
sparse yet lingering,
compact yet infinite.

 

Everything changes.​

Nothing is saved.​

Redemption implies something owed;​

Yet Nothing was ever lost.​

The Balance is Imperturbable.​

It is only the Mind that needs Adjustment. ​

"These thoughts are unworthy."​

All thoughts are unworthy.​

Behold!​

The Value of Thought. ​

 

Nothing is saved. Nothing is lost. Contradictory, but it doesn't lose it's coherence. Feels right, even though it looks wrong. It must be Truth.

 

"It must be Truth." lol. That sounds like an accusation.

 

The Wise One exalteth equally in the Workings of Evil as in those of Good; Equally does one enjoy the Exacting of Vengeance to be the Relinquishing of Self. For Balance is Imperturbable; it is only the Mind of Man, in percieving a Curve broader than His ability to see the Future, that laments the appearance thereof, which is necessity. All this talk of the Weak overcoming the Strong; yet both have ever been equally Weak, and equally Strong. AMEN.
​

 

Ouroboros is but the coffin-worm.​

A man can traverse ​

With his mind​

All the Universe​

And still come back to himself.​

The Light of Eyes​

Unified by Blindness​

Unbinds the Ties​

Of stories untold and Hearts unremembered.​

(I would rather people swim on the surface, cursing my name, than drown in the depths, singing my praises. A corpse is only useful to a necrophiliac.)​

 

One never ceases the attempt to regard oneself in the broken mirror.​

It loves the taste of its own medicine. ​

Driven mercilessly into the dirt.​

Root. Shoot. Fruit. ​

AMEN. ​

 

Born From Fire​

I have a mind, a good memory​

Here's how my life begins​

I wasn't born from a woman's thighs​

But from fire​

I dwell on that dream​

I don't want that to fade​

I keep that dream​

Until the axe does all the work​

I was kept under the table​

Raised from their sigh​

I was worthless till the day​

When flames did all the work​

On the day I was born​

They denied my rights​

Even the right to die​

-"Lyrics"(for the whole album)"are based on a single tale from Kalevala, Kullervo's Story"​

 

O my Broken Hope: I Love You, Still.​

Eternity stretches its scarred wings and flies. ​

We will meet again in another Life,​

But not again in this One. ​

O my Broken Hope: Your Optimism is Bitterness.​

But we still swim with the Fish, ​

And drown in the Swamp.​

Murky moments are better than no momentum at all. ​

Go Now, and Die Accursed. ​

I will bear my breast, and you will drive home the Blade. ​

Hearts Bleed and So(u)ls are saved.​

​

 

AD FIDELEM INFIDELEM​

Ah, sweet my sister! Was it idle toil,
When in the flowerless Eden of Shanghai
We made immortal mischief, you and I
"Casting our flame-flowers on the dull brown soil?"
Did we not light a lamp withouten oil
Nursed by unfruitful kisses, stealthily
Strewn in the caldron where our Destiny
Bides brooding-Mother, bid its brew to boil!


Ah, Sweetheart, we were barren as Sahara,
But on Sahara burns our subtle star.
Soon an oasis, now too lone and far,
Shall bloom with all the blossoms of Bokhara:
See! o'er the brim the mystic fountain flows!
Cull from the caldron the ensanguine Rose!

**********​

-Written by Aleister Crowley​

 

Abide in filth, self-slain, dreaming the dreams of the insane. Savor the taste of a flavorless joy, enkindling the puppet, enflaming the toy. Burns, cinders, ashes. Worlds collide as wave to wave clashes. Foam from fire to the exotic dance of open air, destruction, re-pair. Twain will remain for the eyes that lose sight and take flight in the inane. Swimming in the ether with the swan that has died, and​

I. I. I. ​

Stutter. ​

Train sheds track. ALL THIS CLUTTER! Please kill out the freak and the meek and the sleek and leave the beast to its work, to bear for the man the saddle and train him to the bridle and give the devil his due. ​

All praise to GOD.​

spirit courses through ​

***********​

"Truth does not exist, but the lies do."​

-Mudvayne, (Per) Version of a Truth​

 

VIRTUE(The Cycle is Vicious; The Circle is Full)​

How the Works of Desire become the Work of the Will!​

In the profusion of muck that is instinct, fettered as it is by generation after generation of ill-conceived morality, Man finds his Soul, the Phantom, the Fantasy, that stays him from abdicating the struggle to liberate himself from the Swamp. ​

Then: the Breath of GOD; and the Phantom is whisked away, leaving for all to behold: that No-thing which preceeded even the Swamp. ​

Hence Man has come Full Circle to discover: he was never aught but Self; yet self has he transcended.​

To the OB-server this appears the basest mockery.​

This too is the Will of G OD.​

***********​

"The yellow jester does not play ​

But gently pulls the strings​

And smiles as the puppets dance​

In the court of the crimson king."​

-King Crimson, In the Court of the Crimson King​

***********​

The Girl To Whom I Could Not Speak​

As Lovely as a Summer's Day;​

As radiant as Dawn's first Light.​

Unsupposing, unimposing, holds sway​

In a Heart's secret chamber of Night. ​

A pulse like the remnants of slumber​

With the weight and promise of ​

Dreams half-remembered,​

Opens a Soul to its Hidden Flame,​

Whispers a sacred name from​

Life's oft-limbered​

Swell. Death's disengendered cell -​

Currents coalescing; stories to tell​

Of a Time in a Life far-removed,​

Seen through an Eye unbehooved. ​

Before we turned to bay;​

Before they took our right away.​

Before the scent was lost:​

As Lovely as a Summer's Day. ​

 

I don't even know where to begin. This is simply divine, some of the best work I've ever seen for sure. You are awesome man, and I harbor a deep respect for you. The simple mysticism, and the statement "Eternity is a work in progress" and then you split it into a series of posts. There's a yin and yang feel to it as well. Everything forms a whole. I am completely enamored with this right now. This is everything art stands for. I am truly lucky for having the privilege to read it. I'm feeling so much love for you right now it's incredible. Thank you for writing this and sharing it with us.
EDIT

I now relize that this the Tao Te Ching prayers. I actually have a copy. But I'm leaving the above in because I wrote it with passion in the heat of the moment. That's not to say that I don't have a great respect for you, you are an outstanding poet. Much Love.

 

That should be a poem all by itself, as it functions on so many levels.

You've got a thread full of stunning work here... I enjoyed thoroughly. Thanks for the offering!

 

When Fire served its purpose, ​

Destruction reigned supreme.​

Smoke clawed at the sky,​

And Life it did redeem.​

For Nothing was ever lost, ​

And Nothing was there to gain.​

All is cast into the Fire,​

And in the Fire will it remain.​

AMEN.​

***********​

- -​

---​

- -​

---​

- -​

- -​

It is Joy to climb the Mountain.​

It is Joy to brave the Abyss.​

It is Joy to bear the Burden.​

It is Joy to exist.​

***********​

5-3-2006​

To watch a fire die is to feel it come alive again in the Heart. Its Spirit Eternal, it burns unfettered to the inviolable Core, revealing the One from whom it was inherited.​

 

LizardKing: If you meant to say that Verse 82 does not exist in the Tao Te Ching, you are correct. It was my own whimsical addition. I'm sure Lao Tzu wouldn't have minded.

I am joyed that my Work is well-recieved.

 

Wait, I'm a little confused. Is this whole thing your own, or just part? Either way it is amazing. I have a book called "Psychedelic Prayers after the Tao Te Ching" by Timothy Leary. So I'm assuming that Leary sort of adapted them. Anyway, your work is great and I am looking forward to seeing more.

 

double post