Technicolor Tech

Confessing the secrets of time,
Time, the query- the element,
This is storm-riding the wave
of my making.

Veiw

Ambered in a light,
Dissolved, girl,
witch, space-bound
Scene or unseen,
water and green
systemic bound to
unbind the seething

Morn

What sayeth the oracle
Oh, prophet? Brewing,
always brewing, the
cauldron, remember
yourself, nothing. Star.

Twilight, a poised moment
End run, That's what they
call it. What it means?
Elvis impersonators In
The Afterlife, appearing
multitudinous a ditty,
with three part harmony?j

Of course, it gets weirder.

Praxis

I arrive, a writhing hive of minds:
Scintilla effervescent is the Vibe
Summoning channel in the Flow
That half, right hand, to throw like
a man, such sayeth the wise one
the mantra joins harmony with the
hum of creation-- and those are
Pearls of second sight, mine eyes--
Apple to taste onion to scent,
Lamp lit, pretty blades aglitter,
Ting tang. Eleven chimes. Lucinda
in the Lyrids, enchanting the harp
to sing a Goddess's human tale,
cosmos speaking the I and AM.

Magic

To overthrow the world,
a human lifetime of
love, rage, insatiability

Stars are born this way
in this cauldron, beauty
itself the oracle, practiced

Acquiet

It's a strange place,
wholly enchanted,
as ere was haunted,
and it's haunted,
beyond and beyond,
this is the program,
and the place of 11,
weird as weird does,
ting tang bing bang.

Wholly in and
never advised
Except the excepts
of abstraction
and rhizome
cosmologies

This is starmaking,
Igniting alchemical
contradiction
Starbeing burn
dross of culture
to perfect purity
all in the end
becomes abstraction

Nostalgia

Memory's Exquisite Sweetness, ]]
Honeyed dimensions Ordinary
Cast against looming Doom

Squirrels play on the oak
Dappled morning glow
All emerges continuous

Sparkled-Tongued

Medusa Mask and a Harp
Galactic-Aeolian. Even I
See the dark center that
Twists in Secret of the
Sun, That aperture's Horse
Best Appraised, this a
War in Heaven soldiered
Thus. In the story--- this.
Surge, tidal, Mystique
Perfumed Day, Splendor's
Night, conjure simply,
sweetly, the Next. Born,
Bornless.

Medusa Dark Goddess,

The natural extension of Swinburne's attitudes occurs not in England but in Italy, where Gabriele d'Annunzio develops a Medusan ideal of sensuous and aesthetic intoxication. The confessed apostle of Swinburne's position, d'Annunzio inherits the two paradoxical bases of the Englishman's poetic credo: an extreme care for matters of poetic craft, and an emphatic commitment to irrational, or perhaps supra-rational, goals. On these grounds Praz will pronounce him doubly damned--as both a Decadent and a Barbarian. [14]

Twilight Zone

5,000 Spirits or the Layers of the Onion, Incredible String Band

Sacrament

This Self
Full Invoked
Universe has
Become itself
oneness and One
polarity's full
Antidote itself
Contains

Mountain Energy

Smart for a girl,
as they laugh and smoke,
and I laugh and smolder,
what big eyes, have I,
sing myself electric--
bubble bubble toiling trouble
fire to yonder kindle break
sunder the return --

I let it run free. This
thought engine, for what
it speaks. Cut. Equanimity.
All things break. even to
exist. Exist.

Serpentine's resiliency
coiled, cellular and
new. The caduceus
twin. The evolution
-- Material manifests.
My bouncy nature,
to reject all negative.

THE GLOW WORM

The following chapter from The Book of Lies, or Liber 333, was placed at the top of my blog on Sunday May 24th 2009 and all week long I asked anyone who wished to partake in the discussion to feel free to join in and send me their views, ideas and interpretations. The end result is this Epistle.

11

ΚΕΦΑΛΗ  IA

THE GLOW WORM

Concerning the Holy Three-in-Naught.

Nuit, Hadit, Ra-Hoor-Khuit, are only to be understood

by the Master of the Temple.They are above The Abyss, 

and contain all contradiction in themselves.

Below them is a seeming duality of Chaos and

Babalon; these are called Father and Mother, but

it is not so.  They are called Brother and Sister,

but it is not so.  They are called Husband and

Wife, but it is not so.

The reflection of All is Pan: the Night of Pan is the

Annihilation of the All.

Cast down through The Abyss is the Light, the Rosy

Cross, the rapture of Union that destroys, that is

The Way.  The Rosy Cross is the Ambassador of Pan. 

How infinite is the distance form This to That! Yet

All is Here and Now.  Nor is there any There or Then;

for all that is, what is it but a manifestation, that is,

     a part, that is, a falsehood, of THAT which is not?

   Yet THAT which is not neither is nor is not That

     which is!

   Identity is perfect; therefore the Law of Identity is

     but a lie.  For there is no subject, and there is no

     predicate; nor is there the contradictory of either

     of these things.

   Holy, Holy, Holy are these Truths that I utter,

     knowing them to be but falsehoods, broken mirrors,

     troubled waters; hide me, O our Lady, in Thy

     Womb! for I may not endure the rapture.

   In this utterance of falsehood upon falsehood, whose

     contradictories are also false, it seems as if That

     which I uttered not were true.

   Blessed, unutterably blessed, is this last of the

     illusions; let me play the man, and thrust it from

     me!  Amen.