Six enlightened tunes
Eight melodies of virtues
To become acclaimed
In the ten skies of the Church
This is the eternal bell
This poem is about a 1,200 year old Manichaean bell (and its inscription) found in Ordu-Baliq (Capital of the Uyghur Khaganate).
I wish to possess an artifact,
or possibly an object.
There are spaces
in this poem,
gaps in this thing, these lines.
So do we not need an item,
or some kind of body?
How about an article?
If there are spaces, gaps, holes,
we do require something to fill
those spaces, those
gaps, those
holes.
So why do we remember
all those things, stuff from our past
and wish to possess?
It will happen to me;
hasn't hit me yet,
but, oh dear, it will, it will.
(Jul 2022)
light apparition -
is it angel that's captured
or human desire?
Brian Johnston
Date Unknown
Poet's Notes:
Response to a Facebook Woodland Photograph that could be real or could be doctored. Like a stain on a wall that someone claims is an image of Christ, the truth of such claims has no relevance to living humanity in my opinion.
Numb your cortex and let her siblings speak,
Dumb her with a dactylic drumbeat
And let the fronted sound put her to sleep.
Turn off your domineering manager,
So others may awake at waking hour
To pour their paroled thoughts into your art.
Let the furnace of creativity
Create new combinations and concepts
For that is the art, not the detritus.
Artifact Not Intact
Trump is another American artifact,
Not having brains remaining intact;
Small tiny speck,
On top of neck;
Any intelligence at all always lacked.
Jim Horn
Egyptian artifacts intrigue,
Museum quality so fine
Imagination they besiege,
Sagely seasoned like the best wine,
They fill my heart with love and awe,
Egyptian artifacts so fine,
Love soul stories of ba and ka,
Often inspires me and mine,
Soul-deep into a tomb or mine,
Wishing I could go on a dig,
Egyptian artifacts so fine,
Terrific stories truly big,
Finding a tomb King Tut mighty,
Is the best kind of dream of mine,
Discovering tight and righty,
Egyptian artifacts so fine.
an artifact of a time gone by was found
it represents a time when all seemed well within the land
till one day a giant orger came and stomped
the villagers to death underneath his feet
leaving devastation in it's wake
GOD’S THUMB IS ALSO HIS MIDDLE FINGER
I SUFFER THE DAYS DILEMMA
And vie with midnight’s madness
I suffer daylight’s RETRIBUTION
And at dawn, dusk or in the dark I suffer insufferable sadness
This right here I my entire world
A ROOM OR A SELF-STYLED CELL
While waving a white flag of surrender that been too long unfurled
A banner to signify that I’m ready to be CONSIGNED unto hell
I am alone and aligned with the loneliness I feel
Ain’t no salvation nor soul could save me
Wherein I now exist
I have no pending business appointments to complete nor for to end
While I live under your god’s thumb and my father Satan’s feisty fist
This right here is my entire universe
A PLANET OF IMPATIENCE AND PERTINENT PAIN
I live under duress and a demon’s curse
While daylight giggles at THE Lord’s disdain
© 2011.…Phreepoetree ~freecee!~
A pristine, hidden stone
Lying in a crevice all it's own
No coroding wind, human hand to bemoan
Virgin beauty to a pilfering world unshown
Steely mason's hand o'er rocky divide did skim
Extracting rocks at a sculptor's whim
Purloined quarry removed with shearing shade, shoring shim
Forthwith, bartered nature; bridled pilgrim
In artisan's shop fodder to shape to trim
It's ruddy face chiseled, cut around each rim
Rough surface sanded yielding a polished diadem
Once jaded stone translated into comely artifact so prim
A cunning ape
upon a diamond throne
tastes his apple.
Our Saturn lets loose
arrows of piercing spiritual venom.
Dominion and power
in the blood of a human head.
A complete circle
unmanifest enclosing
the devil.
Crushing all passion and pride;
A white cone
gently rolling
toward the Centre.
The disk manifests
as the One.
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