I have never been schooled, in
Archetype and tarot,
So please do correct me,
If I am wrong?
The Magus corresponds, to the privileged child,
As the Goat, corresponds to the Fool.
And I know you Magus's
For what you are:
Spoilt and fallen,
And far to far
From self aware
To be viewed as free
From the bias, and the burden,
That the donkeys made to bear.
And you who ride the donkeys
Have always been an ass
Merely grasping at the reigns
And doing as the donkeys want you to;
Which has truly only ever been
Running down those fools,
Gotten in the way;
And this has never ever
Saved, a single one of you,
From those selves
You have confused.
When you see a performance
That’s live, on a stage,
If you’re lucky, the show
With your mind will engage.
When the dialogue’s snappy,
The scenery great,
With costumes and dancing
And music first-rate…
You’ll tell all your friends
To buy tickets real fast,
Before there’s a change
In this prominent cast.
Since when there’s a performer
Who brings down the house,
You feel privileged to see her
(And so does your spouse).
Just witnessing that
Will remain in your mind
Long after you’ve left
Other viewings behind.
So to Audra McDonald,
In “Gypsy” right now,
Your Rose will live on
Well beyond your last bow.
As I walk into the large room
Full of bags and no spare hand
Looking for a place to loom
In a room so grand
Shuffling with my heavy load
Looking for a place to settle
I see a corner of some sort
Next to a hot kettle
A lovely place to warm my toes
And count my penny lasts
As I settled down my clothes
I heard someone ask
Can I help you?"
In her most stern tone
I stood up and took my view
At her overly judging frown
Trying to make me look small
As she was the management
I stood up tall
In her establishment
Taking my time, Hesitating
To collect my belongings
Knowledge that she hated
My existence in her holdings
As I shuffled in her direction
Disappointment she didn't hide
Not a sign of human affection
Waiting impatiently for my reply
Why should I satisfy her needs
So I showed her my back
To the exit I proceed
And loudly sound "no thanks"
Take courage, child, when the storm speaks,
A privileged soak that wakes you up,
For God dispels the mountain peaks.
Take courage, child, when the storm speaks.
Ancient of Days, of whirlwind streaks,
Takes off your blinder shades, shakes up.
Take courage, child, when the storm speaks.
A privileged soak that wakes you up.
What a night!
What a beautiful night !
The changes we make
The priorities we put forward
The daily mess in our home
Reflect like a florescent lamp glowing all over the places
Oh what a priveledge it is...
To be mom and dad to our baby girl ??
We're privileged of being aware of our rights,
we're privileged to sleep well at nights.
It's not so common to raise the voice,
we're privileged to do as we choice.
I know we have lots of hurdle to face,
but the thing is that this isn't a fair race.
There are some people who are socially dumb,
you'll find them just starving for a crumb.
Laying on the streets, waking up with hope;
maybe today they can get succour for cope.
We're privileged to live with lots of beaming smiles,
for them on the streets, your life is their PARADISE.
A PRIVILEGED EDUCATION
Just within reach of a soft whisper,
I swear I can hear the small voice,
Weeping, of an innocent boy,
Held in limbo out of an ice-bound past,
As I stare at black and white photos,
Framed within a dust-covered album.
The dispersing fog from sealed up years
Is swept away, as insidious grief
Rolls out as a vast tsunami of
Memories, all set in stone.
I remember the dull uniform
Of conformity in the fresh-cut faces
Of newly-pressed recruits
To the collective madness
Of benighted generations.
As craven sheep within the exclusive fold,
They never break fraternal chains
Which bind them close to the smothering
Of elongated cradles where a
Parent’s loving care holds no sway.
Emerging as lifelong, hardened victims
To catastrophic nightmares
Where endless is their perfect failure
To be set free from the sharp embrace
Of nanny’s tightened apron strings,
They are driven on to become
The finest crop of future leaders.
It feels fascinating
that horny voracious passions
dissipate in the presence of fear
of pain and suffering
and ego-defeating loss,
disability and performance anxieties,
wounds
short-term through permanent
satiated energy,
absence of active hope
for future holistic integrity.
In this time of climate degeneration
fear and cultural distancing,
frustrated leftbrain dominant
StraightWhiteMale monoculturing rabidity
looks polyculturally threatening like,
sounds prejudicially like,
feels and touches sacred EarthMother like,
smells and decadently tastes like
Manic
predative energy
inflamed by unnatural sleep deprivation
festering fear-and-anger rapaciousness
Rather than restorative green restorative justice
reviving passion
for multicolored
trans-generational
testosterone+estrogen
yang+yin
polyamorous win+win
inclusive sentient integrity
Of cooperative green/blue powers,
EarthPeace compassion
Not so red dominant
states of capitalistic
monotheistic
straight white patriarchal narcissism,
worshipping a punishing God
made in His own frightened anthropocentric image.
All Powerful Provider present in all places
Potentate presiding our prayers and praises
I'm a pilgrim privileged to be in Your presence
Panting like a deer for Your pure precepts
Profiting from Your priceless pearls of prudence
Provisioned by Your proverbial pages of Scripture
Preserved from pagan practices
Predestined to be Your progeny
Placed in Your perfect plan
Partaker of Your precious promises
Purified by Christ's pouring blood of persecution
Preferred above praiseworthy people
Performing priestly purposes
Planted in the perennial picture of paradise
Patiently preparing for Your Parousia
08.27.2020
Written for Beata Agustin's "Alliteration Regarding Relationship With God" contest
A privileged position of power
Should not give the powerful
The right to render others powerless
Propped and upheld
Propelled while pushed…
…Privileged am I to
perform by faith midst Providence power
Prioritizing God and His kingdom-pursuits
Persevering patiently
Preparing, planning with prayer
Presenting myself as a living sacrifice*…
Peace-filled, pardon-assured
Pulled toward His will to be a blessing.
*Romans 12:1 I beseech you therefore, brethren, by the mercies of God, that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service.
July 31, 2019
Against guilt-chained condescension
Inflicted with iniquities’ oppression
My soul, hell-bound, thru sins’ aggression…
Was rescued by the Saviour with His compassion.
Granting me great redemption
Christ paid for my eternal salvation
Setting me free from awful damnation
Toward wondrous heaven’s destination.
Endowed now with life everlasting’s possession
Blessed to be guided by omniscient wisdom persuasion
I thank my God* for this marvelous privileged condition
To enjoy His sovereign, special, and very personal intervention.
*Matthew 25:34 Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.
April 22, 2019
Elitist school hovering;
Hummingbird-like wind laden migrating.
Evening mess hall dining;
Past the locked gate.
Perhaps I am the privileged one
Perhaps the one who disqualified your vice is one like myself
For after all, if equality is truly to be achieved
We are to see the weaknesses and the strengths
In the potential of all in harmony
Am I wrong?
Perhaps you are criminalized for your own sake
For you inhale to stifle; I swallow to expand
But buttresses are buttresses
Am I wrong?
I am the maximized self; you are yourself without reserve
My standing comes from those who chose your vice before me
But who am I to choose?
My vice is not condemning; my humanity no greater than yours
But any time a man is placed above his brother
That man’s flaws are revered
Not by human nature, but by condition
Perhaps that man was me
Guarding over you, my brother
Perhaps we can agree that he is all of us
Am I wrong?
Inhale; I swallow
Release; I regain
For the one who has known despair will choose a path of consciousness
Your awareness is my degradation
Am I wrong?
Should I apologize for my antecedent insult to your reliance?
In all insults are a hope for harmony
Can we live in harmony with our sins?
Guided by the writer's hand
it skates across page after page,
in complete abandon,
relishing the journey.
A short visit now and then
to the cut of the blade,
its red-lacquered coat
shredded to shavings.
Down to the nub, its eraser gone,
a last soft gasp,
a Frisbee fling into the trash.
Its life springs forth
each time a reader
walks through the pages.
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