The intolerable tyrant will meet a mighty end.
The worst of fates Beset
those who dismiss and abuse
Boys who want to be Gods
pretending to be men.
will be cast in stone
and tossed below
for their sins.
Artemis is hunting.
Caireen is crying out.
Stylianos has abandoned refuge
and Jizo is awake.
Nicholas of Myra is a
Patron on the take.
There is work to be done
for the cause of the soul.
A child kept
in a cage
Ask Bes to keep you.
The storm is quick to rise.
Time is watching now
and it’s ready for a fight.
Beset- Female counterpart to Bes
Artemis- Diana Nemorensis
Nicholas of Myra- Saint Nicholas
Caireen- Cailleach’s Irish Counterpart (although I believe they are two different imaginings)
Jizo- Jizo Bodhisattva
When the mood strikes she can be anything.
A rigged explosion of love, fury, envy, and greed.
Ready for sacrifice in the shadow of Kali.
Be wary young Bird, she will tell you true.
The Ego devours a heart on the hunt
it can destroy you.
Kali is walking in your stead.
A bull without horns
can still see red.
To be continued…
Pitter Patter, raise a glass.
Your commencement is here at last.
You climbed up top and starred him down.
No one’s left to oppress us now.
He set the stage, you played him out.
One step in trust, one in doubt.
Your storied championship
is the toast of the town.
Every woman knows
a tiny king is nothing
without his tiny crown.
The dung twig sprouts
and the spotted Owl sings.
There is joy to be had
in old beginnings.
Seven crows, seven poles
digging in an open hole.
Into the red mud,
the centuries recounting.
This is my final turn
to begin again.
Drenched in the red
of this sweet Earth.
A new life planted in the dirt.
Seven rows for seven new souls,
the last of the firsts.
She, with her Magpie mind,
was drawn and fated, bound to shine.
She spoke in all tongues and made light of the dark.
She said yes to Bacchus and refused refuge on Noah’s famed Ark.
The black feathered Maven, white breasted and fair
would not be kept, so she took to the air.
Her triumph of choice taking on chance
evoked a curiosity bound for romance.
She made up her heart to make two of one,
and looked to the stars to see it done.
Determined to reach them, radiant and bright,
she forged a great bridge and lept into flight.
On the seventh night of the seventh moon,
she became forever illuminated in the arms of Altair.
Seekers in the dark still find her there.
Wary of wolves and worshipped with wine,
tales of her saga were shared far and wide.
One for sorrow, two for luck.
When the light goes out,
Count the crows and watch your souls!
We are walking in dark times.
Keep a window open, lock down your doors.
What goes out can’t come in.
Nothing can be the same again.
All of the pain inherited.
It has been genetically foretold.
The end of man will come at his own hand,
ravaged by his soul.
The Trinity complete,
the birds are watching now.
Three Crows in a row,
will see it all play out.
It’s like that crack of blue
in the naked wood.
When all the trees are falling.
You can almost hear the past
in the waters running.
into the sinking ground,
and watching for the sky;
if you stay there long enough
you can hear time die.
She existed from the start of it,
molding stones and making mountains in her wake.
Watching over the wild of the world as the seasons changed.
She was the last of the forgotten left to make battle with the Sun.
Eternity kept her there.
She was the only one.
In the frail dips of ages,
her power began to grow.
The land was getting hotter now,
and her memory was old.
The Winter was within her.
It kept her young heart warm.
She roamed the land to collect its bits,
preparing for her storm.
Her hammer, once so mighty, could only
grant the cold of ice.
Her blue eyes, once young and shining, were now
the black of night.
With pale veins of blue and the sharpest sight,
this forgotten Goddess was ready for her fight.
to be continued…
The Beaver Moon woke me up this night,
to announce its glory.
It casted a halo, large and bright.
The entire dark became light.
The dogs howled and the wolves did too.
The dead turned over and the hours stopped.
Rest is not permitted. You must be awake.
Open your weary eyes, and set your heart on still.
The Beaver Moon is here to take its take.
In the morning the sky grows pink after the moon does set.
It’s a hue of the sky’s night. It feels like tears and the ground is wet.
I tried to capture the colors, orange, pink, and blue.
The entire world outside my little window now,
All hail to the rise and fall of the Beaver Moon.