Saturday, September 25, 2010

Four, My Secret Muse

Four, My Secret Muse


We try to tell you
explain so clearly
you must need so badly
to be blind
What twisted so
maliciously your mind?
Is it your God -- Created
that greedy leaders may 
more easily prevail?
Is it guilt and shame seeded
by consistent training insisting that you fail?
Enemies of chaos, steeped in fear
"Anything I will to you; just save me!"
Lost to balance, lost to whole
possibilities, splintering reality,
losing consciousness, losing
the ability
to be free
or sane
Fighting off complexity with
angry names, a screen of stones
thrown in bloody sacrifice
Eternal life is yours, we scream
While you destroy your birthright
in service to
a conjured dream
of denial


We who endure that searing penalty
for being born other than imperial
for being torn into what we
are told is real
without power to protect
ourselves from venal human scum
brothers of the order
spreading hatred
like any venereal disease
We no longer need to meet you
cowering on our knees
Ordained in derisive delight
enlightened, relieved of our plight
It's yours now to decide:  flight or
frightened obeisance.
Karma's a hot potent bitch
unschooled in mercy
(education cuts don't guarantee
ignorance of what is taught 
on these mean streets)
Witches reclaiming noble heritage,
reframing herstories
can no more be beaten
by usurped power.


Listen, little one, we will prevail
Though born and forced to serve in
our master's jail
watching every moment for our chance
we will break free
to adventure, romance
dancing away the chill of
foreign hills
etched in leaves and grass;
hiding in enchanted castles,
lost and lonely midst the masses,
masked to fit expected forms,
but it's just for a bit while we learn
new norms, learn to become what 
we were from the start
Each a creature alive to the beat
of our own-reasoned heart


Such ugliness in this beautiful world.
I blame us.
(No, not Americans, you anti-blame-America first crowd)
Homo saps --
amazingly creatively obscene.
Mundanely capable of barbaric acts
I don't want to imagine are we
It is hard for me to know how to feel.
Thinking peace, sweetness and light, 
to attract what I desire
feels phony.
Anger feels nonproductive --
a tightening in my heart shrieking:
"Let it be done with!"
Seeking for another world to find
a fantasy respite, tightly aligned to
a bright inner sphere, binding to what
I hold dear, holding on for dear life,
would certainly simplify my dilemma.
I wish I could remember when all was
certain, life assured by Jehovah, or one of 
His supplicants.  That was before the
Awakening, when everything
woke up different, less defined.
Somewhere in my convoluted mind I know
is the answer.
Penultimate questions line up
for Communion.  Holy guests 
fly in mage's mass.
Lightning strikes
presaging cognition.
Key's in the ignition.
Let's go for a ride to some other side.
If we ever get back, nothing will be
the same.  Unleashed from the pain,
designated renegade.  Learning to fly,
escape from the herd hate stone,
can't be as hard as learning to stand

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