Horror immobolizes us because it is made of contradictory feelings: fear and seduction, repulsion and attraction. Horror is a fascination...Horror is immobility, the great yawn of empty space, the womb and the hole in the earth, the universal Mother and the great garbage heap...With horror we cannot have recourse to flight or combat, there remains only Adoration or Exorcism.
NAMING THE EARTH(a poem of light for national poetry day)And the world will be born againin circles of steaming breathand beams of lightas each one of us directsour inner eyeupon its name.Hear the cry of wings,the sigh of leaves and grass,smell the new sweet mist risingas the pathway is cleared at last.Stones stand ready -they have knownsince ages and ages agothat they were not alone.Water carries the planet's energyinto skies and down to earth and bones.The cold parts steadily as we come together,bodies and hearts warm,hands tingling.We are silentbut our eyes are singing.We look, we feel, we know,we trust each other's souls,we have no need to speak.Not now, but later,when the time is right,the name will ringwithin the iron coreof each other's listening -and the very earth's being.Every creature, every plant,will hear it calling,tolling like a bell -a sound we've always feltbut never dared to hopeto hear reverberating -true at last, at every levelof existence.The poets come togetherto open the intimate centre.Believein life and air -breathe the light itself,for these are the energiesand rhythms that we needto see, to touch, to reach,to identify, to say, the NAME.Colours on your skinfuse and dissolve -leave the river cleanfor pure space and timeto enter and flow in.We all become one fluid streamof stillness and motion,of flaring thoughtpulses discoveringweird pools and twists withinwhere darkness hidesfrom the flames in our eyesbut will not snare us.We probe deeper still,journeying towards a unitywhich will be more rawand yet also more formedthan anything writtenor spoken before.Our fragile bodiesfall away -and the trees, and the roots of trees,guide us -lead us awayfrom the faces we rememberseeing each day in the mirror -into an oceanof dreamsseething with warmth,love,where the beginningis real,ripe, evolving.And the world is born againin circles of steaming breathand beams of light.An ache - a signal -a trembling moment -and the time is rightto say the name.We sing as one wholevoice of the universal -all the words, the namesof every tiny thirsting thing,and they ring out togetheras one sound,one energy, one sense,one vibration, one breath.And the world listens,beats, shines, glows -IS -Exists!
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NAMING THE EARTH(a poem of light for national poetry day)And the world will be born againin circles of steaming breathand beams of lightas each one of us directsour inner eyeupon its name.Hear the cry of wings,the sigh of leaves and grass,smell the new sweet mist risingas the pathway is cleared at last.Stones stand ready -they have knownsince ages and ages agothat they were not alone.Water carries the planet's energyinto skies and down to earth and bones.The cold parts steadily as we come together,bodies and hearts warm,hands tingling.We are silentbut our eyes are singing.We look, we feel, we know,we trust each other's souls,we have no need to speak.Not now, but later,when the time is right,the name will ringwithin the iron coreof each other's listening -and the very earth's being.Every creature, every plant,will hear it calling,tolling like a bell -a sound we've always feltbut never dared to hopeto hear reverberating -true at last, at every levelof existence.The poets come togetherto open the intimate centre.Believein life and air -breathe the light itself,for these are the energiesand rhythms that we needto see, to touch, to reach,to identify, to say, the NAME.Colours on your skinfuse and dissolve -leave the river cleanfor pure space and timeto enter and flow in.We all become one fluid streamof stillness and motion,of flaring thoughtpulses discoveringweird pools and twists withinwhere darkness hidesfrom the flames in our eyesbut will not snare us.We probe deeper still,journeying towards a unitywhich will be more rawand yet also more formedthan anything writtenor spoken before.Our fragile bodiesfall away -and the trees, and the roots of trees,guide us -lead us awayfrom the faces we rememberseeing each day in the mirror -into an oceanof dreamsseething with warmth,love,where the beginningis real,ripe, evolving.And the world is born againin circles of steaming breathand beams of light.An ache - a signal -a trembling moment -and the time is rightto say the name.We sing as one wholevoice of the universal -all the words, the namesof every tiny thirsting thing,and they ring out togetheras one sound,one energy, one sense,one vibration, one breath.And the world listens,beats, shines, glows -IS -Exists!
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And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, "'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door- Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;- This it is, and nothing more.
The Earth was not dead. She had been sick, yes, weakened by an infestation. Now she was ridding herself of it. For those who remained alive the choice was a simple one, whether they realised it yet or not: Work with the land-- respect it and give back to it-- or die.
Love is an exorcism of angels.
Sing a song of suspense in which the players die.Four and twenty ravens in an Edgar Allan Pie.When the pie was broken, the ravens couldn't sing.Their throats had been sliced open by Stephen, the new King.The King was in his writing house, stifling a laughWhile his queen was in a tizzy of her bloody Lovecraft.When the dead maid got the garden for her rank as royal whore,King's shovel made it double and he married nevermore.
If on thoughts of death we are fed,Thus, a coffin, became my bed.