Basic Burial

The stadium is full, the ball is in the air,

Players, with supporters, in their hordes, from everywhere,

Praying for a portion of the pot, the winners’ cup,

Linesmen, umpire, referee, the stewards, all lined up,

Ready for the toss up, shaking in their boots,

Could get messy, this one, it’s the final, back to roots.

Everybody gathered at the ball game, here we go,

The ref has tossed, the captains called, let’s enjoy the show.

First up Dederiyeh, arranging body parts,

Neo’s here, exposed himself, unusual but a start,

Homo’s on, with figurines, charms and artefacts,

Buried in the back wing, nearly off the charts,

Some are getting organised, let’s all give a cheer,

Salisbury’s started something but wooden seen from here,

Communal is coming, that should save some space,

Quite an international, frenetic at this pace.

Commentating’s difficult, these guys are second rate,

Time for substitutions, we’ll really feel the hate.

Nope, they’re subbing extras, Krishna’s for a kick,

Jain’s appeared, he’s harmless, though, ascetic and cosmic.

There’s struggle now, Kaliyuga’s on, might have sealed his fate,

The ref is writing cuneiform, he needs some record. Wait!

Djoser’s here! He has a plan, a pyramid’s appeared,

It’s quite the play he’s making, but it could end in tears.

There’s texting now, here comes Crete, this is epic, this is deep,

Watch that ball, it’s changing hands, stakes are growing steep.

Abe is on! Now Veda! Wood has turned to stone,

The crowd is growing restless, exodus, some going home,

The whistle’s blown, half-time called, team talk come at last,

They’ll be back, all fired up, coming thick and fast.

Let’s cut to the highlights, this game goes on for years,

Developing complexities, new characters, old fears.

Can’t keep commentating when the kick-off starts once more

Frantic on the football pitch, all wanting bad to score.

Lowlights looming later with the stars now on the ball,

Triumvirate, none triumphant, nil-nil, a no-score draw.

They struggled down the centre, on the sidelines, in the wings,

‘Over here!’ they shouted but the crowd did other things,

Went out for a burger, for a pie, some chicken soup,

Left maniacal to their game, hoping they’d regroup.

Back to basic burials, no winners and no cup,

Just a henge where humans fought. They died. The crowd gave up.

The stadium is empty. The ball has fallen flat.

No one here to commentate. Fanatics saw to that.

Floral Triangulation

star of david lotus

(source)

From base ascend to apex

By root through centre

Crown

Through middle with alignment

Invert one pyramid

Star is found

From basic to the utmost

Via heart

Apologues purloined

Floral triangulation

Symbolic world

Conjoined

One Under The Sun

We might have worshipped at this other temple

invoked fierce majesty and plead for culmination

twice each year

We might have blessed ourselves adorned in naked adulation

stroking burnished bronze in service

of its philanthropic flares

We might have rescued grief in selfless sacrifice

redeemed from darkness every corner shaded, sheltered,

bound to be impenetrable

We might have saviour’d chapters from our books

pardoned tired redeemers, partook of chalice

with neither sip nor greedy guzzle

We might have worshipped differently

with golden orb and gilded chariot

we did not

We might have reverenced all creation

as one under the sun

blinded, we cannot

I need sex

Hold on…that didn’t come out right there.

But it’s more or less true all the same.

Let me explain.

When I was very young, I was haunted

By a spectre of religion. Or its mate.

I wanted to be holy or some such thing

I thought it was my calling. Or my fate.

I know I always wanted to be close to

The almighty. Or equivalent for you.

I thought that being enclosed inside an order

Would make all my wishes, or my holiness, come true.

I went along to nunneries and convents.

I really did! And checked the lot of them all out.

I window-shopped for suitability, you know, flavour

And questioned.  God, I questioned. Have no doubt.

I was listening to a spiritual advisor. A priest, you know,

A guy who wore his collar back to front,

But even with such strange attire, you know, well backwards, I ask you,

He spoke a lot of sense and helped this little runt.

He gave me some advice I still remember.

Advice, though unexpected, held the truth,

‘Go and live and love and seek the place where

God intends to use your life and youth.’

I wandered some and dillied while I dallied,

I even checked alternatives around,

Buddhism appealed and so did Judaism

Then I soon got my feet back on the ground.

I figured that my life held many mansions,

Rooms, you know, of quantity and worth,

I figured that I knew there was a spiritual,

Something more than dying after birth.

I figured then that love was all that mattered

And that touch was all important in that task,

That hugging and, you know, a bit of the other,

Would help me help myself and others. Please don’t ask!

I figured that the course on which I travelled was pretty good,

You know, I knew it inside out.

What was the point in swapping buses on the travel,

A travail I could then, as now, just as well do without.

It never stopped my interest, fascination,

With the myriad of ways we seek our goal,

The seeking, questing ways that many look to,

The wondering how to make our fractured whole.

But, I’m lost right now, I have to just admit this,

I’m crazy with the thought that what’s the point

If all judiciaries of all religions

Want to score and somehow take over this whole joint

This little earth, you know, the place that we all live on,

What if annexing and confusion is their path,

What if Cole is right and all the myriad ministrations

Only blind us all and conquer while some laugh.

I hate the thought that maybe there’s no answer,

That all we have is only THIS, this jumped up mess,

That warfare in its many conflagrations

Is all we get. I’m sorry, I confess,

That hope, right now, this moment, right here sitting,

Is a figment like the godheads in the plays of ancient Greece,

That faith and hope, belief in goodness, people,

Is a nonsense I adhere to just for peace.

I’m sorry, yes, I am, it’s not my custom

To be lost to hope while praying for our race,

But, Jesus, jumped up saviour of my childhood

I’m begging, even now, with palms upon my face,

Let there be a way where touch and loving,

The touch of thought, the touch of minds and hearts,

The touch of souls who even still are questing

Let touch, like sex, instil, let love impart.

Sex, you see, it serves on open market,

Does the job on even blogger’s space,

It’s hidden and it’s cloistered, we all do it,

Without it there would be no human race.

All the feckin’ fighting and the stories

All the angst, for what, I have to ask,

Who hit whom and what do you believe in.

Who gives a shit. Really, this our task?!

Touch someone, hug someone, have sex or chatter 

With a lover, I don’t mind the gender of,

How can any of this really matter,

We’re here and now and living. That’s our cause.

I know I’ve wandered off, I always do that,

It’s a problem, a solution for I’ll find.

Maybe in the haiku or the photo,

I’ll check them out with, always, open mind.

Love someone today,

Touch them, hands and mind and soul

Love. And be the whole.

love pic

quotesjpg.com

 

 

Orpheus And Our Underworld

Now I could just post this poem and say nowt. I could. But I won’t. I’m on the letter ‘O’ in my self-imposed challenge to work through myths and legends by the alphabet. And I thought ‘O’ would be a doddle. Orpheus tries to rescue lover from the underworld. Fails. A breeze.

But I didn’t count on t’internet. And me. And other bloggers. And being on holiday.

Therefore, more time on my hands than usual, time to read blogs, politics raises its demonic head, read, comment, read, let’s write the poem, research, read, link, read, wtf!, read some more, link. You know what I mean. A blogger’s journey. Sort of typical.

So, this is now a mishmash of mythology, politics, spirituality and a bit of quantum theory thrown in for good measure. Oh aye, and music too. Well, he was a terrific musician according to lore. And music’s the bees’ knees when it comes to muse. And lulling us all into a false sense of security. Or possibly an awakening. See what I mean? Very convoluted in connotations. And I’ve only had coffee all day so it is what it is.

 

Blessed and cursed in timely measure,

Divided from the one,

Into Hades, sought his treasure,

Promises undone.

Forsworn to love, deprived of her,

Abandoned at the gate,

Bereft belief, faith destroyed,

New mysteries promulgate.

One who outsung sirens,

Enabled Jason’s might,

In muse and music invoked man

To lesser, greater rites.

Are we still lulled by Orphean lyre

While devils dance our fate?

   Compelled by those whom power sires

While they, ourselves, berate.

 

If you get the chance, you might want to check out some of the reasons behind this version of the poem. As I said, a blogger’s wonderland out there.

http://syndaxvuzz.wordpress.com/2014/04/16/we-are-in-great-danger-ex-banker-details-how-mega-banks-destroyed-america/

http://syndaxvuzz.wordpress.com/about/

http://colemining.wordpress.com/2014/04/15/the-devils-music/

And a comment from Mark, on one of my posts, that was timely.

I’m just…thinking…(now that could be dangerous 🙂 ). There has been a little uproar over the last few weeks with a pile (and I say that with tongue in cheek) of politicians getting roasted by our ICAC (Independant Commision Against Corruption). So far, ICAC 6 (and possibly more) – Politicians 0. And just to show how deep it goes, our very own Barry O’farrell, Premier of NSW resigned this morning because he had his fingers in the till…with more to come.
I’m like a kid at a puppet show, the stupidity’s plus the ego’s are unbelievable. Every second word out of their mouth is ‘I can’t remember’. If it wasn’t so incredible I’d laugh. As it is, I’m so disgusted I can’t even cry.
I think I might go steal something and just tell the police ‘I can’t remember’. And the atrocity of it all. they’ll just walk away with the odd resignation. If it was you or I, we’d be in jail for a very long time.
Sorry, starting to blow my bugle 🙂
Was just thinking of stirring the pot with a website, to get an honest opinion from the public and just see how many people are sick and tired of this deceit, lies and thumbing their noses at us ‘the people’ that are forced to vote for this stupidity every 4 years. It’s like…here, use your Democratic right to be sh*t on or pee’d on from a great height. Oh, I’m so excited, which way should I go!
Right, that’s enough, time to go and sleep on it…maybe something will come up from spirit in my sleep 🙂