Hermitic wisdom ~ as above, so below
as in heaven, so on earth
each node thus represents the whole
if we but choose to be still
we will discover the light of our soul
Written: November 07, 2023
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Am I condoning a state of affluence?
In recent desultory decadence
Have I drawn a swan dive of choice?
Don't you hear your mom clamoring?
Don't you grasp her voice?
Backward between and beyond riverstone?
Holler—herald hidden phylum, hunt voice
of failed fulfillments
The hind hock hoof is hermitic.
With any accismus to anthropomorphize beasts
Winter wolf moon wakes up her litter
for sustenance, the man in me would slaughter
the wolf.
Tracks—that permeate darkness
their compulsory murder. Everyone needs
a meal
drifted and whistled from hair to heel,
things outside seem odd, ghostly, surreal.
Amid snow—hooves slowed to soak in
across the waves—why my soul seeped
a sailor has been seen dozing off
whilst the riverside weeps
trust—my footprints feature
fear—cynicism.
Existence is the cauldron where elements brew
Earth, water, fire and air, are in space entwined
Each has unique attributes, maintaining life
Cognised by presence when they are aligned
Holy Spirit grazes form, beginning at root of spine
Earth comes alive, as blood begins to flow
Two thirds of the planet is water; we are likewise
We feel in stillness, our sacral water centre glow
Energy ascent continues, igniting fire in the navel
So enlivening and comforting is magnetic heat
But what avail the spark, if there be no movement
Breeze of air obliges, making our heart upbeat
Thus from root to sacral, navel and then our heart
Grace activates all elements and body glands
Passing through throat corresponding to aether
Into the head ovoid to cognise God’s heavenly lands
Ancient Hermitic wisdom affirms: as above, so below
Made in God’s image, we represent the whole
Five senses, elements and electricities as yet unknown
Oh hermit, we ourselves are the light, scriptures extol
Being alone is not been left alone
It's doesn't mean solus
One is not being companionless
Left over the feel that unaccompained.
Alone which not only means lonesome
There is something beyond the lonely state
It should be searched by one's own self
There is lot beyond the hermitic.
You are your own companion
You are at the line of extrovernt
Not introvernt
Time to understand one's own self.
Not deserted, detached, sequestered..
But can be socialized itself
So "Feel Alone" but projected to be unique like a crown.
In searching of peace
soul of writings sought hermitic milieu
O loneliness of mind shrine
know that you’re curse!
O loveless love of wedding heart
know that you’re curse!
On the nib of starry pen
all words of loneliness and cruel love were dancing
the pen grinned by the feathers of outcast love!
Oh! the silent head tomb devours the writers penning insight
at the end no peace was there
from strolling vacationer to whole unknown
the writer was dispatching in absconding .....!
by this way alone bard is decaying!
21.06.2020 Chattogram
I quest my love from the depths of silenced shadows,
amongst the reclusive dimness…
Where I compose my Soliloquy of Solitude
as I gravitate to a ghostly grimness…
Fortitude I have none, for my hermitic heart
pulsates within its penumbra prison…
I walk these calamitous corridors with the stench
of sulfates that have ruinously risen…
All I seek is you, my love, for you have gone,
and thus I’m trapped in tangled thoughts…
Where rivers of tears sing a sad song,
my lachrymal love tied by katabolic knots…
My hidden heart lays to rest, confined and consumptive,
for many other hearts here weep…
My eyes of devotion become blind,
and Symphony of Sorrows rampageously reap.
April.28.2020
Shadows Poetry
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Placed 5'th...Thank You
Isomorphic ideas verses a hermetic mind
Plaintive howl of a writer.
Ideas in isomorphic forms
Are liqudified then with a tragic
Irony crystalised in an amorphic haze.
When will she achieve her finesse?
Her story is a mess,
Tragic demise of the hermitic mind
The fosil of dried ink.
Time for a cup of tea me thinks.
And the phone rings.
Isometric ideas merge with the hermitic mind.
Therefore her writing will resemble a paper mache elephant
in perfect symmetry. When cut in the middle perfectly isomorphic.
The end.
As the wind howls the parasitic perpetrator prowls
And children’s dreams are left blowing in the wind
As the wind storms the barbarous battle swarms
And the countless screams are blowing in the wind
As the wind scatters many a humble heart shatters
And the vaporous voices are left blowing in the wind
As the wind calamity chills the harmful hatred spills
And the evil rejoices while left blowing in the wind
As the wind torments a silent sinner or two repents
For remorse and holiness are left blowing in the wind
As the wind approaches a slaving solitude encroaches
And the leering loneliness is left blowing in the wind
As the wind cries through lamenting darkened skies
The anguish accumulates and left blowing in the wind
As the wind wanders a man on the hermitic hill ponders
He patiently waits for love to blow in the winding wind.
Aug.20.2017
Blowing in the Wind
Sponsored by: Nicola Byrne
'Theatre Of The Absurd'
Catoptric Corridors of Time
Oh how the wounded waverly wander away from their hermitic heart
Only to meticulously maunder thru cumulous clouds that diffuse apart
The deflections of deceptions that build worshipful walls
Seen in Mirrors of errors displaying fathomable fetal falls
The soliciting silences succumbing to their cognitive cocoon
Inducing illusions forthcoming mirage’s of the monolithic moon
Dimensional decoding within the resurgent rhythmical rhyme
Catalectic exploding compositions in the Catoptric Corridors of Time.
02.03.2017
Theatre Of The Absurd ...Contest
Sponsored by...Kai Michael Neumann
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