Posts Tagged ‘spirit’

the-she-wolf

Twisted down and broken

Maddened and unopened

I take my time

Mired in slime

From the moment

Into the meat of each echo of the moment

 

Howling bone

Couple of cones

Dead weight daydreams

Silent death screams

Being gentle with myself

Cut out the super-critical conscience

Look at the evidence for negative self-talk

Rest and let the spirit run

Through fields of daffodils

Like a stallion

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voices
He hears
He hears
Voices in his head
In his head
Voices from inside
Voices from his mental address
Not like the voices from outside
Pleading voices
Begging voices
Commanding voices deciding choices
Voices in his head
Map out his road through life
Forbid actions
Permit actions
Voices in his head
Voices
In his head
To tell him what to do
If he ever wondered what to do
Might be the spirits of dead ancestors
Or passing demons sweeping out of desert places
Voices
Voices
In his head
In his head
He hears voices in his head
Like a mystical mental radio
Like a repeating verbal collage
He hears voices in his head

shaman-1

Always madness knocking at the door
Unmedicated schizophrenics sucking up my time
Rambling to themselves while staring in the mirror
Muttering inflammatory rhetoric and racism
Denying that they have any mental illness
Telling me that the CIA and the NBN are reading their brainwaves
Telling me that there are messages for them in the ads in X-presss
Telling me that the whole planet is being monitored and controlled by the Masons
Convinced that their medication is poison

But these are God’s children
And we must love them no matter how annoying they may be
In tribal societies they would be shaman
With one foot in the spirit world and one foot in reality
Hearing spirit voices and interpreting them for the tribe
Going on mystic journeys accompanied by spirit animals
Speaking in poetry
Mystifying and incandescent

We used to fill them full of anti-psychotics and sit them in corner
Increasingly now they roam free
Sometimes mystifying and inspiring, sometimes annoying and repetitive
Sometimes even dangerous to themselves or others
But they definitely make the world a more interesting place

earth

Wonder at the Earth- a jewel in black velvet space
Sea blue globe with swirling clouds like ripped gauze
Stars pinpricking light into my eyes
Each one a sun, maybe with planets rotating around in an ancient spin
Each one a whole encompassing reality for it’s inhabitants
And cryptic crazy aliens meeting my gaze across the cosmos with greenish translucent skin and feet like frogs
Each one of us living out the meaningless tedium of life
Buoyed by intermittent bursts of serendipity and joy
Overwhelmed by emotions at times
Like tidal waves crashing on sandy shores
We must hold them in and then forget them
Oh to be free of this puzzle box life
Stuck on the Earth with all the other suffering beings
I dream of whirling my brain through galaxies and nebulas,
Dodging black-holes, spiralling across the universe
A spirit on axis grokking the cosmic light at hyper-speed
Hold my hand while we encompass each flaming star
And dance with me my darling, as time bends around us

crazy

Come all you twiddlers at the edges of sanity
Come all you cases, you syndromes, you diagnoses
Come all you students of advertising for secret messages
Come all you crazies, you weirdos, you saints, you martyrs
Don’t be afraid of your aromatic nuttiness
And take it all a bit too far
Dance in the mud on magic mushrooms while angels dance in your hair
Nod of in a corner on immaculate Thai white smack
Smoke rock and get a tattoo of a Wookie
Thrive on the helium atmosphere of pixie dust perversion
Hit on your nurses and steal other peoples’ medication
Baste your bottoms in cream cheese and stuff that monkey full of plums
Until it feels more real than sanity knows while your madness grows

Beat down the bushes around your consciousness and let your spirits soar in infinite space
Because now is the time and this is the place

Necromancy

Posted: June 5, 2014 in poetry
Tags: , , ,

spiritvengance
Old enough to know better and ten steps closer to hell I cast my runes of bone across a pentagram to set the spirits free
They rattle over the mahogany table and their rattle calls out to the spirit world
My head fills with spinning dervishes of dust as I contemplate a wicked craft and voices of the dead whisper incessantly: half remembered bits of memory and spun and used to new use,
I intone an Aramaic incantation over the runes invoking a thousand unclean spirits and they stir in the spirit world and dance to my tune
There is a knock at the door
I open it and there is no-one there
A form gradually coalesces over the top of the table: white, translucent, full of holes, whispery smoke.
The etheric spirit breath swirls around the table as a mouth begins to form in the figure
A deep, sepulchral, flesh-shredding voice yells from the most festering dank pit of hell: ‘Who has awakened me from my sleep?’
The phantom knows my name it says, for it comes straight from the talons of Beelzebub
For all the ghosts and phantoms are possessed, the dead possessed by Satan’s minions
Demons and demon spawn yelping madness, suicide and death into the ears of the vulnerable pea strained souls who lurk in the world
My flesh shrinks into my bones and my pupils open up like bottomless pits
I hold the spirit in my power, it cannot eat my soul, it twists and jerks against the magic chains
‘Tell me spirit, does God watch us now?’
The spirit replies, ‘ God watches us all and he laughs at every instant of happening.’
I start to feel guilty about breaking the command against necromancy so I bid the spirit to leave and it departs, saying ‘Learn that you are mortal, son of Adam’.
Then there is silence- the spirit is gone- I am left with a frazzled, blow-dried brain
I pack a cone and feel guilty for having indulged in sorcery.

The Spirit

Posted: June 1, 2014 in poetry
Tags: , , , ,

Ghost_Rider+Concept_Art_by_Jerad_S_Marantz_01a
I am the spirit of these death-wish times,
I am the ferry in slow motion journeys across consciousness,
I am lightning and fear of ducks,
I am the ionosphere of longing.
All who have ears, let them hear:
I am the crux of vain suspension of disbelief,
A vein in the tattooed neck of inscrutability,
I watch while you carry out your schemes and laugh at your failures.
I am there if you win or lose and I am transparent with satisfaction in the hooligan night.
I am there when you are shaking with loneliness in an empty room,
I watch while you drink to colourise your soul,
And I watch while you sleep.