tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29122664234243434792024-03-05T22:58:09.793-08:00Secrets of Redemptionan almost monthly dedicationBrooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-53146962969339454602012-04-23T16:49:00.001-07:002012-04-23T16:49:34.521-07:00Revelations & AwakeningsI peered into the clouds from a terrace and an emerald sword was piercing the heavens, the heavens usually so distant formed a cocoon onto which the lights of the neon gods projected their pollution as if a battle of wills were at play. Who is servant and who is master and I to arbitrate between the contestants. But I am no arbitrator merely an observer trying to discern a reality, and to any delusional mind the inhabitants of the earth the sirens calling out from below whirling through the streets and reverberating all the way up and out to celestial realms were sufficient proof that it was they who dictated their own perverse destinies… but I stood from without burdened with the knowledge of their erroneous plague, burdened as if an idol upon a cross, struggling as my ancestors and the fathers of my fathers with a Name. A name ineffable and yet indelibly marked upon my very core as an anchor, as a root, as a tether keeping me hinged in an unhinged construction we relate to as world. It was me that the masters were battling over as they do over the souls of all men, men created from the material earth, men created with the breath of the Divine. And as I saw the distortions drip down my face and crawl out of the gullet I compelled them away so that I may truly withdraw from their presence and enter into that of Another’s. The sanctification of times are the keys to the universe and the means of interaction with Transcendence. They are life and well of sustenance transmitted in a symbol-laden machine emergent through the eras and as crystallized by the sons of prophets in the Iron Age. Were it not for them I would have no license, with sealed lips and no invitation to praise. Dust standing before the sublime daring to enunciate a syllable, an offense damn near killable. Yet they reached my hands, so that they may bathe in the tears of newfound realizations. Wave upon wave rippling through my being, pulsing with a masochistic pleasure in the joys of tearing down dilapidated floorboards that had grown cherished. Nothing, nothing, nothing… just fleeting and moment. Flotsam and jetsam obfuscating an eternal treasure. A treasure not mine and yet with grace flowing upon me. A storehouse of unadulterated light from its origins, no trappings, no designs, no egos and crimes. Prostration before a true Master and Lord of Peace, a barefoot step back against the comforts of man. A knock at the door, and two dark angels inquire “do you know this man?” to which “of course, he’s my brother!” and a new step in the journey makes its mark in the evening with the solace of one corpse granted blissful resurrection…Brooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-42221104577967897882011-03-30T21:28:00.001-07:002011-03-30T21:28:28.375-07:00Years Against the MorrowPoppy, pa, where has he gone? Why did he leave us? Didn’t he believe us? His pain and his sorrow the years against the morrow… These unfair questions that nag us and drag us. His princess his bride, his jewel and his pride… returned to the earth… What was she worth? For him more than life and even his children, he said to himself “my wife or my burdens?”… He chose his choice and it was for eternal rejoice. But couldn’t he have made another? If not but for a while? Just live on that limb which we all knew was denial? He couldn’t, he didn’t, he would’ve if he could, I now know when that day comes that I really should. He gave and he gave so we knew of his heart lest you’d need a pick to unlock it or tear it apart. He was my father, the one I never had, he is my model for being a dad. In reading my writing I see ghosts of his words, fluttering in the distance like migrating birds. Just as he chased after her that was fleeting now I too face a world in which I am bleeding. Time heals wounds but it also leaves scars, sutures and stitches emotional mars. I am his son, I am his legacy, I stand on his shoulders and now… well, let us see…Brooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-53999421975320933332011-02-10T02:37:00.000-08:002011-03-24T20:34:07.476-07:00CompulsionI feel compelled to feel compelled to create but I don't feel compelled to create though I take gratification in its accomplishment.Brooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-80133959453188448312010-12-16T20:28:00.000-08:002011-03-24T20:31:44.213-07:00The Inebriates ConfessionPlease, please, please bring me to my knees one day, one day, one day I’ll be able to do it to do it to sing to be it to just be one with who I am and what I want to be so beautifully so beautifully so blissfully this, this right here this feeling this right what I need I bleed I need it just like this right now right here please Lord, please Lord, cut the cord, cut that cord that prevents me from being who I am and want to be why can’t I do it why can’t I why can’t eye why can’t ….. I don’t want it to be easy I want it to be me, I want to always feel like this, like an eternal union, eternal, eternal union this beat it brings it brings me bopr ttat head bop it bop it bop it … see where it takes you ….. intense intense wna dthen not so./.. the end.<br /><br /> Melodious machinery why can’t I be like you and just operate according to a players notes…. Why can’t I just bleat out sonorous song with the presence it brings without having to compose it all. Must be an instrument that feels the music it creates. I am but a fool who dreams of the impossible with reality beckoning to him but he ignores it into an imitative scene of breakings. <br /><br />Convulsing, convulsing with the beat can you help it? They go, they, they go on, on and on without your permission… if It stopped you’d miss it…. I try to stop the beat but its passion weighs me, it weighs me, it weighs me up and down it takes me where I need to go but never want to be, in a moment it flows out on pages with wages of time to tell. To sell, to be with bell of all that’s wrong. Its siren is hiring those that want to bash it your skill if they they don t fnont fine you are they’re your own. Expectations hope who are you are you there? Magic boy? Just like the mold they create just like that clone they satiate. Go ahead delete your words as they come, they’re yours you can’t help it you know. They all wanna know as you as you sway and flow. <br /><br />Pervasive tone …….one direction or another …. You have no brothers. It’s just you, you are all alone. No father no brother no one to see you as you are to relate to you on your own plane just to keep you sane to take you under their wing to help you sing to chirp out those tunes just like all the other loons. You, you are your own father, your own brother but what good are you? Especially when you can’t help but be blue? You antisocial pent up special you. You lust for love to bury yourself in but where has it gotten you. You sell yourself for some other girl some other twirl just to twist your mind and it’s not you and it’s not who you want to be. It’s just a touch, that girl on the train but you can’t help it but be more … you bury your head in your sages book in your tiny nook in your corner in your brain solace from what’s around you what confounds you what surrounds you and wants to be you. I’m a beast a beast a sacred beast that’s not too sacred crying out from inside to be a man yet looks like one. Fill your mind. Fill it up.Brooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-20957054822001904912010-10-11T18:47:00.000-07:002010-10-11T19:01:30.235-07:00Your Presence is Requested<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7UUJ3ZXI05irGs03tx1pnJ2VoOuzxAG2K5GMJeXcWoMKEjxB-tM-q3zJhe43W7wQqcxUUhMoy7JePByxvqjmt1sxrd-FORMVVhHMWwQbg3JwTrW7V0vBL4MJ46U0y2PK1uGFLU7-nF4tr/s1600/Your+Presence+is+Requested.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 369px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7UUJ3ZXI05irGs03tx1pnJ2VoOuzxAG2K5GMJeXcWoMKEjxB-tM-q3zJhe43W7wQqcxUUhMoy7JePByxvqjmt1sxrd-FORMVVhHMWwQbg3JwTrW7V0vBL4MJ46U0y2PK1uGFLU7-nF4tr/s400/Your+Presence+is+Requested.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526973489988458626" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Torn between poles torn between holes<br />Torn between myself and the scroll <br />Hallowed being suffocating <br />Shallow being just negating <br />Bursting trapped inside this cage <br />Thirsting for the ceaseless rage <br />Trite and pleasant are the senses <br />Might a peasant take defenses<br />Plunge into another recess <br />Lunge at what one does profess <br />I can be that one of vision <br />Cast aside an indecision <br />Forethought, planning and design <br />Tools with which I can define <br /> Time will tell which tasks remain <br />If I fail I stay the same <br />But should I thrive and do excel <br />That is my heaven’s release from hellBrooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-6801638766288548972010-09-12T10:47:00.000-07:002010-10-07T10:51:25.418-07:00Confess<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUO_gd03TwPDGLM0M4urUQD8LKWlQHi6o62mDP74q-CPkx47r3tbWeOeKwtBSWwxZbNDMRcaAaMFIWR8bHOLOOTvdSQgeC5XB27Tmu81OizM0PD9UUwC9WlaYmMOC2z6CuzfLY2JmuFMPx/s1600/Fire.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUO_gd03TwPDGLM0M4urUQD8LKWlQHi6o62mDP74q-CPkx47r3tbWeOeKwtBSWwxZbNDMRcaAaMFIWR8bHOLOOTvdSQgeC5XB27Tmu81OizM0PD9UUwC9WlaYmMOC2z6CuzfLY2JmuFMPx/s400/Fire.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525362523981708354" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The smoke ascends the alter, wayward sins we tend to falter<br />Sanctify dignify glorify – commitment to the divine system <br />Vice, depravity, immoral deeds – just an external symptom <br />The clutches the crutches the penetrating roots rotting the core <br />Abandoned, ashamed, set for confession – repent, repent once more<br />Enrobed in the purest of white masking the indications and implications <br />Mocking ourselves for we are the only ones subject to corporal subjugation <br />The crasses the masses the straying asses oh, woe unto our Holy NationBrooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-42400495983346588212010-08-22T10:38:00.000-07:002010-10-07T10:42:33.818-07:00Sanctuary's Stream<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrSBhsat31wKVbYhKLij8d9M3zTDrDfg2pQfo8k5LR3g_txKKP8DB8ppcyWqtFcEJONmMExqce9-iC7X8fB9UrsrhTlLHQTw_rPn-qFPoi9tuKcN_d8MSFoB4Cm1FewXIQzK_sZLt8qoDO/s1600/Fish.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 202px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrSBhsat31wKVbYhKLij8d9M3zTDrDfg2pQfo8k5LR3g_txKKP8DB8ppcyWqtFcEJONmMExqce9-iC7X8fB9UrsrhTlLHQTw_rPn-qFPoi9tuKcN_d8MSFoB4Cm1FewXIQzK_sZLt8qoDO/s400/Fish.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525360371231865458" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The mother the monster the magnificent fish<br />I sought you I caught you I made you a dish<br />Dipped into cool waters and emerged as a man<br />Brought you to slaughter and fried in the pan<br />We battled for days but I knew where you lived<br />I saddled my instincts and I’d never forgive<br />As soon as we met I knew you were mine<br />So was my merit, that Sabbath we dined<br />As you roasted over those flames<br />I thought to myself, “Oh nature, I’ve tamed”<br />Primitively I slaved over a fire<br />Recognizing I can’t slake my desires<br />But at least if I catch one by the tail<br />Your precious roe will fail to prevail<br />And so it was in that running stream<br />I conquered a beast born of dreamsBrooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-75774718550455387062010-07-21T10:32:00.000-07:002010-10-07T10:37:48.328-07:00Escape<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwY6wk7nsaMJFybPgSifLUGncG95Ms3IxBWtTnMMrSMUwtOpE727l_CK2vbiUvQ3SfsCGdunhftJcE4gtpqR3gacvNqsCknwykZJT17DJ88y0dGNaINHIEJItVnqZflGs7nBnnEwNMcWS_/s1600/Escape.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwY6wk7nsaMJFybPgSifLUGncG95Ms3IxBWtTnMMrSMUwtOpE727l_CK2vbiUvQ3SfsCGdunhftJcE4gtpqR3gacvNqsCknwykZJT17DJ88y0dGNaINHIEJItVnqZflGs7nBnnEwNMcWS_/s400/Escape.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525359208795420146" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Frustrated, elated, the son is sedated<br />Woeful and burdened he lasts till his girders<br />They crutch him they hold him he reaches for something<br />He wastes, he creates, he self annihilates<br />Shatter the bondage that is the body<br />Burst the shell that is rotted and shoddy<br />Why can’t he do it – he must look within<br />Why can’t he escape the clutches of sin<br />His essence his kernel his infernal eternal<br />Marred and charred and bothered diurnal<br />Days just move on and the dreams taunt<br />An unconscious seam to the only true haunt<br />He is his enemy and no one else<br />He is to blame the eye of the selfBrooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-49153664431299252012010-05-30T05:30:00.000-07:002010-06-06T18:43:26.025-07:00Why Be Tea?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrcAkGMYZVi42uH_JCCG7dFhbUiVLnLx9T07B1j_NYpxYPtTZhjpLn8mg5jhBv2c48CIrGMHmKFd6w6m8PMinveLIkU-4XmpoqYOO831r6Bp4nhA9TaUqrFJOshE3DYEcZlXheKOZSGfXM/s1600/P1050021.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrcAkGMYZVi42uH_JCCG7dFhbUiVLnLx9T07B1j_NYpxYPtTZhjpLn8mg5jhBv2c48CIrGMHmKFd6w6m8PMinveLIkU-4XmpoqYOO831r6Bp4nhA9TaUqrFJOshE3DYEcZlXheKOZSGfXM/s400/P1050021.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479840496417298434" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Abandon the home of my mind The tomes lost their binds They wither they fall away Faded letters melody Imprint upon my DNA Sing songs in rhapsody Return to the grounds With the logical sounds My brethren do despair My souls in need of repair Go out and grow Sample the world With seeds to sow Wits a swirl A memory of ivory Stolen sensory It must return what was once spurned It must yearn what is learned A distant notion of devotion On lips of motion for sinful oceans On the cheeks of outlaws the meek the stout raw The girdled the roughened with wizened The hurdles of tough ones lies on My home do not go away lest I be led astray.Brooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-62276110418941283122010-04-25T14:11:00.000-07:002010-05-17T14:18:25.252-07:00Another Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYJ5-u4nQFzNpOEu3lNmzrP6ISP3DBG_MZwVTtPM2-ipFufpFl7-Rw4H9pK3aYAMtoASVrmuU4jEVO5DXSbybjUsZVnouApYhRf50LqezZEEd-5HTIZImwn5LN1Zq2WvEfd7D2PTXb34_o/s1600/Emboy.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 385px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYJ5-u4nQFzNpOEu3lNmzrP6ISP3DBG_MZwVTtPM2-ipFufpFl7-Rw4H9pK3aYAMtoASVrmuU4jEVO5DXSbybjUsZVnouApYhRf50LqezZEEd-5HTIZImwn5LN1Zq2WvEfd7D2PTXb34_o/s400/Emboy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472351207732431634" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Magnificent womb maternal vibes<br />Magnificent tomb marking our lives<br />A putrid drop gives rise to creation<br />Intrepid voyage of abnegation<br />Sarah’s son placed on the alter<br />The angels never came to let it falter<br />Tears fell in anguished prayers<br />Fears expressed in soulful despair<br />Kindness to a thousand generations<br />Withholding our devastation<br />Tremendous sorrow tinged with gratitude<br />Tidings born with accepting magnitude<br />How do we die?<br />How do we live?<br />How do we learn to love the One that gives?Brooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-33583976590982227342010-03-24T17:29:00.000-07:002010-03-24T17:33:46.030-07:00Pharaonic<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtShHTQsLvRZvsKfZ596F2yvygHd9Cts1EMGg5gGi9EPJFksPWJ1ZCTilTVZLpNqp2vEV4YE_qq_5JCjRICGgC2i4Klq54elUIgKKwM2B_w38FainVTREzW6TnJNVkG7AnJAmcpWLuywJe/s1600/P3240004.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 329px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtShHTQsLvRZvsKfZ596F2yvygHd9Cts1EMGg5gGi9EPJFksPWJ1ZCTilTVZLpNqp2vEV4YE_qq_5JCjRICGgC2i4Klq54elUIgKKwM2B_w38FainVTREzW6TnJNVkG7AnJAmcpWLuywJe/s400/P3240004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452362861543539122" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The earth it swallows tribes<br />The birth of fallow vibes<br />Dormant in creation<br />Ticking time for devastation<br />Corrupted corruptions lacking ratiocination<br />Fateful effects, weaving, heaving, perverse believing<br />Another age implodes forward<br />Another stage, habitually untoward<br />Time to surface from eternal drowning<br />Fine for purpose and infernal crowning<br />Topple the idol, the state, the father, the hate<br />Bills from papermills nothing more than kindling<br />Reduce the risk of fire whilst enflamed<br />Kills for daffodils something more than swindling<br />Excuse for a feral beast lying tamedBrooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-68388066809226947112010-02-17T18:32:00.000-08:002010-02-17T18:36:27.653-08:00January Came and Went<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJG8ZODq1RPbQFOstv_YTij3-74w2fNAbBN51kpwHULCXvtGpEkGIQOX-vEu57lTwJzRLIIodKh_H0GFnJOCy-3f8CD0e5Xfr5MNx8BqFitFokHaSJqfvEc9O8uTONY0Zj_wW0RmYyXmzY/s1600-h/PB220027.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJG8ZODq1RPbQFOstv_YTij3-74w2fNAbBN51kpwHULCXvtGpEkGIQOX-vEu57lTwJzRLIIodKh_H0GFnJOCy-3f8CD0e5Xfr5MNx8BqFitFokHaSJqfvEc9O8uTONY0Zj_wW0RmYyXmzY/s400/PB220027.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439406265614832994" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />“Ellie, Ellie, where is my Ellie?”<br />She took eternal form don’t be forlorn<br />Reality don’t stop for you young man<br />Reality don’t stop no matter your plan<br />Down to the grave to atone<br />365 and raise a monument of stone<br />The tears flow and yet the earth turns<br />They all go on and yet your soul burns<br />A righteous mother leaves the land<br />And still the resurrected don’t stand<br />Risen from the dust from which you came<br />To return once more but not the same<br />Embrace your mortality and you’ll escape fatality<br />Live divinely live genuinely your moment here is timelyBrooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-23458114727701543312009-12-14T15:17:00.000-08:002009-12-14T15:54:37.911-08:00Revolt<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEichf0EGRSufS7Pm7kNRbE2ER940Cizzu1X_u8u9vKAcPOwmsSfByz-J6aHfpNaeROhoILswAaaqBY46jlzsK1gApqF9GBP8GbLMiUJnEK8AKlBB8bHwBrEv-MP52Ysba9hBby3bUbrHRmE/s1600-h/PC140025.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEichf0EGRSufS7Pm7kNRbE2ER940Cizzu1X_u8u9vKAcPOwmsSfByz-J6aHfpNaeROhoILswAaaqBY46jlzsK1gApqF9GBP8GbLMiUJnEK8AKlBB8bHwBrEv-MP52Ysba9hBby3bUbrHRmE/s400/PC140025.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415237866002582066" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The priestly family was on a mission - to stem back the tide of Hellenic sedition. The House of Sanctity had been defiled, foreshadowing an imminent Greek exile. They readied their blades for the wars of the Lord, to ensure that their purity would be restored. With His hammer they struck back to defend, His fiery words guiding their ends. The women too committed their lives and achieved success with a tyrant’s demise. Victory was granted into their hands, they emerged in triumph from their last stand. Cleansed of the filth, His House of Choice no longer soiled. It lacked only one thing and that was pure holy oil. A hidden cruse was Divine confirmation, lasting eight days, that He was their salvation.Brooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-75331229550278945492009-11-26T14:45:00.000-08:002009-12-13T14:47:57.274-08:00Who hath the power?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAjaeq9O7L1EcyOnUdlIzWa76I0iIzrTqUJNXzIggGZx04WpLmV74H_qZrB7dusuig6Ag16X9pXSvS3pOTI0-ASkycDCgcGe7Rafa6fIFpp0_ekNlnyT2_11-HSXkz9ufMgKjodTLxUhJe/s1600-h/P5100282+-+Copy.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAjaeq9O7L1EcyOnUdlIzWa76I0iIzrTqUJNXzIggGZx04WpLmV74H_qZrB7dusuig6Ag16X9pXSvS3pOTI0-ASkycDCgcGe7Rafa6fIFpp0_ekNlnyT2_11-HSXkz9ufMgKjodTLxUhJe/s400/P5100282+-+Copy.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414856041371102386" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Foolish rites and customs barons dukes knights and empty phrases carpe diem. Nuff said. Pilgrims Injuns bloody day, socialists anarachists compelled to pray. Nuff said. Feast on Franklin’s national bird contrary to every myth you thought ya heard. Nuff said. Gather round the youngins to corrupt the youth, no one’s sharing hemlock for the cyanide’s in your tooth. Nuff said. Fatal trajectory in the winds the financiers couldn’t help but bear their toothy grins. Nuff said. Stifle the system the unordered order and find your disorder. Nuff said. Say no more for there’s been nuff said. Nuff said to tell ya that nuff’s been said.Brooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-77333452746458711152009-10-18T14:19:00.000-07:002009-12-13T14:22:46.207-08:00The pious of the ages<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIyA-imXY8WW15uusWdCtREMAxaQ4XnAejRtMBNEHGSHvXena43t0b3zBwZrB59cHUAZnSwvyut86kWVaN-LQXHlj5LCjZXWMKzc4eBaJ9pxws9WWNTYIrf7b8BF4_FYN1BgB5AAqJbMVO/s1600-h/P8220032.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIyA-imXY8WW15uusWdCtREMAxaQ4XnAejRtMBNEHGSHvXena43t0b3zBwZrB59cHUAZnSwvyut86kWVaN-LQXHlj5LCjZXWMKzc4eBaJ9pxws9WWNTYIrf7b8BF4_FYN1BgB5AAqJbMVO/s400/P8220032.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414849199100770482" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The pious of the ages emerging from sacred pages invest in the sages. The right and the left veer not from their acumen their regimen their illumined intellectual vitamin. Ingest it digest it divest it they’ve blessed it. Matter take form forlorn for their bond of life their eternal strife invigorated by Abraham’s knife. Commitment insistence delay the play take the stage again resort to that den that den of iniquity the den of base victory. Illicit plunder hidden from under a throne a glorious throne intended to atone for the sin, the shame, the blame, the terrible game. Don’t follow my stolen path back to the garden with granite barriers that’ve hardened arisen with sharp flames that I’ve tamed. Follow the righteous the recluse the invasive rescue the overdrive stay alive the instinctual subjugation hive the deathtrap of a body of a material waste in haste. Shun me like the leper the shlepper the one who leads astray the one white as snow but vile as a nuclear glow lest the infection go on the detection spurred and pawned passed off for another opponent another beast another brain stained by desire for hire. Easy to slay easy to stay its nothing but a mountain a molehill an edifice grand stand against the damned declare your war and sound the horn before another generation is born another devastation is torn another integration raises its beast of a head in the mourn.Brooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-27720024735631209062009-09-17T13:03:00.000-07:002009-12-13T13:07:10.181-08:00Monarchic Night<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJA1FiQ8u_0u4i3VtyMzIhLcTmwT2HfYLc6GEG8tsC6ziv0Tsp3amDXD-gEPF6pnInyxyYx20vwGKGUZvtzC7F-t1x5IwBaDsGOEul65RVGNZm8KIX7iL6mJi-t-UV7ToX_ryslbuYYYvh/s1600-h/IMG_7050.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJA1FiQ8u_0u4i3VtyMzIhLcTmwT2HfYLc6GEG8tsC6ziv0Tsp3amDXD-gEPF6pnInyxyYx20vwGKGUZvtzC7F-t1x5IwBaDsGOEul65RVGNZm8KIX7iL6mJi-t-UV7ToX_ryslbuYYYvh/s400/IMG_7050.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414829729857241426" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Slithering around the world slithering from day to day slithering around the world is there nothing left to say. Holler at your people now, watch them curtsy kneel and bow, holler at your people now. Watch the empire hail their Mao. The heavens grant your gown and crown, the heavens grant your grin and frown. The laws are born of theft and force, the laws are born bereft of remorse. Every man endowed an image to reject, rape and pillage. The end is nigh the end is near, the end they’ll say there’s none to fear. Every move invites a stare, vanity tells you you don’t care. The end belies its own career, the end’ll crush your precious dear.Brooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-91900050640757962252009-08-19T16:10:00.000-07:002009-12-13T12:52:25.382-08:00Traffic<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk5-X_x3fjidEnsk10G3CZ0WdqOBch79AxvvtoZ8QtQaok7YmsVgQXgUJcp1mjG_qkfnEeupyZ1gf-fQozZIKiSP_5TCLVhjPPTqf7gt39_mcuAVGjEpZs8x_LoakxrF2_L8a-jCyITo4P/s1600-h/P9279365.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 600px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk5-X_x3fjidEnsk10G3CZ0WdqOBch79AxvvtoZ8QtQaok7YmsVgQXgUJcp1mjG_qkfnEeupyZ1gf-fQozZIKiSP_5TCLVhjPPTqf7gt39_mcuAVGjEpZs8x_LoakxrF2_L8a-jCyITo4P/s400/P9279365.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371816729940018290" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Kidney bean, cut me clean fork over dollars<br />Cant be seen, blood machine – everyone hollers<br />Saints and sinners join in hands<br />Surgeons rise to meet demands<br />Kidney bean, cut me clean fork over dollars<br />Dialysis narcissist save a man and save the world<br />Analysis cant resist slave to save that sagely pearl<br />Kidney bean, cut me clean fork over dollars<br />Cant be seen, blood machine – everyone hollersBrooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-7766843393301202172009-08-19T16:07:00.000-07:002009-08-19T16:10:13.750-07:00Six Orders<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheUDtk9o0B7SqLavDsh_d53b9vu9oUDUNR85p3MVCh3eObjUE1RO4DWVqNIZAYGm8ChWsAYqv92OHGupZSB5RN8pXYDIJwgrzuL-l0uvJskDGSCtmdMpGDYbx33XC9XVacnux8LI_AJltG/s1600-h/IMG_5978.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheUDtk9o0B7SqLavDsh_d53b9vu9oUDUNR85p3MVCh3eObjUE1RO4DWVqNIZAYGm8ChWsAYqv92OHGupZSB5RN8pXYDIJwgrzuL-l0uvJskDGSCtmdMpGDYbx33XC9XVacnux8LI_AJltG/s400/IMG_5978.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371816105088975714" /></a><br /><br />Six orders six orders he arranged holy orders<br />Sagely crib notes of their Master’s quotes<br />Collected recorded preserved sanctified borders<br />Transmission on Sinai ever remote<br />Oral dissemination on the brink of destruction <br />Gathered, collated, bound and expounded<br />The Prince set down his divine instruction <br />Memorized, verbalized, eventually confounded <br />Law, tradition, sacred dictate <br />The nation imperiled cast to four winds<br />Preserved, conserved, not a moment too late <br />Revelation heralded despite our sad sins<br />Sura, Pumbadisa academies arose <br />New questions, old answers.<br />A new dialectic was left to compose <br />New questions old answers <br />Old answers new questions <br />New questions new questions<br />Old answers old answers<br />Six orders six orders we defend holy ordersBrooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-61173325124330285262009-07-30T22:17:00.000-07:002009-07-30T22:19:49.626-07:00Perpetual Destruction<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4cwZUGDB-4Z0zgswkdR-mVKc3p2PqF914nrDu-jwOUc4YzqvIilei1-nW_BMkdL6PHlQmvV7NxmrTPW0C6KFSTeN0uPGQ-CmvbvES9aSdtghfLgpix_1YtM1O1HmrIF5ucmI5JfugSp-b/s1600-h/P4120099.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4cwZUGDB-4Z0zgswkdR-mVKc3p2PqF914nrDu-jwOUc4YzqvIilei1-nW_BMkdL6PHlQmvV7NxmrTPW0C6KFSTeN0uPGQ-CmvbvES9aSdtghfLgpix_1YtM1O1HmrIF5ucmI5JfugSp-b/s400/P4120099.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364489326029777810" /></a><br /><br />Sometimes I try to mourn and I just can’t bring myself to feel<br />Sometimes I try to mourn and fail to grasp that heal <br />Introspect and look within Introspect it flickers dim <br />Introspect retroject architect <br />I am master of my own design<br />Intellect I detect my own mine <br />Its just you just you the unjust the conceptual wanderlust<br />Traveling back and forth to and fro all within <br />All within and committed to sin committed to tin <br />Flexible malleable breakable animal <br />Be something more simply more something for <br />What for something more just for nothing more<br />Longer in exile than homeBrooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-14513082326820415552009-07-20T21:11:00.000-07:002009-07-20T21:16:20.064-07:00They're on the Horizon<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkLwMadnDgmOraktXfI51_3IA8HmUeCqKafiG_voHGwfRlSwvP0EAoFOA6L-7OshOBttOZqYOG34bRa8-Cj0eBGnnVEHB548tTDoEVvyO-ALkg9oxlVtOZuRpqSqcyp3tSFypsL5EfEb0Y/s1600-h/P7190003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkLwMadnDgmOraktXfI51_3IA8HmUeCqKafiG_voHGwfRlSwvP0EAoFOA6L-7OshOBttOZqYOG34bRa8-Cj0eBGnnVEHB548tTDoEVvyO-ALkg9oxlVtOZuRpqSqcyp3tSFypsL5EfEb0Y/s400/P7190003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360762291325961730" /></a><br /><br />The heavens swirl above<br />The heavens crash like doves<br />Fiery comets flame across the sky<br />Fiery comets dance across my eye<br />Oh cypress Oh cypress you pierce atmospheres<br />Oh cypress Oh cypress you fierce source of tears<br />Little hamlet down below <br />Sleeping, slumbering, silently<br />Catch the steeple spire<br />Little egret draped in snow<br />Whispering, grumbling, violently<br />Match the eagle, eagle’s ire<br />The blue hills roll away<br />The dew spills decay<br />And the righteous do return<br />The runts run amuck<br />Cold fronts a struck <br />And the righteous do return<br />Where do they hide?<br />Where do they bide?<br />The time it goes, it goes, it drifts<br />I watch it, I feel it, it passes me by<br />Change, its only evidence <br />To terrorize, to anathematize, to pulverize <br />My mind, my blind mind, my ignorance <br />The bliss it wisps it wisps <br />Broken promise, frailties honest<br />I’ll miss the wisps the locks<br />Where are the righteous? <br />How far, the righteous? <br />We are. We are. The righteous.Brooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-27217737334417828802009-06-15T16:20:00.000-07:002009-07-14T19:21:14.069-07:00Enamored of Brisk<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq4JcIt0TWS_yz7TQfLzD-wVs4M80-8Mq4Mxn2NCnVt5glnN2LmzsSo6gB3j0aZu4pFRn8F-repLKKWMgSFoUFeF6uMl_CQ6serKiofOPRm0102xeoXxXu9FakAcv5YXVoENwzo99m_JtH/s1600-h/cube-only.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 349px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq4JcIt0TWS_yz7TQfLzD-wVs4M80-8Mq4Mxn2NCnVt5glnN2LmzsSo6gB3j0aZu4pFRn8F-repLKKWMgSFoUFeF6uMl_CQ6serKiofOPRm0102xeoXxXu9FakAcv5YXVoENwzo99m_JtH/s400/cube-only.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357754079280731090" /></a><br /><br /><br />The structure the rupture the bleeding design<br />It twists and contorts it makes the mind blind<br />Determined as sermons to illuminate<br />To brighten conceptions and illustrate <br />At times it muddles in making its point<br />It primes and befuddles but won’t disappoint <br />The cheftza the gavra – ah its mistabra! <br />Nu, cut to the chase, the sevara awaits! <br />But the hava amina n’ maskana can’t both be right? <br />Ah, good ol’ tzvei dinim it cuts like a knife! <br />Massage, manipulate (coerce?) the text<br />Try not to leave a bit more perplexed<br />Clarity, lucidity, concepts defined <br />That is the goal, it sure is Divine <br /><br />One cannot but help admire the beauty...Brooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-28801212207585388842009-05-28T23:26:00.000-07:002009-07-12T17:41:41.809-07:00The Zealot<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpDaKCzR19f-Qq7E2YJtOp37fD_hyVuLhtfmkk7wdlRlXaBza9vxnA9jLbYrjTE8kqQflhV1nhZyUJc9WA869SCNMPcXvCDI-vjPmSEVPL5ZFJexO-pyIGs7MdWW7hTwvIXjjDydO5cpx5/s1600-h/P3250001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpDaKCzR19f-Qq7E2YJtOp37fD_hyVuLhtfmkk7wdlRlXaBza9vxnA9jLbYrjTE8kqQflhV1nhZyUJc9WA869SCNMPcXvCDI-vjPmSEVPL5ZFJexO-pyIGs7MdWW7hTwvIXjjDydO5cpx5/s400/P3250001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357735818777572818" /></a><br /><br />The Zealot the Zealot the world hates the Zealot<br /><br />He bashes and crashes and rains on parades<br /><br />He mashes and clashes and reveals masquerades<br /><br />He condemns and denounces your very existence<br /><br />He coaxes and cajoles you to join the resistance<br /><br />High and mighty he sits above the masses<br /><br />Embodying virtues they’ve turned into lapses<br /><br />The world detests him for he is what they’re not<br /><br />The world resists him and wishes he’d rot<br /><br />He stands in the breaches that’ve come to define us<br /><br />He commands our attention, attempts to refine us<br /><br />The Zealot the Zealot the world hates a ZealotBrooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-71121467335424709392009-04-24T14:00:00.000-07:002009-07-12T17:41:01.148-07:00Elohai<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmWVy8NieTC0-NCtpHw8tF2X_sP5z5z0LBjaosASO-uYcGA6dq8kJCluwEG8aMiAW40vgfIkySeoaALSi1bTP5iIkUwkpSob-nLPi2NfLJ9alI1Gg_fZh1EzSzTPiPxPbQVvYm3rG9Vy0B/s1600-h/P9140142.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmWVy8NieTC0-NCtpHw8tF2X_sP5z5z0LBjaosASO-uYcGA6dq8kJCluwEG8aMiAW40vgfIkySeoaALSi1bTP5iIkUwkpSob-nLPi2NfLJ9alI1Gg_fZh1EzSzTPiPxPbQVvYm3rG9Vy0B/s400/P9140142.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357736472623008690" /></a><br /><br />Delicacy of the moment,<br />A wisp before the mind<br />In praise of His design. <br /><br />Eyes awaken, and I recognize my pure soul<br />He’s created it, fashioned it, breathed it into me<br />A true wonder I’ve not been found unworthy.<br />Eventually to be taken from the clutches of my flesh<br />If I merit resurrection it’ll be restored afresh.<br />For the God of my fathers – Gratitude<br />For the Master of deeds and Lord of souls – I conclude.<br />Blessed are You, Who restores the quintessence of man<br />To this dreadful body, this body that’s damned. <br /><br />Delicate moment passed, <br />Wisp gone before the mind<br />A new one arrives <br />Begging praise of His design.Brooklyn Habiruhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05833125890077400081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-49103460436564208392009-03-24T16:59:00.000-07:002012-06-13T13:27:01.890-07:00Kiddush HaḤamah<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMY99SzI-_dm0wLrIoGRXjRhbnlymcJIEOkI0sM_WZxSxTba_iDVRCPglzdd3WpzTQ8kHaVlC0C7pFS5meo0dA2GVhLqoqLxzOkwWeakVDDUch9BNLDYJk9q22CvgjN0eT_qRXIhREO3Hu/s1600-h/P8088689.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316908551512784082" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMY99SzI-_dm0wLrIoGRXjRhbnlymcJIEOkI0sM_WZxSxTba_iDVRCPglzdd3WpzTQ8kHaVlC0C7pFS5meo0dA2GVhLqoqLxzOkwWeakVDDUch9BNLDYJk9q22CvgjN0eT_qRXIhREO3Hu/s400/P8088689.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<br />
The masses will cry out “it’s the sun! it’s the sun!” <br />
And rush out into the streets to bless the Holy One. <br />
They’ll proclaim the sovereignty of the Master of Creation,<br />
Who arranged the constellations and graced His holy nation. <br />
A moment will pass to contemplate the universe,<br />
And consider the eons that have been traversed. <br />
Form entrapped in but insignificant dust,<br />
Granted the opportunity to express its trust. <br />
<br />
Natural phenomenon in the Month of Redemption, <br />
Raising fevered pitches and testing temptations. <br />
Imaginations begin to run amuck, <br />
Messianist dreamers foretell fortunes struck. <br />
Failing to take heed of an infrequent moment <br />
Our nation seems lost in its spiraling descent. <br />
<br />
Arise from the dust! Let the light shine upon you!<br />
Break material bonds and sow reason anew! <br />
Marvel at the wonderful structures of reality, <br />
In awe of He who set forth all in its totality! <br />
Humility expanding in newfound lungs, <br />
Breathing afresh amidst renewed songs sung. <br />
<br />
Follow this path and illusions lose luster<br />
Gird yourselves and gather strength to muster.<br />
The battle for illumination has yet to be won, <br />
So consider these thoughts when you gaze at the sun.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2912266423424343479.post-49441017943226471802009-02-05T18:15:00.000-08:002009-02-05T18:33:44.838-08:00Neutron Star<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd96sbGKdm1me1uNHiRh5EEaw20uzM0OYB319bvrfjS2q6hOOXbqJuNN26YK60EG6UyUnGWMlRy0kwtqthvh87HgGDJGXYoLwdYZOBVtnOXcjHrTEuHsr-IdQ86tJKlqSw5c8yzmzbDnhW/s1600-h/Manhattan+Beach+Dec.+28+07+012.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd96sbGKdm1me1uNHiRh5EEaw20uzM0OYB319bvrfjS2q6hOOXbqJuNN26YK60EG6UyUnGWMlRy0kwtqthvh87HgGDJGXYoLwdYZOBVtnOXcjHrTEuHsr-IdQ86tJKlqSw5c8yzmzbDnhW/s400/Manhattan+Beach+Dec.+28+07+012.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299506939420980386" border="0" /></a><br />Creativity sapped from a dry well.<br />An empty pit in the midst of a desolate tract.<br />Desertification taking hold of mind with creeping dunes.<br />A long gone withered cocoon.<br />The glorious insect is gone, whither it went is a wonder.<br />Neural passageways, electrochemical responses hollowed out.<br />Empty firings, missives to nowhere.<br /><br /><br />Suddenly it seeps in, flooding the crackled plain.<br />Rising and bursting, fashioning from dead embers flames.<br />Reverberating outwards splashing sparks on all it touches.<br />A sapling escaping a seed exploding from the soil.<br /><br /><br />And then the ebb regresses and the fade begins once again.<br />Momentary flashes, hopeful dashes.<br />Small glimmers of the world.<br />An infinitesimal fraction that miraculously escaped.<br />The somber pitch murmurs once again.<br />Desperately hoping to recapture bygones that may never return….<br /><br /><br />And then it does.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0