Best Blavatsky Poems
When I pierced your eyes,
I knew you were not of this world.
Memory stirred—
I had met you before,
in Egypt,
among forgotten corridors of time.
You smiled,
and I whispered your name:
Helena Petrovna Blavatsky…
Your aura healed
before it touched my skin.
You kissed my right dimple
as we gazed upon the Sun.
“Focus,” you said,
“Ray Seven shall birth The Secret Doctrine,
a key to the seventh dimension.
Fragments only they will grasp—
but a golden age will come.”
Then softly you added:
“When you meet my soul sister Annie Besant
in England,
pass her this kiss I have given you.”
In the winter of 1916,
I met that Diamond Soul.
She kissed me gently,
then whispered no more:
“I have launched the All India Home Rule League—
and I am exhorted.”
That night, beneath the oil lamp’s glow,
they circled me in silence.
Blavatsky, Besant, and Olcott—
their hands upon my shoulders,
their eyes burning with forgotten fire.
No words, only a current
rushed through my blood,
a vow sealed in invisible flame.
I was initiated—
not as a man,
but as a keeper of the hidden path.
As I turned to leave,
Colonel Henry Steel Olcott
called me from the USA:
“We are forming a school
to study the knowledge of God.”
I stepped out of the room,
lost in that knowledge.
Now I stand in the Now—
wondering still
Am I human…
or God?
How can one man find
More faith in a crevasse of Siula Grande,
Than most will ever know,
Sitting beneath a pulpit on Sunday?
Dulling the truth to grow the census,
Merchants and cowards comfort the carnal ear.
Marketing Christ’s love without his conviction,
Left willful in sin with nothing to fear.
In half doctrines and custom alter calls,
Prostituting the truth with all forms of prosperity.
Akin to seeding hookers in the chambers of Heaven.
Deceived to death twice by hand and blasphemy.
Feeding wolves from among your own flocks.
In the banquets of ancient mystics and bride Blavatsky,
Word of Faith gorging on their mammon,
Left choking in an insatiable eternity.
A culture’s blue concessions are gone,
Giving more choices leaving Paul’s letters unread.
No church discipline or discernment left,
Testaments of burning flesh that once bled.
Refusing to submit to be broken.
Fading old blessings from past obedience.
Confusing favor with common grace,
Hypocrisy’s retribution birthed decadence.
Millions claiming the found life of the few,
In every eulogy and requiem,
Lukewarm afterthoughts of the Son,
Losing everything by never knowing him.
Despising the light of the living truth,
Lobotomizing guilt with the scalpel of ignorance.
Finding solace in the darkness of mystery.
Death marches infectious rainbows of tolerance.
Redefining roles and covenants in hemorrhaging lies
Under the pretense of the modern states,
Illusions of enlightenment killing somatic slaves.
Relativism’s heart courting the things he hates.
Enticed by the delusions of utopias,
Bound in the fables of autonomy.
Throats upon The two-edged sword,
In this American tragedy
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12.04.14
This poem attempts to capture the Fundamentalist view on certain issues with other movements within Christianity. Also, the man in the crevasse, chose a different kind of faith than you may have assumed.
Hashish smoke trails her
along a dusky corridor
Aka the hall of fires
where mirage chimeras unleash
Encumbered with hands splayed
her crystal ball lumens
wires ghostly apparitions
mnemonic attachments
What mystery ensues
a phantasmagoria
of horror nudging
the demonic
Sitters drenched
in profuse sweat
fainting one by one
Alas unconscious
their fate met?
Coroners couldn’t ‘ve clarified
Described as an arctic chill
bolting across the sector
through each limp body
claiming mortality
As icy temps rise
Hypothermia responsible!
for the fatality, for their demise
Latter days professing onto
recordings of a gathering that took place
confessing that a séance
performed by a mysterious woman
in a trance—was the case.
The
Moon is waxing
First quarter crescent
The beckoning begins
Nodding, gurgling
Opening realms unseen
to the naked eye
Madame
Mystic, psychic,
a beguiling storyteller
and Medium
Down in a cellar, along with a Ouija
volumes of her writings discovered
delving into société espirita
The Goldilocks of the occults
Esoteric subjects,
a burgeoning interest
Astral travels,
unexplained laws of nature,
powers latent in man
Madame channeled
ascended masters
The Voice of the Silence
The Two Paths
The Seven Portals
"gifts" from the specters
This time Madame stands
to receive between intervals
and only he is seated
Warning him of dark spirits
a dimension outside
of our physical time-space reality
shadowing, making absence
of light a necessity
To invoke them
another nod
Continues unabated
Reveal the truth!
By sacred decree, by order
Behind the phenomenon
details of schemes came to light
Denounced as Black Magic
she was no longer to fright
Marked as a fraud
it all a façade
The moon is waning
Third quarter
The truth of their own beholder. There is none in him in their golden deceit Retreating into their cycloptic gland the apple of their eye Discordia. the age of the bewildered beliefs off their rails of the reality tunnels Truly a crazy train to avoid the truth by division creating endless tunnels of dystopia The unapologetic of their own heresies Blacks smiths of the ancient psyops Bring back the out cast of their own makings whether swinging in Jung's jungle tuning into Leary's leery lyre Blavatsky blatant blasts Freud's fairest fraud wanton Anton's or Crowley's unreality. All are like Dionysus genetic cupboards perception pills. The altered states of discontentment crossing wires in their twisted hannibal codex.Cybernetics new captain of trans humanism still shrugging the world off their shoulders for the evil that they perceive into an atlas of chaos with quasi- motto ringing bells for their Franken-design. Their upside down stairways leading to the stagnant light of a cracked door a vultured eye absinthe. To get over their guilt of their own law do what thou wilt assuming that their conscience are not defiled and all the while they are searingly beguiled The truth is is is the Truth the absolute. Lies lies lies prowl around in hooded greys propagandist of the endless mazes. Lighting false fires of the Prometheus blaze hissing asps of the doubled tongue setting their own world on fire. Like the orange clock work of the Georgia guide stones. The meth wine of the undivine with nobody to come only a desire to go. But....
Who are the masters of illusion?
Deep Staters, lobbyists, think tanks
In collusion.
Brought to you by big business ads
and the news, and the Father of lies.
The ones really making popular culture decisions, trend bending, puppeteering, racketeering, engineering our demise.
Provided, cover, like chemtrails in the skies.
What demons are behind the madmen, on the "scene", and on the rise.
That will do anything,
that they know.
To muddy up all the deeds,
that they've sown.
Through confusion and lies!
Are they behind the scenes, out of reach?
Untouchable, apparently.
But really, we share in the blame.
Living in shame in the same old Apathy.
Of violence and sex of immoral folly.
Of untruths and halftruths, damnation alleys.
Get mad for 5 minutes, then forget all about crimes against humanity.
Do we all have ADD or just plain lazy, or helpless when not United.
Is that we have civil strife? To keep us off balance and off of them?
Are thinktanks sought in kahutz, in dissolution?
Like minds that fight in the ranks of evil revolutions?
The crowning of man, a worldwide tarot reading,
a rave on the mobile church transmission.
Do your own thing,
what thou wilt,
New Age. (Crowley/ Blavatsky/(black) hearts with a mission.
Trending....ticker tape sutured on the screen (Psalms of a sermon)
Piping you like concessioned Vermin.
Countless new horrors,
never spoke of before.
Endless corridors,
yet new ground,
unexplored.
If you've got the time,
and you do,
just wait.
Spend your time, waiting for changes.
Till change, (not the kind you want)
comes looking ( with a clipboard )for you.
May day...I'm at the back
Listening to Chinese traditional music:
That bamboo flute in tuning,
Synchronizing with my thoughts
Amazed at our species capabilities,
All hail earthlings, keep the rain for me!
Serving services and handling handles,
Clumsy hands, O pardon me
Life so so slippery but my madam-
Helps me, O Blavatsky...
Stretching your will from the H and P
We all know life's a pain
but you taught me how to gain,
From questioning my existence to existing,
I know now that "I am" the gift,
So I'm giving presents,
Its not Chris-mas, but me...
Have you missed me?
Been present since the first day
May day....
Blavatsky said space is God
but pause we her give a nod,
consider: where is God not?
Contemplate thus, be self-taught.
Wisdom Leadbeater affirmed
and Annie Besant confirmed;
koilon: a term coined for space,
they both recognised by grace.
A quick google search will show,
there’s more to space than we know
oft whispered of in folklore,
this vastness is heaven’s door.
Straightforward are words we state,
known to those who meditate,
likening space to a womb,
that doth existence entomb.
We may claim soul’s ascended,
when space-time is transcended,
which we can if we be still,
to God surrendering will.
Lemuria
the lost continent
sunk beneath the Indian Ocean
like Atlantis
or was she Atlantis?
Helen Blavatsky used pseudoarcheology to incorporate her
into her mystical-religious doctrines
she claimed Lemurians were mystical
possessing powers of esp
able to communicate with extraterrestrials
her writings elevated the myth of Lemuria
an exaggeration of evidence
but proof of a brilliant imagination
a cornerstone of her philosophy of theosophy