Obsidian Eagle's Blasphemous Bazaar - META-Poems For A New Millennium


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<br>Eon Eagle - Herald of Quetzalcoatl<br><br>

The Flagship of AntiPoetry — est. 2010





Bodhisattva Curse

Currently Reading:

The Crack in the Cosmic Egg: New Constructs of Mind and Reality



Author's Note: Some hard-liners may take this poem's title too seriously but it's rather tongue-in-cheek, since Bodhisattvas are elevated beings who give everyone else inexhaustible compassion and are hence incapable of pronouncing such curses. However, true Tantrikas balance on either edge of truth's sword.



Bodhisattva Curse


Gullible little automatons,
rolled fresh off an assembly line
with one billion more behind . . .

You will wander all six Bardos until this universe collapses
and be among the last sentients to cross the ocean of conditional existence
unto supreme Parinirvana.

Dream lives of untold sorrow and shame
First memory at the end and final memory in the beginning
Moebius, Ouroboros,
Tabula Rasa and Eternal Recurrence
Deja-vu
Astral Projection
False Awakenings

Death and Rebirth everlasting.

Reverberate toward Stillness — or you simply wont stand a chance!

Image: Yamantaka Yidam (signifying the victory of wisdom over death, evil and suffering).

Un Lourd Secret by Guest Bard Sunil Narayan



Writer's Bio: Sunil Narayan's work has been a long, enriching journey that absorbed the world's eccentricities to create a masterpiece of color, surrealism and human sentiment. The past two years witnessed a climatic moment in which his writing churned out many emotion-inducing poems. It is his intent to help people access feelings that they rarely get to experience.

This is the third part of three in a running series during February.



Un Lourd Secret


Mdvanii spoke to her brushed chienne when he
whimpered at the sight of a still empty bowl: “Il est
toujours par voie de douleur que l'on arrive à plaisir”
To be given grapes and bread is a reward not a
privilege
One must starve for as long as his master deems fit
Mdvanii is the master of all couturiers!

Her coiled black whip is made from the skin of
deceased orphans
Oiled each day by her esclave’s sweat
It shines under the dusty ceiling light
With one lash she frightens her shivering putain

Aldric begs for a lengthy bruising by the chipped
paddle
Unfortunately, Mdvanii will not relax her firm hold
on his body this time
She is in control of the narcissistic esclave’s ego
Its skin is punctured by the heels of her ruby-studded
shoes
 
A few nights ago it dawned on her: great pleasure can
be achieved if one walks all over this vermin’s chest
Ripping bits off the skin with her glue-covered red
heels  
He will scream as a torrent of blood flows down his
chest
A poor old German seamster being forced to endure
heightened torture!

Dragged by his owner across the muddy floorboards
Aldric’s hair is pulled harder with each grunt
The scalp rips off an unwashed head every time!
Mdvanii reminds him a good designer never succumbs
to arrogance: afin de connaître la vertu,
nous devons d'abord nous familiariser avec le vice   

The room is made out of solid steel to keep the crying
of a belittling artist sealed
                                                                     
It is un prostitué’s screams of enlarged pleasure
drowning out the neighbor dogs’ barking
Mdvanii puts cotton balls in her ears when the nipples
of her fat cochon are stretched to the waist by two short
chains with unpolished hooks
This toy is attached to a block of cement stained covered
with his tears

Aldric cleans dirt off the floor with his tongue, exposing
his scarred derrière
His chest swells and dries till skin sags from the bones  
A pêche freshly picked from the nobleman’s garden
becomes mushy right before the farmer’s eyes
Perhaps Mdvanii is a domestique, tilling the soil of
centuries worth of bitter pride

It must be broken and put back together so the world
will lower their heads in respect
Flaming torches shall no longer melt the king’s palace!
Instead, they will turn on the noblemen for betraying
their loyal domestiques!
Preaching of false notions for an ideal reality

A calm muse sits in her chair to read a newspaper on
politics
She is interested in the behavior of noble rulers and
tyrants
To her their power lay in the twisting and beautifying
of the people
Everyone becomes a victim of another person’s ignorant
mind or the partaker in the fruits of carefully constructed
labor

It is a world so tightly wound yet absorbing all the
sweets and stale bread one can get their hands on
Functioning as a monstrous machine with oil flowing
from one end of the pipe to the other
Devouring the human essence as if it were un gâteau
aux fraises
A field covered in white balls of joy disappear with
each grab: l'ordre social au détriment de la liberté n'est
guère une bonne affaire

Our dear Antonia tortured by self-destructive authority

A poor Austrian girl who simply wanted to fit in
No one could stand looking at the images of her dressed
luxuriously like Déesse Vénus
She was a symbol of unfiltered disgust

The clock struck midnight and Mdvanii must retire to
her opal chamber
She bids goodnight to Déesse Diane for her friend
Remains hushed when the screams of Aldric fill
fill the foggy streets of Paris
He finally falls asleep despite having not been fed
scraps of old sandwiches

Our grande dame never tires herself of debasing elite
couturiers
She is a humbled secret covered in diamond dresses
Only those with greedy claws can unveil the violent
nature of a cursed muse
If they are daring enough to rip her skin off that is!

Nearly a century ago, her dominating Charles died
leaving her empty of satisfaction
He taught her to be quiet and grateful for his kindness
In her heart she always yearned for the excitement all
women experience when visiting a new boutique de
marque: lecteurs sensual excédentaire pitié chez
l'homme
It is the only jewel she held onto during her escape
when he lost himself in glasses of bière

Mdvanii begin to hop from couturier to couturier, noticing
the chic girls were too involved in their looks
Their blue purses and fur-coats were the new trend of
Paris
Decades ago, all of a sudden a rainbow splashed the
imagination
Everyone had to own velvet gloves with gold sewn
into the edges or shoes adorned with a diamond rose
on the front

Mdvanii sighed in disappointment at how obsessed
the city became with her new lover’s collections
There is more to life than luscious garments or jewelry
made of black pearls

By nature, it is her duty to dissolve the extravagant
culture imprisoning the wealthy people of Paris
The pain seamsters both grande and petit experienced
in the beginning is incomparable to the mutilation in
the end

She witnessed generations of couturiers indulge in
yards of bright fabrics made of crushed gemstones
for the sake of it
Smiling as domestiques dress them in silk and satin
when their money could be used to feed the starving
children
The artists of Paris no longer remember their simple
childhoods
For they excitedly jumped into the river of fame: 

ce n'est pas mon mode de pensée qui a causé mon malheur, mais le mode de pensée des autres

 Mdvanii is a registered trademarked and copyright 2010 by BillyBoy*. It is used with permission from BillyBoy* & Lala

A Swan Who Wallows In Lotus Laden Ponds by Guest Bard Sunil Narayan




Writer's Bio: Sunil Narayan's work has been a long, enriching journey that absorbed the world's eccentricities to create a masterpiece of color, surrealism and human sentiment. The past two years witnessed a climatic moment in which his writing churned out many emotion-inducing poems. It is his intent to help people access feelings that they rarely get to experience.

This is the second part of three in a running series for February.

 


A Swan Who Wallows In Lotus Laden Ponds by Guest Bard Sunil Narayan


She walks into the banquet room of the Château de Versailles feeling out of place
Such a refined lady with skin as soft as a doe’s coat
Pearls that dangle above her swan-like neck
Eyes so tranquil, flutter like butterflies in a garden

A woman who floats from room to room unaware of everyone’s presence


They look into those lotus petal shaped eyes to see a secret world
Gardens stretching for miles fill the air with the scent of roses 
Uṣás-Devī cannot help but inhale this sweet perfume

Radiant marigolds bask in the Sun’s warmth
Jasmine trees stand tall to give shade for all of Pṛthivī’s critters
 

They lay at the base sighing for amour had consumed them
A gazelle who once nestled at the feet of Pṛthivī-Devī is now an elegant lady

Yes! Suraiyā is the child of Pṛthivī-Devī
Her hands decorated in emerald rings have fingers that flow like the Gangā
So pure and gentle men have followed her around the world just to be caressed by those fingers
They are savages who have succumbed to the feminine power of an untainted goddess

 

Yet, why does she not look at these men?
At the far end of the room gourmet Indian dishes line up a long glass table
An aroma of mixed spices travels through the air
Men who smell it divert their eyes to Suraiyā

She stands before the table delighted by such a sumptuous feast
Her hands move towards the glass spoon dipped in the dāl bowl
 

Ashamed by bad manners Suraiyā pulls her hand back
The host who has been seduced by Suraiyā’s beauty tells her it is quite alright

A smile transforms Suraiyā’s face like Uṣás-Devī bathing the world in light
Those eyes of her enchants the host, bringing him to his knees
His heart grew ten times with each pulse sighing in joy
 

A goddess has locked eyes with a humble king
An elegant lady created in the nest of the Pṛthivī-Devī looks into the eyes of many
The pain, the happiness, the frustration, the excitement, the joy!
These emotions are the colors in her gardens

And all men, women and children have their own inner gardens

Suraiyā’s lotus-petal eyes see the world’s inner beauty permeating all things
 

Even the Sky, an ocean for the Devás, is a jewel created by Pṛthivī-Devī!
Suraiyā’s śāṭī is fashioned from the Devás’ water
A long train from her shoulders floats above the floor as she walks around the room

All guests spend hours watching Suraiyā create a stream with her śāṭī


The scent of lilacs flows from the fabric into their noses
Śakra-Devá’s  heaven cannot compare to the moment they are lost in!
A rarity in this world is locked away for centuries but comes out when humanity
has submerged in harmonious bliss

Mdvanii Stirs Her Lover’s Desire! by Guest Bard Sunil Narayan



Writer's Bio: Sunil Narayan's work has been a long, enriching journey that absorbed the world's eccentricities to create a masterpiece of color, surrealism and human sentiment. The past two years witnessed a climatic moment in which his writing churned out many emotion-inducing poems. It is his intent to help people access feelings that they rarely get to experience.

This is the first part of three in a running series for February.



Mdvanii Stirs Her Lover’s Desire!


The designers of Paris say Mdvanii is an immortal muse who lives in the heart of every artist
From her chair she imparts ideas to a grand couturier expecting nothing in return
Sitting on a silk seat containing the feathers of Zeús’eagle
The legs made from the crushed material of diamonds
 
She sees her master in all directions, a large man standing proudly
Yet, is trapped in a luxurious home with no one to keep her company
How can an emotional lady survive this arduous life?
Her enlarged heart and sophisticated walk enchanted the socialites of the city

Now, the reality of Mdvanii is a preserved muse for a demanding couturier
She looks upwards to see lust and creativity colliding
From such a powerful fight pearls strung with gold fall into her hands
A meager compensation for a sumptuous lady!

She sighs before changing into her evening dress
The spring season once blossomed like her marigolds
Surprising all who lounged at the saloons 
As if Gaïa was splashed with the color of the forest trees!

In the corner of her room a closet with shelves perfectly lined with
shoes made from colors of the rainbow
Pink, blue, red, orange and yellow!
Each day she picks a pair to match her silk gloves
A string of pearls to tie around her waist, gold bracelets to place on her light wrists, and moonstone pins to hold her thick hair in a chignon

A refined lady has choices, choices and choices!
Twenty evening dresses made for the Queen of Norway hang from the hooks
They’re waterfalls of creamy colors from the Amazon jungles
For each one gold thread was sewn into the fabric to form a blossoming magnolia

As she puts on her heels Charles wraps a silk shawl made of crushed rose quartz
around her supple body
He adorns her smooth neck with a ruby necklace so long it rests between her breasts
She barely notices this sweet gesture while applying pink blush
Her eyes in the shape of the waning Selēnē are lost in serenity

A man who drinks to squash his guilt must continue to lavish his goddess with pieces befitting the Queen of the Universe!
Gemstones smuggled from India are crushed into light powder
He sprinkles it onto white strips of cloth then smoothes it out 
Although, a doubt pricks his mind, making him feel guilty for doing a cruel deed

His clients knock on the rotting door of his studio demanding their garments
Charles shoos them away as if they are wandering beggars
His mind fixated on a refined woman entrapped in his heart
He gives her potent lust to taste yet Mdvanii rejects it

What seems to be the magnificence of couturier is in fact Mdvanii!
She runs along his arms tickling him
With one hand the resplendent muse blows blue petals into his mind
To her surprise the wind snatches her white hat snickering in delight

Mdvanii’s eyes turn red with bubbling anger 
She’s a cat ready to pounce a taunting mouse!
On his sewing table a large red gemstone manifests
Cut in the shape of a tulip, its sharp edge is hardly noticeable
Passion gives it color for which Charles fixates on

He rubs the edge unaware of blood sliding down the treasure
Mdvanii plays her games without giving a reason
She is a muse of few words but her actions have a language of their own
Charles will never see her inner world for he was devoured by his own


Mdvanii is a registered trademarked and copyright 2010 by BillyBoy*. It is used with permission from BillyBoy* & Lala

~≈~≈~≈~

© 2010-2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

* Except on Wall of Worthies
whereon rights are retained by respective authors.