Where the Wattle trees are blooming.

S-word, your poetry is amazing...the image complexes flow together seamlessly...your rhymes don't seem contrived...they flow. Your images themselves are wonderful, I'm taken to their places. Keep writing.

 

Thank you chordcat. But I couldn't stop writing if I wanted to.

 

In relation to post #40, in the Thread, "Why did God need to sacrifice Jesus to forgive sin?"

AWAKE MY LORD.

Now, close your eyes slightly and hold your pen tightly
Then call for the spirit within to awake
For it's he who I walk with, who, in you I would talk with,
And here's the request to him I would make.

ARISE! Let your light shine, for now is the right time,
To scatter the darkness and shine forth your light.
Release all your children held fast in the prison
Of those teachers of darkness. Those sons of the night.....By S-word.

 

s-word are these fresh writings as they come, or are they older works ?

 

Some are older, some come as I search for answers to questions that are put to me in this forum, why do you ask rambleON?

I wake up most mornings with a poem running through my head, it is generally related to some problem that I took down with me as I sank into the depths of rest, most are simply throw away poems that were designed to reveal something to me personally.

How many times have you asked something of someone, who has said to you, "Let me sleep on it, and I'll get back to you tomorrow?

 

just getting a measure of your intensity I guess.

 

Well, here's one the I wrote a while ago, the grand-daughter of a friend of mind, had an arguement with her father and he threw her out, something he regretted next day. But she was missing for two weeks, until she was returned home by the police who found her, stoned out of her head, wandering the streets stark naked.

ON THE STREET.

Pale and pallid her face, her hair a disgrace
her clothes all ragged and torn
Bare and filthy her feet as she wandered the streets
And heard the hoons honking their horn.

They grabbed her from behind, but she didn't mind,
These things, they'd happened before.
In the alley she lay while the mob had their way
There must have been seven or more.

When they finished, they ran, she heard the doors slam,
As the car sped away all arattling,
Then she straightened her clothes, brushed her hair, blew her nose,
And continued like nothing had happened.

Down the alley she stopped, behind an old shop,
With a tap and some soap in a tray
Removing her clothes, with the soap and a hose
She washed that nights' filth all away.

Then she thought of her dad, god, she missed him so bad,
Why had she caused so much pain?
To be with him once more like they were once before,
But she knew they'd just quarell again.

And somewhere that father weeps for his daughter,
And prays that she'll come home once more.
All night in his chair, he just sits there and stares,
As he waits for her knock on the door.

And each day as before, he walks out that door
His memory, safe in his keeping.
When his search is in vain, he returns once again,
And asks God, "Where is my baby sleeping?"

It's a blessing I s'pose that he doesn't know
For I'm sure if ever he did;
We'd find him out there near a rifle somewhere,
With a bullet hole clean through his head.....By S-word.

 

This is my post #47, in the Thread, "Why did God need to sacrifice Jesus to forgive sin?"
Rather than separate the poems from that which created tem, I place them here as they cme to me.

With the particle accelerator in Switzerland, do we now have the technology to open the door to the inner dimension?

Of all the poets throughout all time, Robert Service to who I bow the knee, placed Omar Khayyam above all others. Omar with his wine and rose and nightingale, voiced Roberts own pet philosophy of wine and song.

Myself, when young, before being introduced to the word of Robert Service, experienced the most exhilarating sensation on first reading the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam. It was as though there was an awakening within me, a whirling Dervish dancing within, as I read.

Ah! With the grape my fading life provide__
And wash my body whence the life has died
And lay me, shrouded in the living leaf
By some not unfrequented garden-side
That ev’n my buried ashes such a snare
Of vintage shall fling up into the air
As not a true believer passing by
But shall be overtaken unaware……Omar Khayyam.

DOWN TO HIS GARDEN:

Through swirling waters deep and fast, toward the birth of day,
Through fleeting shadows of the past my spirit fled away
Ever inward I was borne upon the streams of time
Receding back toward the dawn, in the hope somewhere I’d find
Somewhere in my distant past my old friend's hallowed grave
And there I stopped and sat at last, beneath the perfumed shade
Where we talked of this and talked of that and shared our time spanned love
And I drank with him the living wine, ‘neath the waning moon above.
There we listened to the nightingale as she sang her age old song
Of summers bright and winters pale, of Sultans long since gone.
And we watered with our tears of love, the blossoms o’er his grave
Then onward through the mists above, rose another who was saved.
One more has been awoken, one more now lives again
One more has joined the gathering; one more came through the flame,
One more now joins our singing as we hurtle back through time
To introduce “Who We Will Be,” to he from who we came.
Now death, where is your victory, now death, where is your sting,
Rejoice you sons of glory, to “Who You Were,” and “Will be,” sing…..By S-word.

Who would dare to descend to the garden of Omar and bring him up?

In the introduction to Fitzgerald’s translation of Omar’s work. It is written that Omar Khayyam died in the year of 1123 AD, and yet in the Glossary of the self-same book, it is said that he died in 1132 AD. According to the Encyclopaedia Britannica, there is some debate as to whether he died in the year 1123, or 1132. It seems strange that the controversy should be between these two date, because from, (The Perfect Way, P. 247) we read, “As the number of the lunar months, ‘thirteen,’ is the number of the woman and denotes the soul and her reflection of God---The solar number ‘Twelve,’ being that of the spirit.

The two numbers in combination form the perfect year of that duel humanity, which above, is made in the image of God—the true “Christian Year,” wherein the two—the inner and outer, Spirit and Matter—are as one. Thirteen then represents that full union of man with God wherein Christ becomes Christ.

Thirteen, represents the physical person, who reflects perfectly the spiritual being within, (The Father and the Son are one) and is represented as the solar number 12 in combination within the thirteen, as shown here, (1123).

But the true “Christian year” should be where the physical being is translated to a spiritual being, which would be represented by the number combination (1132), the physical number 13, within the spiritual number 12, the old tabernacle, stored within the inner most sanctuary of the glorious Temple. A good translation, loses none of the essence of the original from which it is translated.

So, when did the Great King of the Wise, Omar Khayyam die?

Omar was, among other professions, an Alchemist. The search for the Philosopher’s stone was driven, not by the desire to gain great wealth by turning base metals into gold, but the desire to gain eternal life.

E, Underhill, mysteries. P. 170, The stone swallowed by Cronus/Time, is none other than the “Philosopher’s Stone,” the concealed stone of ‘Many Colours,” (Golden Theatise) “The Mystic Seed” of transcendental life, which should invade, tinge, and wholly transmute the imperfect self into spiritual gold.”

The stone will be a crystal of the same shape as the molecule from which it is formed, Zechariah 3: the prophet speaks of his vision of the high priest Joshua, who is stripped of his old filthy garment and given a new clean turban etc, and a Stone/crystal with seven facets is placed before Joshua with his new clean outer garment.

Is it possible do you suppose, to form a molecule from atoms of matter and atoms of anti-matter, which can be held in equilibrium, a state in which they cannot annihilate each other? Such a body would be able to pass in and out of both dimensions.

Omar:

MY FATHER:

When we were young I merged with thee the blood of youth still flowing free
The bread, the wine, the poetry, beneath the old forbidden tree.
How sweet the fruit that we have shared, across the gulf of time we dared
To stand before each other bared and free of guilt, embraced and paired.

Our love beyond earth’s great desire, a love that burns more fierce than fire
I lay me down on broken briar, your son upon the funeral pyre.
Like rings of onions you have peeled the mysteries that the atom sealed
God’s heavenly tablets once concealed, to me, through you, the Lord revealed.

May he in me, with love’s desires, wash your body ere it dies
With fragrance sweet that ne’er expires to snare the righteous passer-byes
The spark of life leaps ever higher, spiraling up from fire to fire
To he, with who we did conspire to grasp the scheme of things entire.

The crystal there beside your seat, the written formula incomplete
My brothers now lay at your feet their offerings that you might eat.
Awake my Lord, for now’s the time to offer to the world your wine
Reveal on every written line, your secrets through these words of mine.
May you, when for your morning sup of heavenly vintage from the soil look up
Through wine that drips down, drop by drop, know He, who holds the inverted cup. By…S-word.

 

Again I will leave the post to which this poem "MAN's DOOM," is revelant.

Zephaniah !: 2-3; (2) The Lord said, "I am going to destroy everything on earth. (3) All human beings, animals, birds and fish. I will bring about the downfall of the wicked. I will destroy all mankind, and no survivors will be left. I, the Lord have spoken.” (18) On the day the Lord shows his fury, not even all their gold or silver will save them. The whole earth will be destroyed by the fire of his anger. He will put and end---a sudden end---to everyone who lives on earth.

Revelation 20: At the close of the Great Sabbath, fire will descend from heaven and incinerate all physical life forms on this planet. Thank heavens, by then the sons of mankind will by established on earth, those who have borne the image of the first Adam and like Jesus, the second Adam, they too will have inherited their share of the immortal body of the great heavenly Simulacrum/blueprint, and whose bodies of mortal corruptible matter, will have been translated to immortal incorruptible bodies of light, as was the body of Jesus “The second Adam,” when he appeared to Saul on the road to Damascus.

They will have prepared a genetic bank of all the fish, birds, animals and a more humble race of man, who will be reproduced anew, when this planet is once more able to support physical life forms.

"MAN'S DOOM."

In dream I saw the heavens ablaze with balls of fire
Huge hailstones that were burning and streaking down the sky
The earth was clothed in purple, dark orange and deep blue
Like a swaddling cloth surrounding us that hid the stars from view.
Dark clouds rose from the mountain peaks; Earth’s veins were opened wide
Through which her inner blood spewed forth in streams of living fire
Whole continents, they heaved and tossed, waves rippled through the ground
In all the earth, no hiding place of safety could be found.

The oceans boiled, they foamed and rose, destroying cities on their shores
All the river dams were busted; valley towns were seen no more
The power stations of the earth? All were melted down
A few survivors of the human race were all that could be found.
And then I saw the winter, a winter so sever
It last not a few short months, but many, many years
And the women who were pregnant, O God; the children that they bore!
Grotesque and hideous malformations, I pray to see that sight no more.

Then when the winter lifted and the crops began to grow
A strange and eerie world emerged from the destruction and the snow
A world with neither day nor night, where even rainbows couldn’t form
In the atmosphere above the earth, and yet the air was strangely warm.
A thousand years of twilight and through that swaddling band on high
Three blood red giants were glowing through a hazed and orange sky.
The sun and moon had turned to blood, yet far brighter than the moon
Was Jupiter the heavenly light, which in time would spell man’s doom……..By S-word.

The major volcanic explosion of Hekla 4 in Iceland, which spewed out massive amounts of larva in 2350 BC, coupled with a close encounter with a passing comet and a Tunguska like fireball, which are believed to have been major issues in the inundation of Island that is said to have been left waste for 30 odd years, and the devastating flood around the Mediterranean Sea, which was the known civilized world in the days of Noah around 2350 B.C, will appear as a non-event when compared to the greatest tribulation that man has ever seen or will ever see again, which is prophesied to occur immediately before “The Day of The Lord.”

If the Magma chamber beneath Yellowstone Park breaks forth, and it is overdue to erupt, then look out world, but that would just be the beginning of the tribulation that will culminate in the annihilation of all physical life forms on this planet. But it's nice to be warned of that which our future holds in store for us. At least that way, we can prepare for the inevitable.

 

I just wrote this one in the Poetry thread entitled, "Titties," not real proud of it, but I guess it just scrapes passed the line of those that I dare to put my name to.

HER DIMPLES

I kissed her on her dimple in the darkness
And I ain't sayin where that dimple was
But it certainly made her hum
When I kissed her on herrrrrr------ dimple
As we waited for the morning light to come.

Then I kissed her on another of her dimples
Cos she's got little dimples every where
And it thrilled her all to bits
When I kissed her on herrrrrr------ dimple
In the garden 'neath the sunrise with me lips.

She's got dimples---- in places no one sees
And her little heart was pumping fiercely
When I said I'd kiss the lot
But when I kissed her on herrrrrr---- dimple
(Phew) Me nose began to wrinkle
And mate---- That's where the kissing had to stop.....By S-word.

 

MY SUNSET.

Sixty years and ten I’ve wandered,
T'ward my sunset down life’s track
So many years of sweat and tears,
With no way of going back
Cos I've gotta keep on moving
Toward my setting sun
And them hills ahead are proving,
More hard walking must be done.

Up ahead, it’s much to dark to see
What’s hidden on life’s track’
And yet the things I’ve left behind me
Seem so clear when looking back,
I’ve done things that filled my heart with joy
And things that caused me pain
On Life’s track I’ve sired a girl and boy,
And I’d do it all again.

A woman walks here by my side,
We’ve been together all these years
At fourteen she swore she’d be my bride,
And she’s shared my joys and tears.
She's lit every pathway that I’ve trod
In this world so dark and deep
And if there’s on thing that I’ll ask my God,
“This angel let me keep.”

For she will lay me down to rest
Where the sweetest blossoms fall
And I know, beyond this sunset,
Some day, I’ll hear her call
Then once again I’ll stand here by her side,
When that new day has begun
And once more I’ll wander with my bride,
Toward another ------ setting sun. ……By S-word.

 

Excellent , truely excellent
Peace be with you

 

thanks mate, it's nice to get a little pat on the back now and then.

 

PRISONER IN TIME.

Grotesque and warped were his paintings,
Reflections that flowed from his mind
The colours, like brilliant explosions
Were neurons bombarding his brain
His poetic words were all scrambled
No rhythm, no sense and no rhyme
This child once the pride of his parents,
Was now but a prisoner in time.

He saw not the bars on his window
As his eyes gazed out o’er the land
Seeing forests, the streams, and the mountains
All ablaze with those colours so grand.
There he saw a child in his vision
He watched as he laughed and he played
For one moment he almost remembered
But that moment soon faded away.

Someone came to visit this morning
Or was it last year? Would he know?
For time to him has no meaning
Last month was a moment ago.
His room, three by three was a prison;
A room where he lived locked in time
Padded walls were his only companions
In their corners he’d hide from his mind.

Now somewhere out there in the suburbs
In a house, unobtrusive and plain
His parents work tireless together
Sharing love, their suffering, their pain;
There the man stands beside his beloved
One kiss, then releasing his hug,
He walks out, to deliver the pamphlets
In their endless war against drugs………By S-word.