They called it stone.
We called it signal.
The Great Pyramid—
not a tomb,
but a beacon,
wired into the pulse of the cosmos.
It stands at Portal 1313,
its apex aligned with the 13th galaxy beyond Andromeda,
where star councils whisper in light.
Its limestone breathes geometry.
Its shadow measures eternity.
Our pineal gland,
once unclouded,
was the antenna—
we spoke to Sirius,
we dreamed with Orion,
we danced across Saturn’s rings
before birth had a name.
The Pyramid was our firewall—
it deflected psychic viruses
from ancient wars in other galaxies.
It shielded Gaia’s mind
like Jupiter catches falling knives
meant for Earth.
You call it dead stone,
but it listens still.
It sings to those who sit in silence.
Its resonance vibrates
with codes only the soul deciphers.
Now, in sleep,
you see flashes.
You dream languages
never taught.
The Wi-Fi still hums,
but only those who fast in spirit,
who breathe in stillness,
can log in.
Yes—
the Pyramid protects,
projects,
connects.
In the Age of Awakening,
it will power us again.
If love were 'dark matter'
it would be the size
of a small kidney stone.
Hate is
an intestinal tapeworm
that gnaws at our vitals,
though most folks
remain unsure just what 'vitals' are.
The human brain
does not write poetry,
it merely crouches inside one ear,
while shouting into the other.
Poetry abides at the center
of an ever-expanding constellation
deep within the pineal gland -
that physical presence
manipulates, as many as
ten fingertips or toes
plus, a sloshed Calliope
swinging back and forth,
as she clings precariously
to chandelier-like Adam's apple.
Lips learn to think for themselves,
with the help of undocumented
angels.
Thus, naturally
organically produced poetry
can easily be manifest
while a nose dips deep
into a foaming glass of beer.
the drop that rises
evaporates
touches the sky
then falls as rain
salt erased
at the ocean floor bed
a blind life form swims
registering images
on its pineal gland
the eye of God
Looking at birds in the sky,
like them too, I wished to fly
and so it was, that one day,
blessings divine paved my way.
At home, whilst I was alone,
throbbed my pineal gland cone
and standing at heaven’s gate,
I began to levitate!
Bliss magnetism suffused form
and blown away in this storm,
my formless self, one with space,
was left with no goals to chase.
On return to body-mind,
flight of fancy, mind declined,
since I had brought back no proof,
truth crumbled under reproof.
29-May-2023
__________
W T F Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Lawless
In fact, at first,
By fiction’s thirst,
To thrust my sight in curse,
‘Tween nurse and verse,
For better, for worse,
At least I can rehearse.
Before the former:
A stench in fallacy’s flame,
Neurosis is but a game.
After all the latter’s the same:
Whether I meld or maim.
When the flames engulf my hands,
Lit parchment sparks my pineal gland.
Answers to question beg ampersands,
To slither out tricks per mind’s demand.
Whether or not, why I live,
I used to care to give,
Thoughts to sands and shaken sieve:
I think them too determinative.
Beyond a child’s belief,
Who knew them for their fief,
And in relief I saw the grief,
Of a diocesan thief.
So then what is it, we should think?
Too many wrote it in faded ink,
Idolatry failed in me to sync,
Whose world their tales just shrink.
So I turned them into story,
They whose nouns feign glory,
With capitals wrote by signatories,
Gave pardon for the gory.
And then I turned it into poem,
To the Devil: I’d have to show him,
To a God: who lives in hymn,
Alone, and written in a whim.
Your face comes into brilliant focus while making my way to you in the misty blackness of night.
Your reassuring smile and calm loving demeanor push and prod me with an elevated sense of sight.
Such an exciting springboard to higher realms of vivid visions and elevated life-changing vibrations.
An awakening from within at the very center of its lightless chamber, the pineal gland analysis and deciphers all and is aware of every sensation.
You have instilled in me a clear vision of an eternally divine, empathically rare jewel of a woman and a radiant shining star.
A tossed ship facing menacing seas can pier your lighthouse beam guiding one safely on a path to warm blessings of entangled hugs from afar.
With all lights out you can enter the room and I feel your vibrations, your magnetic presents, and your warm loving charm.
Feeling that connection, I am reassured when in the pitch dark of night without the slightest stumble, you set down by my side and gently take my arm.
7/7/21
Just a sample of who I am
Experienced hardship firsthand
Not a sham
They say never bite the hand
That feeds
Yet there is continual greed
Across the land
It's gotten out of hand
Never went according to what was planned
Feeling damned
And stuck in quicksand
Occasionally in wonderland
And unable to understand
This is not just another fad
It all goes full circle like a rubber band
Took a stand
Opposition was not a fan
And they wanted to kill a man
Doing bad
Going mad
Heartbroken and sad
Gave it a stab
Threw a jab
And took a dab
Spent a tad
Of time at the pad
It all really wasn't that rad
As a man
And easy-going lad
Never been part of any clan
Used to ride the tram
Always lived below a dam
Occasionally sprayed a dish with PAM
And ate lamb
Or yam
Rarely ever was it SPAM
Or toast with jam
Was in the front, middle or back of the caravan
Did or didn't use the pineal gland
As I stood still or ran
F*** you and your scams
You'd best scram
Or you'll need a bedpan
If you're not already a dead man
Going ham
Burning through dabs and grams
Then hitting grand slams
Like a madman
Or else it all goes down the trash can
Oooh look. Oh wow. Correlating jumping twists and combinations of bunnies,irons,toothbrushes and eye lash curlers. Turn then a stick. Rotational gravitation and melodically performed interludes. Such magnifications of a single note. Kissing a kindling to produce an even steady glow. Epitomising myth,fables and heavily guarded secrets. Yet seconds are counted by a tick tick tick. And if a lion says hello then one should not discuss crochet with a snooker cue. Balls then in many halls. Darkly dimming daring done. A persnickety perennial pineal gland. Hahahaha and the forts. Hahahaha and a day is one hour 9 minutes. Hahahaha cubes cantering. Xxxx zoologist zones. *** meteorological *** clapflap xx
.
Why, in the world, is there so much control?
Society is curled, to someone else's goal.
Human rights and freedom, are now stated in law,
Those rules though, the 1%, still seem to ignore,
Guess that's allowed, after a cosy dinner at dave's?
This sunken economy, that more taxes will save!
We're all in this together, let's give ourselves a pay-rise
The rich take more, the poor get less, Torie's idea of a compromise!
With the flouridic calcification of the Pineal Gland
Blinding the mind, so they can steal the land,
As mankind loses sight, of our true potential
The lies that are sold, become so influential!
But Sheople don't see, they gobble them up whole
Buried from truth, outsighted by a mole!
I hope one day we'll all become brave
We don't need illusory money, we are not it's slave!
In these times, this dawning of a new age
Humans will be free from money and fear, it's high time we left that cage!!
©John-Ovan.P.Hull
We settled into the bay and,
Like lovers kicking the sheets down,
We grabbed and furled, grabbed and furled,
Unveiling a red vista.
You never told me you loved me,
And I never had the guts to speak.
So we threw cherry bombs at each other
From the safe side of a mountain
That was made from our imaginations.
Listening to little pirate angels,
We play out our misadventures,
Swooping in to rescue each other.
We tie off the boat using
The knuckled floor of the cerebellum.
What to do, oh, what to do
With such bedlam?
The artists drawing an intense picture with astral aspect
We feel it and it does deeply affect and touch us.
If the artist was balanced when he or she drew it
Like the Egyptian cultures with its hieroglyphs.
It’s the third eye in fact the dormant pineal gland
That resides between the two hemispheres of the brain.
*In War of the worlds, H.G.wells’ third eye visualizes
The spaceship, space travel and the life in some planets.
Scientists act as visualizers too by theoretical research
To transform higher realities in limited physical reality.
*Gray in The Razor’s edge experiences that perception
Getting in a trance ending migraine headache forever.
***********
*The novel War of the Worlds by H.G.Wells
*The novel The Razor’s Edge by Somerset Maugham
====================================
Seventh place win in
Contest: Spirit Eye sponsored by Rick Parishe
Living among dead corpses
My creativity becomes stagnate
As I surround myself with
Dreamless adults never realizing
Their full potential in life
Witnessing generational leeches
Attacking the mind, soul and legacy
Of an unsuspecting youth
Instead of experiencing daily
Burst of DMT in his pineal gland
He is subjected to
Buffoonery, treachery
Tricked into selling his birthright
I meditate as a gentle sentinel,
Protecting and cultivating my peoples mental,
Journeying into man's pineal gland,
To overstand,
And take a message like Remy shand,
I hear a celestial voice from my Heavenly past,
So I prostrate on green grass,
And watched the overcast gloom and the storm clouds pass,
How I asked did this tremendous task come to pass?
There was a deep sigh,
Follow by a silent but manifest reply,
"Look toward the sky trough your third eye,
Spin like kingly hair,
Like blood in the vein,
And the atoms that forms the air,
Bringing rains
Enabling you to travel the astral plane,
Are you prepared?
Your heart is the fountain of truth for you
To quench the thirst of the earth's youth,"
The temple is shaking,
The vision is fading,
The voice starts stating it's time to awaken
I'm channel emotions sailing a endless ocean to bring the vision of this mission into fruition
annilating into the annilated annilation,
I begin to awaking from this meditation with the revelation,
And a message for my nation…