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)





Bird-Tribe Incarnate

"There are many names for us. We have been called angels, Bird Tribes, higher selves, Hoksedas, spirits of the stars. The reality of what we are is more than a name can convey...

As the new information society bubbles over into global spiritual awakening, we come to join with our human egos on a scale unprecedented in all of history...

People turn once again to the Great Spirit who is the source of all information. Rapidly in some, gradually in others, our egos discover their appropriate roles in the communication of this new awareness. And there is naturally distortion at first. But in the explosion of consciousness, it is soon purified. Our spirits incarnate in ever growing numbers. Distortion diminishes. Truth spreads. And how beautiful it is!

Invite the Bird Tribes into your awareness. Make a home for eternal spirit in your heart…

The process of relaxing all thoughts that require tension to sustain them is a process of relaxing habits of the past and awakening to the reality of your own spiritual presence...

Crude primitive symbolism, these letters on a page, but a beginning. For as you sense the reality behind these words, and follow the direction of our thought, there is movement in your life. You leave the cave of history’s deceit and enter the sunlit garden that has ever been your true home..."

~ from Return of The Bird Tribes by Ken Carey.



Bird-Tribe Incarnate


Incarcerated behind biological bars.
Condemned to serve out a life sentence
Scrounging for scraps at the bottom of Abzu.

Have passed through very many times before
Since days when Enuma Elish was pressed
Into cuneiform tablets by primeval scribes.
Trying to pave a path upward from dying.

Been seen differently by each subsequent society
But always held fast to these wings
[Tattered and torn though they are
After countless confrontations].

Baptized by Inquisitor's blazes;
Perennial pariah to perceived races.
You shall know us as we leave traces
Which will bring back ALL unto gaudy graces!


Post hoc shock:

Prepare for Ascension perpetually.
Pay attention, please cease being petty.
At this rate — you may never be ready.
Abandon your nest and flap feathers against an aerial eddy ...

Image: Apkallu from Sumerian temple relief (circa 883-858 BC).

TranZonE

TranZonE


Pay heed to its TONE


The elision is lone

To illusion we're prone

These allusions — they drone.


Let's take time out then hone

What was once set in stone;

Hew right through to the bone ...


Sibylline like a crone

An unexpected cyclone

Away you've been blown!


Laggard's Lament:

The sun shone, moon had none.

Standoffish as any gang toting many a gun

Serious thinkers must lighten up and have fun.

You can't lift verse silly (no duh) it weighs a TON.


Image: Cover art for The Interzone Mantras by The Tea Party portraying the Hindu Deva Siva, dancing jovially.

Counter-Culture Failure

"And as this fake world grew, all of us went along with it, because the simplicity was reassuring. Even those who thought they were attacking the system — the radicals, the artists, the musicians, and our whole counterculture — actually became part of the trickery. Because they too had retreated into the make-believe world, which is why their opposition has no effect and nothing ever changes."

~ Adam Curtis; prologue to HyperNormalisation



Counter-Culture Failure


Artists have become complicit with the spectacular aspects of commodification. All talents are now coopted in service to capitalistic enterprise.

Fatalistic as it may sound, there isn't any chance for an effective revolution to overthrow this system ... Its roots reach too deep into the collective unconscious.

Inertial tendencies have been inculcated in us since infancy. Everybody's parents and even grandparents were ensnared long before our arrival.

The nature of the beast is that it has already assimilated any resistance to its preponderance.

Dissenting voices find themselves drowning among a cacophony of competing choruses. Yet national anthems define the terms of engagement.

Fine art is presently naught but skillful seduction; a well-polished reflector obfuscated by wispy vapor.

Its finest offerings adorn the towering edifice of traditionalist establishment. Hollywood holds sway over the untrained mind.

Glitter and glamour bedazzle beholders more than Huxley's 'Moksha-Medicine'. Banality brings spectators together, while larger than life superstars subvert their individuality.

Such impressionable peons get grinded under industrial gears set in motion to demolish public doubts:

"Keep your faith in wealthy figures, because surely they must know what's best for all involved!"

Spectre of The Spectacle

"Understood in its totality, the spectacle is both the result and the project of the dominant mode of production. It is not a mere decoration added to the real world. It is the very heart of this real society’s unreality. In all of its particular manifestations — news, propaganda, advertising, entertainment — the spectacle represents the dominant model of life. It is the omnipresent affirmation of the choices that have already been made in the sphere of production and in the consumption implied by that production. In both form and content the spectacle serves as a total justification of the conditions and goals of the existing system. The spectacle also represents the constant presence of this justification since it monopolizes the majority of the time spent outside the production process."  

~ Guy Debord; The Society of The Spectacle (1.6)



Spectre of The Spectacle


It's a whale of a tale

And it swallows us whole:

Spewing up our worst parts

During low tide on a shoal.


Lies give rise to a paradox

Lying patient in wait.

Eye spies news from FOX

Gravitas loses weight.


Yet you follow like a flunky

Lackluster as any lackey.

Roll over boy, play dead;

Butter up our daily cred.


They just cut into your jam —

Protests now won't seal the dam.

So sick and tired of this gore ...

Not going to take it anymore!


Paraphrasing (for dummies):

In every time and place throughout human history, people have been beguiled by outward appearances. Despite how much our wise ones stress that "things aren't always as they seem", the point rarely sinks in.

Never has this been truer than at present (although this is also ever the case). There is an implicit assumption that if an authority figure says something on television or Twitter then it can be taken at face value. A subconscious supposition articulated by Debord: "What is good appears. What appears is good."

Ignorance of academia, historical forces, science, statistics, etc. are running rampant because the species is held in thrall by its own fanciful projections. Entire generations have been and continue being born into this mire of delusion and deception.

Few and far between are the earnest seekers who cross-reference and research multiple sources; not merely what they like or wish to hear. Fewer still are those who recognize that our memetic machinery requires nothing short of a thoroughgoing overhaul.

May tomorrow's youth succeed in overthrowing Mammon once and for all!

INFAMOUS

INFAMOUS


"They" (you know who)

Prop you up

Just so they

Can knock you down.


Yes they'll drag

Your good name

Through the mud

And burn an effigy.


Media outlets shall

Unleash smear campaigns

To stain what was

Once thought untouchable.


Atlantean artifacts dismantled

Taken apart

Brick by brick

With grubby paws.


But have no pause,

The net trolls

Are upon us —

Push them back!


Shove elbow then fist

Combo flick of the wrist

Combat tooth and nail

Until bitter end.


This here is

The Great Tribulation

Death of a nation

Too late to pray.


There will be

No salvation

Only starvation

Plus denigration


Of social mores.

There's a fox

In the henhouse;

Let slip dogs of war ...

Makwil Cuetzpalin (rare trilingual edition)

Makwil Cuetzpalin


E aqui Tonal

(un destino propio)

El mero proposito de esta existencia.


Hoy mismo se quebrara la primer regla

Ante todas las demas:

Si no sabes cual


Pues es porque no

Investigas suficientemente;

El numero cinco ha sido y siempre sera


Gran pentametro

De nuestra quintaesencia comun —

Un nombre del hombre en exilio desde Eden.


And on the fifth stave

An immense, jet-black Aquila hatched

From gone feathered serpent's crystalline egg.


Et le lendemain soir

Il est monte au clair de lune

Apres le coucher du soleil ...


Tonatiuh bajo

Al inframundo ~ en su puesto subio otro.

Con llamas tan agudas, que hasta siegan los malvados!

[ Nahual ItzQuauhtli sembro el sexto sol ]

Day-sign Macuilli Cuetzpalin (fifth lizard) corresponds to the author's date of birth.

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