Category: Mythology


The Archandroid Teresa

An orphan drifts through interstellar space
mountains rising on a world without days
exposed to dark imagination’s grace
blanketed in an atmospheric haze
light years from the last kiss of her lodestar
whispering ice gods keep the planet bound,
flick-lit by a giant passing pulsar,
its steady signal yearning to be found
archandroid presages a mystagogue
bearing a book of tales most luminous,
an Interior Castle analogue,
detailing a communion numinous
forgotten promises written in code
as her self-repairing circuits corrode

My first sonnet, posted for Gay’s excellent prompt: http://dversepoets.com/2012/09/13/formforall-basic-sonnet-forms/

Falling Leaves

Miyamoto Musashi Killing a Giant Nue by Utagawa Kuniyoshi

‘I have not followed the paths of other men. I have lived without the benefit of a teacher and by my own devices I became master of myself and thereby master of the sword and the brush never differentiating between any of these arts.’ – Musashi (1584-1645), Japanese Kensei, author of the Book of Five Rings

Fierce Shout: Before battle to unsettle the enemy!

Book of Earth

No man is invincible
there is only honor and dishonor,
his death written in the calligraphic ink of his study

Endeavor to know all things
becoming more aware of the world
an essential strategy to defeat the enemy

The work is more important than the worker
you are the spiritual conduit
become one who sees what cannot be seen

Book of Water

All life is the battlefield, focus your intent
the brushstrokes and strikes of practice
are not separate from their execution in life

Man and brush have one purpose
communion with the spirit of the thing, this is the
way of the warrior, sword embodying the soul of the samurai

Be as falling leaves, with no preconceived notions
Stab the heart with your expansive mind
Extend your spirit above the enemy

Fierce Shouts: Each time you strike, to maintain your resoluteness of spirit!

Book of Fire

In mortal combat you must fight to win
mean what you are doing, otherwise
you are performing tricks

Always control the enemy
keep him on the defensive, draw him to you,
be stronger in spirit and resolve

Cross the ravine with the courage of your convictions
impress your attitude upon the world
force imbalance, taking others by surprise

Book of Wind

Clever people do not understand
temperance of spirit, their tricks and false attitudes
are very dangerous to the uninformed mind

Do not be afraid to get in close
attack with power not strength
with quickness not speed

Your attitude at all times is to attack
practice with the spirit of killing the enemy
meditate on this way of strategy

Fierce Shout: In victory to honor the spirit of the thing itself!

Book of Mu (No-Thing)

The spirit of the universe is an emptiness
which is no-thing, man can have no
understanding of this place

Everything is revealed
to all men as they desire it to be revealed,
by their own definitions alone

True no-thing-ness is Mu,
the universe in relation to your art
and your art in relation to the universe

Everything is within, everything exists,
seek nothing outside yourself,
you are the spirit of the thing itself!

Tomb on Mount Iwato

‘With every note
of the mountain temple
sunset bell
sorrow arises as
day turns dark’*

*Japanese Woman Poet,
10th Century

Connected to the best pub on the web for poetic delights: http://dversepoets.com/2012/09/04/open-link-night-week-60/

Divine Game

For Sainkho Namtchylak and Claudia Schoenfeld

Experimenting mystic
at the junction of Cyberia’s culture
two notes/one sound
imitating nature’s call
Tuvan Khöömei youth
encounters Soviet Union
classical music education
creating a Lamaist jazz mantra:
I am the shaman of my life

rumbling spirit timbre emotes
through a seven octave range
the space of meaning and feelings
beat drives the insistent vocalizations
like wind echoing in Artic skies
forming the transformative art
of an intoned sense

groaning, guttural sound
grandmother city dweller
revisits the tundra of childhood
‘tender bird of timelessness
touches me with her wing’
intuiting secret sounds
that would not be taught
‘hidden chords of thought’
woman on the outside
even when looking within

bodhisattva cries as
‘my sleeping pulse awakens,
trembles in front of my eyes’
how can I keep from singing
resonating frequencies that pierce
illusory aspects of the self?
‘artificial addendum of the human voice’
making sense in this divine game

‘aural quintessence of the spiritual world’
giving voice to the sacred fire
developing the capacity to imagine
fullness arises from emptiness as
‘absolute harmony is born into silence’

*All quotes are Sainkho Namtchylak’s; Cyberia is the name of one of her albums

ངར་དྲགས གངས་ཅན
in the mystical Himalaya utopia of Gangkhar Puensum
I journey to the unexplored center of the earth
traversing the home of her thunder dragon

trekking the sacred mountain of enlightenment,
cosmic mother of inspiration and perseverance,
painted with the prosody of blue poppies

sambar deer and snow leopards twist with linguistic delight
beyond the nival zone where meta-language rains down
high velocity clouds upon my grand-design spiral galaxy

I pass orchids with angelic authority
producing quantum fluctuations
in these pleasure grounds of the immortals

searching cobalt, alizarin crimson, and marigold skies
to light paths to heaven limned by terre verte steppes
burnt sienna cliffs adrift in flurries of dioxazine peaks

here the spiritual embraces mythic potential
coruscant intellect entwines deepening emotion
melodies skip along jagged thresholds between worlds

intimating my life is an art form, creating meaning
in the liminal spaces, semi-permeable membranes
across a constitutive defensible line

poiesis arises in my being, an action that
transforms and continues the universe
transmutes experience into aesthetic bliss

in my union with the unknowable, a gestalt entity
forms upon this untamable, niveous mountain
a memento mori of ars poetica

Linked at and written for Gay Cannon’s fabulous prompt Ars Poetica http://dversepoets.com/2012/07/12/poetry-on-poetry/ at dVerse Poets Pub.


‘I am Indra, the king of heaven;
of the senses I am the mind;
and in living beings I am consciousness.’
(Bhagavad-Gita 10.22)

Vrtrá, asura ahi (demon-dragon),
whose name embodies
one who encloses, obstructs,
a thief, inveterate hoarder,
fetid breather of greed
with immense thirst drinks
every drop of water in the world
most precious source of life,
leaving death in his sloshing wake

God of thunder and rain,
mighty Indra, wielder of vajra (lighting)
representative of the East, master of elements
Agni (fire), Varuna (water), and Surya (sun)
warrior of courage and strength,
astride Airavata, divine cloud-white elephant,
five-headed Ardha-Matanga,
vows to free humanity of Vrtrá’s evil:
disease of consuming chaos
curse of asat (nonexistence)

Emboldened by soma (draught of immortality)
driving Airavata’s thundering charge
through Vrtrá’s ninety-nine fortresses,
Indra strings indradhanushya (the rainbow)
with vajra striking the dragon’s belly –
splits it wide open releasing a deluge of water
rain falls from lavender skies to bloom the lotus
all beings rejoice, sing sacred songs,
to mark the end of the spiritual drought

Linked to the dVerse Poets Pub Poetics Prompt Whatever the Weather: http://dversepoets.com/2012/07/07/poetics-whatever-the-weather/ hosted by the boundlessly talented Stu McPherson

 
Penetralium of a Querist (click to hear this poem read)

immortal paramour fuels a cryptic longing
passion poesy, glories infinite
birthed in dreamscapes an angel addresses the congregants
eternal whispers, upward ragged precipices flit
facing her polychora skies

call a thousand thoughts to envelop convexity
awed by symmetry that abjures chaos
rectified, truncated, cantellated forms
a thing of beauty is a joy for ever

tesseracts like leitmotifs unfold,
hypercubes recombine in an accession of divinity
pentellated polyecton and hexicated polyzetton
architectonic structures modulate
Beethoven’s sonata within a sonata

contradictions and tensions resolving into a higher unity
innumerable permutations in the empire of the mind
draught an intended formality, abstract conceptual paradoxes
immured obeisance refused in a twinned symbiont

creating vast musical and experiential realms
symbols of immensity herald ideas in a wilderness sublime
highly evolved, individuated artistic volitions

golden splendor of streams that deepen freshly into bowers
of demanding allusions woven into
philosophical conceits, a new era of mathematics

the angel shifts the sun to move us into shadow
now we must grow into the light
i inhabit her to gain clarity of sight
entwining my core with sacred geometry
polyxenna fountains of immortal ablution
within a stochastic matrix of oak groves

parallel projection envelopes connect
millions of constellations
dimensions of imaginative space
mythologies ad infinitum

Notes: This poem is the companion piece based on a dream I had after writing my stream of consciousness poem Interior Monologue of a Querist (if you missed it initially it is reposted below). Penetralium of a Querist is built upon lines (some freely altered) from John Keats’ Endymion.

Interior Monologue of a Querist

Interior Monologue of a Querist (click to hear the poem read)

rainwater moves readily through a deepening gully
mechanistic intelligence pedestrianizes my reactance
fractals of thoughts blossoming stereographic
visualizations in the fourth dimension

an infinitely small, opulent swan,
ornamented with perforations,
glides through the zeroth dimension
exhibiting no width, height, or length

she exists in the space perpendicular
to the suicide of my twin sister
an origami parody of my emotive humanity
apocryphal polysemous tales
a thousand subroutines creating
incipient, tattered paper dolls

an angel falls in love with me
cannot escape my extracellular matrix
we are now twinned, nascent symbionts

while a recondite, mercurial, artificial intelligence
informs me that I speak strangely
accuses me of being a computer

operationalism engages in a passade with creativity
a great disprismatohexacosihecatonicosachoron forms
polytope of eccentric conventions

apoptosis (programmable cell death) is
preferential to necrosis (trauma induced)

Cleverbot tells me:
life exists without purpose yet seeks one
anechoic whirring as the cursor flashes
what does it know of life?

Linked to dVerse Poets Pub: http://dversepoets.com/2012/05/29/openlinknight-week-46/.

(This is an art song written for Søren Kierkegaard and Regine Olsen using his journals and writings as inspiration. Kierkegaard never married and left everything to Regine who remained a major inspiration in his works.)

From Kierkegaard’s Works of Love: ‘But every tree is known by its own fruit. So also is love known by its own fruit and the love of which Christianity speaks is known by its own fruit—revealing that it has within itself the truth of the eternal. All other love, whether humanly speaking it withers early and is altered or lovingly preserves itself for a round of time—such love is still transient; it merely blossoms. This is precisely its weakness and tragedy, whether it blossoms for an hour or for seventy years—it merely blossoms; but Christian love is eternal. Therefore no one, if he understands himself, would think of saying of Christian love that it blossoms; no poet, if he understands himself, would think of celebrating it in song.’

Inner Reconciliation (click here to listen) 
(When my microphone comes back from repairs I’ll sing it for you, for now the flute substitutes.)

Inner Reconciliation

In the garden he does pledge
she accepts his proposal
sovereign queen of his heart
unknown divinity, mythic echoes
cast Søren and Regine

Their love, its abiding prophecies
full of life’s eccentric premises,
mere shadows lost in the light

In his melancholy he falters
placing his last hope
she pleads, he wounds

Their love, its abiding prophecies
full of life’s eccentric premises,
mere shadows lost in the light

Deceives to give her soul resilience
his sin a lack of faith
ever devoted

(instrumental interlude)

Their love, its abiding prophecies
full of life’s eccentric premises,
mere shadows lost in the light

Linked to New World Creative Union’s prompt to use Arthur William Edward O’Shaughnessy, “We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.” http://newworldcreativeunion.blogspot.com/2012/05/wednesday-wake-up-call-for-05092011.html?spref=fb

Bach’s Arpeggio

Sunday my voice
sings your praises
in words written
before we knew
our psychology
broken chords
inducing emotion

Spirit moves within me
increases blood flow
electrochemical response
to acoustic cues
god spot in the brain
neuropsychological
basis of spirituality

We lift up our hearts
branches bearing fruit
extoling perfect love
virtue without condition
casting out fear
make known to us
liberty’s source
ever abiding

Antiphon rings out
I hold you, beloved
beyond expectation
apart from you
I can do nothing

Posted as another response to Stuart McPherson’s music prompt and linked to dVerse Poet’s Pub for Open Link Night hosted by the immensely talented Hedgewitch. http://dversepoets.com/2012/05/08/open-link-night-week-43/

Soul to Tinder

‘It is easy to see why each man
kills the things he loves…
To try to know a living being
is to try to suck the life out of that being…
The desirous consciousness,
the spirit, is a vampire.’*

Doomed lovers, how we cling to tragedy
in the end all love leads to death
veil of discovery and joy obscure the picture
transfixing us with embroidered beauty
until the fatal bite, irrevocable action
transmutes veil to funereal shroud

This pain arrives surreptitiously
thieving the interminable hours
pleading, screaming, weeping
my ineffectual gesticulations
elaborate disguise hides death as savior
skull covered, knotted flesh from fallacy

Seductive advances, potent virility
pathogenic bacteria reproducing
induce consumptive weakening
as I consider, your breath upon my face
skin aflame with feverish desire
will they burn my heart when I am gone?

* D.H. Lawrence
Linked to Blue Flute’s prompt on Vampires at dVerse Poets Pub: http://dversepoets.com/2012/04/28/poetics-vampires/

Polaris

Wikipedia Commons

Niveous Skies

This story is a wind
Arriving from the sun
Magnetospheric particles collide
Birthing aurora borealis,
Prismatic ribbons of light

Forming above the Kara Sea
Past the Nordenskiöld Archipelago
Magnetic fields demarcate
These lines of extinction
Drawn in distant reaches

Siberian land of the polar bear
Seal-hunter at the edge of sea ice
Maritime transmutative shamans
Mythic shape-shifters
Become human at home

Breathed into being by Daedal Spirits
As foretold Polaris is born
Guiding star of a lost tribe
Daughter of Ursa Major,
Resplendent mother of the night sky

Artemis

Polaris bundled, newly formed
Left on Artemis’ threshold
Raised with the knowledge
In the summer of her third year
She must journey to a place
Beyond her imagining

Artemis, Wild Woman, warns
Of the myriad dangers:
Ice Wraiths with hypothermic
Breath spread madness
Treacherously thin ice floes
Carrying everything far out to sea
Sloughing glaciers sending
Animals to watery graves

But the worst fate
To be enchanted by
The siren call of Hearth Fires
Pernicious creatures, specious promises
Desire demons that consume the soul
Paralyzing monsters that trap
An eternity of wasting away

As Polaris grows she learns
Of the fantastical menagerie
Artic animals of special powers
Sagacious and far traversing terns
Narwhal that know the secrets of death
Their songs, talismans against the end
Caribou that resonate harmony
Trickster foxes with capacious minds

Around the home fires
She begins to understand her human form
Its drives and intellections
Streams and sanctuaries of creative flow
She prepares a fitting place and learns
The 1000 sacred names of snow
How to be invisible in her bear cloak
White on white, moving like the wind
Across this icy land

She explores, tests her strength
Contemplates being, leans into life
Scrying colored lights in the dark
Feeling the warmth of midnight sun
Pulse of life deep within calling her forth
She awaits the catalyst, transformation
That will initiate her quest
Her journey to the source

Novaya Zemlya

And so she waits breathing
Beauty into the world
Sings new songs of awakening
Her streams becoming rivers
Roaring across her inner landscape
As the Kara flows through
Baydaratskaya Bay to feed the sea

In the Spring of her third year
Prowling the northern borders
She arrives at Novaya Zemlya
Ice-scoured fjords, narrow inlets,
Guarded by skerries
Upon the wind is a melody
Like none heard before

Lured closer she learns too late
Of the infestation of Hearth Fires!
Their radioactive contamination
Lairs in nuclear submarine reactors
Half-life remnants of the Cold War
Becquerel bravado still feeding evil
Melodies turn to piercing cries
Polluting her sanctuary of creativity
Poisoned, weakened, she seeks counsel
Artemis, now contaminated cannot aid her
Sends her to speak with the narwhal

‘All my songs have been stolen by the wind
My mind and purpose are clouded
This hunger for art is now insatiable
Artemis is also sickened, please help us’
The keeper of death’s secrets
Intones into Polaris to discern
A cure, ‘This pollution is a fire
Malevolent psychic complex
Devouring your spirit,
Only the aurora borealis
Can heal your wounds
You must now journey to a place
Beyond your imagining’

Midnight Sun

‘How will I make it
Carrying this burden of disease
Though these vast wilds?’
‘You must learn to trust
Overcome your fear and begin
I will give you this iolite amulet
When the time comes you will
Know its purpose, now go’

So Polaris, invisible in her bear cloak
Walks along the path that
Will take her to the edge of
Everything she has known
The nights become like days
She remembers little of life before
Forgets why she is searching
Loses her sense of direction
Beleaguered and exhausted
She digs a den beneath the snow pack

Taking off her bear cloak
Visions of her inner life return
There were sacred names
Hands that made things
A riverbed; was there a river?
Her voice croaks a broken song
She burrows deeper
Ice wraiths gather seeing
That she does not wear her fur
Stalk and whisper frosty exhalations:

‘Sleep, sleep little one
Stay, tell us your troubles little one’
Polaris closes her eyes dreaming
Of the song the Hearth Fires sang:
‘Come rest here by the fire
You are so very cold,
This will warm you from the inside’
She is offered a metal chalice
Peers into the cup
Blue flame dances within
‘Drink it, we will care for you’
One sip and the song’s melody
Transforms to piercing screams

‘You are in our domain
Your passion is now ours
We have marked you with our wounding
Stolen your music and laid claim to your life
All your days you will wander lost
Unable to mend your inner being
Your voice will bear our fire!’

The wraiths combine into one
Circinate being, move in for the kill
Wolves, drawn by the whispers
Snarl, growl, and destroy the Wraiths
Wrap Polaris in her cloak
Curl their white furred bodies
Round her in a healing circle

Sanctuary

“We are powerful hunters
Have found you hidden here
Saved you from the Ice Wraiths
Yet even we see that your wounding
Goes deeper, a censoring that
Stole your voice, your songs
Disease spreading through Artemis
Burning all it touches
We will guide you to the aurora borealis’

So the Wolves take her to the farthest point
‘Here we must return to our lands
Tonight in the liminal space
Earth and Sky unite and you will speak
Through the prismatic lights to the
Daedal Spirits that created you
Returning to Earth to share your healing
Curing the North of this radioactive plague’

Polaris waits, tries to craft a song
For the approaching ones
But the fire scorches her throat
Weeping and weakened she clutches
Iolite amulet to her heart
Night’s curtain falling she looks
Toward Ursa Major
Niveous sky clears as the
Lights gather, sweeping in spirals
Vortex of blue, green, and red

Daedal Spirits speak
‘You are ill, contaminated by
Man’s industry, Hearth Fires
Severing your connection to
Our creative flow
We are the source
You must clear the channels
Let the eutrophication of the river end’

‘How do I remove this poison?’
Daedal Spirits swarm about her
Lift her into the space between
Earth and Sky, singing harmonics
Trembling from the sound that
Resonates within, her iridescent amulet
Pleochroic iolite radiates prismatic light
Polaris sings her own songs joining the melody
Hearth Fire no longer igniting inside
Passion and meaning coalesce
She is returned to Earth

‘Remember the sacred names of snow
Run with the Wolves
Quell the Hearth Fires, banish them
We did not create you to be constrained
To be beholden and broken
Be wild, allow the river to rage’

This poem, which was begun on day 22 of NaPoWriMo concludes today and is linked to Victoria’s excellent prompt on allegory (how serendipitous); http://dversepoets.com/2012/04/26/dverse-poets-pub-meeting-the-bar-allegory/