Obsidian Eagle's Blasphemous Bazaar - author central, anti-poetry, indie author

Obsidian Eagle's

Blasphemous Bazaar


META-Poems For A New Millennium

<br>META-Poems For A New Millennium<br><br>

The Flagship of Anti-Poetry — est. 2010 (Author Central)





Logos Endiathetos

Currently Reading:

Man and His Symbols



Note: This week's piece is the sister-poem to last week's: Logos Prophorikos



Logos Endiathetos

 

Far enough back, during ages now interred beneath historical sediment
Mankind hailed the transcendent, immanent Godhead
By regarding nature with an utmost degree of respect


Mountains, forests, oceans, lakes and streams were held to be sacrosanct
Likewise, animals were considered divine harbingers and our closest kith
While innocence afforded us a glimpse of the ineffable absolute


Still, it gradually came to pass that men grew leery of each other
Avaricious and fratricidal, they turned against one another
Christening barbarism a new virtue
Yea, from that time forth every war has involved
Ravishing foreign virgins, pillaging rival nations and enslaving their offspring


Having shed all compassion for his fellow hominids
Homo Erectus went on to domineer wild beasts
Touted "Steward of Earth" by vainglorious priests


Homo Habilis followed suit - inventing flint implements
Which at first served as tools and then later as armaments
When Cro-Magnon slew Neanderthal, clearing way for we Sapiens


Such were the days of our infancy, obscured nowadays by pretense at civility
For we're loathe to admit that we've hardly hit puberty
Believing that we scale the very peaks of humanity
Adept with legalese and the boons of technology
Yet inept in affairs that require much sympathy


Knowing naught about providence but presumptuous theology
And estranged from the blatantly obvious reality:
To venerate one's own neighbor is quintessentially holy!


The veil has been rent in the sanctum sanctorum
Little hope is there left for regaining decorum
Lo, a world midst its throes of thermal shockwave alarum!


Logos Prophorikos

Currently Reading:

Tantric Visions of the Divine Feminine: The Ten Mahavidyas

Logos Prophorikos


Humanity reveres the Image since it alone evades all-encompassing definitions of itself while still providing thoroughgoing explanations for all else.

Entire civilizations are fashioned after the cutting edge visions of prophets because they dare to dream much more vividly than the rest of us combined. 

Panoramic vistas overbrim with sheer significance
finding resonance inside the eyes of keen beholders.

Pictures in motion captivate our attention and lull our intellects
as we gradually forget that cinema shares its esprit with real life.

But then there are those rare occasions when Icon speaks from two mouths; reconciling masculine noumenon to feminine phenomenon:

Mid an eternal interplay of evanescent young idols.

A Dignified Death

Currently Reading:

The Archaic Revival: Speculations on Psychedelic Mushrooms, the Amazon, Virtual Reality, UFOs, Evolution, Shamanism, the Rebirth of the Goddess, and the End of History

A Dignified Death


Upon returning from the promised land
He took a stroll through the woods of his boyhood
Where deer tracks lay fresh within snow
Near trails hewed by blades o'er ice

Trudging down a path he'd tread many a time
His sense of direction got muddled
Though that unrecognized tract sparked intrigue
Alas, a felled pine waylaid him thereon

'twas an august old fir
Whose enormous trunk stretched
Across its coniferous domain
Younger timbers looked on in mourning . . .

Diffused through dense canopy
Solar flares slanted earthward
While chickadees darted
Overhead of anthropical bystander

Left dumbstruck with awe
His own breath rose as mist
And he drew in the smell of that passing
Heightened blood pumped blessedly then

Informed by those splendid surroundings:
"When majestic trees tumble - upright loners are called out to witness
 Because all living things, be they massive or small
 Can depart with immeasurable greatness!"

Second Syntax

Currently Reading:

Kant and the Platypus: Essays on Language and Cognition

Second Syntax

Incessant internal banter
The tower of Babel spins
Yarns strewn throughout one's ego
Like play by play commentary
In a vessel that never fills

Do not distress overly much
If broken tape throws for a loop
When perception tinges memory
Every body lets mind ramble
While understating sooth

Yet verbal thought be but a bough
Growing from the trunk of consciousness
There are countless others anyhow
Like silent knowledge (Gnosis)
Dreams, and consensual bliss

The Great Matter

The Great Matter

When the one who wrote this is gone, shall our species have gotten much further along?

We are each a brief candle, which no recounting can rekindle

Within austere walls of Zendo (meditation halls), one question above all:

What means the Great Matter of life and death for those caught in the middle?

Who has ears for the Bards of yesteryear other than those Poets now here?

Why such aversion to departure when presence itself can be torture?

Where does a soul dream if its body leaves behind mundane stream?

Will we receive otherworldly consolation or face eternal damnation?

Were scriptures reliable then perhaps planning would be viable

Without that however, each of us takes a lonesome dive into forever . . .

<b>⚕</b>

~≈~
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