How near doth Time now stand upon the verge!
Upon our days is fallen Judgment's shade.
One woe grows still, then doth another surge,
And close behind, a third comes undelayed.
Then bitter cold shall strike, and famine loom,
Our hopes shall pass beyond the shrouded bier;
The city that we cherished, once so dear,
By Heaven's will, and war, shall meet its doom.
Believe not, people, that peace shall ever reign,
For Time already gazes into naught;
No end at all thereto shall e'er be brought—
The war returned, forever to remain.
Abrupt often comes the end
Freedom awaiting with open arms
Time we know waits for no one
Earthly comforts we'll leave behind ~
Recalled to our celestial home
Lessons learned along the way
Infinite wisdom within our reach
Faith in what's behind that dark curtain
Entangled thoughts barrage of hope and fear
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
The salt we weep does not just disappear,
It slips from sight into the quiet night,
A falling star from valleys of a fear,
Or heavy rain that blinds the fading light.
Perhaps they join the rivers of the earth,
To feed the roots of some forgotten rose,
Giving a lonely seed a sudden birth,
Where secret grief in silent beauty grows.
Or do they rise as vapor to the sky,
To drift as clouds above the busy crowd,
And fall again when stormy winds are high,
To weep for oceans singing deep and loud.
They leave the cheek but never truly fade;
Of vanished tears, the softer worlds are made.
Whose eye is on whose bless'ed
Hope, this sunset beyond
Viewed as inconsequential
With a dismissive look
All that lit, too smoky dull
With a too brief wick
His world, his journey's purpose.
"Time to close the book!"
A jinx I bore halts now,
Rays peep through black clouds.
Trees blossom after a decade barren,
Smell of Gardenia accompanies the breeze.
To bid a final goodbye,
I turned back, the castle now,
A mile away, almost a speck of dust,
In a vast green painting.
To wander in a world as such,
Upheld virtues once and twice.
Though they blow trumpets proud,
Of vices I'm unaware.
The Black Dust of Hell: Choking on the Grave
The poisonous venom that spills from your tongue,
The venomous anthems your malice has sung,
Descends to the abyss as a billowing cloud
A black dust of hell that will fashion your shroud.
You spoke without mercy, you bled without care,
But silence awaits in the tomb of despair.
For once you are broken and dropped in the clay,
The shadows you summoned are coming to play.
The ash of your cruelties will gather and rise,
To choke out the light from your dead, hollow eyes.
That mountain of malice will turn to a bill,
An absolute ledger you cannot fulfill.
For every vile whisper and treacherous spark,
You will swallow the soot as you rot in the dark.
Not a breath goes unchecked, not a malice is spared
You will choke on the horrors your big mouth prepared.
Henrietta was precocious and a little naughty.
She loved adventure and sadly died too soon.
Why did the chicken cross the road?
Henrietta was way too curious about the afterlife.
Shepherd and Bishop of the Church of Gnosis
Teacher of the tradition of inner knowing
Entered this world through the Kingdom of the Magyars
Passerby bishop in Yaldabaoth’s world of night
Holding his staff to the twinkling eons above
Awakening us to the blazing mind of Jung
Nourishing the eon of gnosis arisen
Anointed in heavenly baths of Christ Jesus
Hoeller died, yet he now lives in unfading light
Our Lady Sophia shed tears this month and night
Enter the Fullness of love and divinity
Lily of the valley, who escaped death’s valley
Look and behold the divine aeons’ faces
Enter the Fullness of the Mother and Father
Rest in the Bridal Chamber of Christ our saviour
(Acrostic poem in honour of Bishop Stephan A. Hoeller, who died on May 3 2026).
I get three shots
on an afterlife
when I come back
as a living thing,
I've decided,
but only if this world
gets better
and not worse.
I choose an assortment.
I choose mythical
and nonmythical.
First, I'll be a Marahute
and save those who save me,
or an albatross who sails
the sky with unfathomable care.
Second time around,
I will be a Secretary Bird.
She stomps around
like it's no one's business,
and she tramples over dinner
al dente.
Third time and last chance,
I will obviously be a mermaid
with everything perfectly proportioned
and enhanced, just for me.
I will choose to be
the most beautiful mythical creature
of my imagination.
I will see
everything
under the sea.
That is where
everything
shuts up.
I will only have my eyes
and an appreciative heart,
and amazingly long
rainbow hair.
The fish will
appreciate me.
Otherwise,
they will just keep swimming.
Either way,
I will have the sky, the land,
and the sea.
all
life
changes
eternal forms
human life included
atomic matter swirls in consciousness to create
choosing guides, soul mates, curriculums, paths based upon lessons learnt, to be learnt :
wisdom grows
death !
time
arrives
spirit leaves
guides draw near, cortège
aiding transition process
Source gifted glow life which cannot end
before one’s time
exit vessel, welcomed by loved ones and ancestors into Spirit : wisdom grew
~~~~~~|||~~
In her cold, snowy breasts
They lay me down to rest
The pattering of earth
The gravel and the dirt
It doesn't hurt
I don't even feel it;
I hear it as it hits
The top of the casket
I hear my darlings crying
And throwing tearful fits
By far, the worst part of dying:
The grieving I feel
From family and friends
If only they knew,
Though death is real,
Life never ends
And we’re always with you
Even if you’re too sad to see
The wilted rose beside you
Is me
The clouds and falling snow
Is a me, you’ll come to know
When you look out the window
And trace the blowing leaves
And imagine their dry crinkling
And somber familiarity we’d share
Both loving the crisp winter air
How everything seems golden
Yet bare
Your heart sees me
Sees me standing there
Next to the old tree
As a cat’s glare gathers in the gloom
Recollecting me
It’s funny, I don’t believe in heaven, but every time I pay homage to the dead I look towards the sky.
I hope I don’t end up there when I go,
I’d much rather be the dirt travelers tread on.
THERE WAS A DOOR TO WHICH I FOUND NO KEY;
THERE WAS A VEIL THROUGH WHICH I MIGHT NOT SEE;
THERE WAS SOME TALK AWHILE OF ME AND THEE
THERE WAS - AND THEN NO MORE OF THEE AND ME.
I SENT MY SOUL THROUGH THE INTANGIBLE,
SOME FABLE OF THAT AFTER-LIFE TO TELL;
AND BY AND BY MY SOUL RETURNED TO ME
AND ANSWERED "I MYSELF AM HEAVEN AND HELL";
STRANGE IS IT NOT ? THAT OF THE MYRIADS WHO
BEFORE US PASS'D THE DOOR OF DARKNESS THROUGH,
NOT ONE RETURNS TO TELL US OF THE ROAD
WHICH TO DISCOVER WE MUST TRAVEL TOO.
THE REVELATIONS OF DEVOUT AND LEARN'D
WHO ROSE BEFORE US, AND AS PROPHETS BURN'D
ARE ALL BUT STORIES, WHICH AWOKE FROM SLEEP,
THEY TOLD THEIR COMRADES, AND TO SLEEP RETURN'D
Where am I?
Am I in the sky
Or in the ground
Certainly not, this, walking ‘round
Only dust left when gone
No such circuitry can perceive
The beauty of dawn
Or the glooming of eve
When the dust settles
Where have I gone
The dew upon the petals
Faerie Circles on the lawn
Something stirs in between
And remains for us, unseen
Not, will ever be found here
All here is dust, that much is clear
This place seems a shadow from high above
And no, I’m not going to say a place of love
Love keeps us happy to continue the charade
While somewhere something-
Plays with what it’s made
Did it count on us making the best of it
Enjoying each sunrise and its benefit
Discovering art, taking the world apart
Uncovering science
While it marveled our defiance
To not just be rats in its cage
But to evolve into cultures
That foresaw their futures
Still using wisdom as a workaround
And ingenuity to make life here more sound
Though I sometimes still wonder where I really am
Sometimes I don’t really think I give a damn
As long as I’m happy in this short dream
I’ll rave and I’ll laugh till I run out of steam
This life is full of challenges and tests ~
It's mere preparation for what's to follow
when our souls transcend into the butterflies
that they are meant to become in afterlife.
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
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