Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘metaphysics’

Arched (Part 6)

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 31, 2013| 11 Comments »

clasped1

ARCHED (part 6)

Footfalls,
Echoed whispers.

Slow light
Pools.

Names
Fading slowly.

—-

light2

A thin, cool shell.
A golden cup
For space.

Earth wells up,
Slow bubbled bliss
Under flags and brass.

Carapace,
Remnant, skull.

Outline echoing
Slain god outstretched
(still dreaming),
Vines growing
Through splayed fingers,
Fingers growing into mountains.

Eyes full of light
Coruscating, kaleidoscoping,
A replaying of memory
And sound.

Illumination of dark corners,
Interface and intersection,
Cavity.

Heart
Evaporated:
Chambers
Of song.

—-
quattrefoil screen

Stone’s song:
We, eloquent in edge,
Tumbling meaning,
Disguised as the living,
Guiding, naming,
Numbering the dead.

A condensation of merit
And tears, and beating blood.
A lithophone, an organ
For reverberation.
A song for endless sleep,
A cradle for dream.
An approximate eternity,
Outwearing centuries.

roof bosses1

wormwood and bay2

Read Full Post »

Arched (part 3)

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 25, 2013| 2 Comments »

caverned1

ARCHED (part3)

The bardo of entrances.
Intermediate transitions,
One spliced into the other,
Time and space elapsing.

A slow cool outbreath of stone.
It requires a recalibration,
A rearrangement of the senses.

Slowing,
Time is tamped down
In dusty layers,
Glistening.

An inhalation
Of fractured light,
Absorbed, solidified.

Entering the cave of God:
His ribs, grey skin tight,
Desiccated, stretched out.
Pinned, hammered, sheltered.

We are slowly digested,
( the enzymes of faith),
Becoming less, and more,
Of ourselves-
Becoming one of the waiting.

Slow and turning
From cave
To cave,
( the frozen forests whispering
Chiseled curve and keel ),
A reconstruction of gravity.

Tree roots sky conjoined,
Arched, steepled.
Leaves, gold,
Fruits rotten,
Drift weightless, upwards,
Food for avaricious
Angels.

An embroidery of whispers
An evolution of sorrow,
A still heaven
Waiting for a new
Eternity.

looking west

pierced light3

pierced light5

Read Full Post »

Voices From White Noise ( a dream stream)

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , on June 6, 2013| 4 Comments »

VOICES FROM WHITE NOISE ( a dream stream)

I have tuned my ears towards the voice and must try to narrate, to corner sense, 
scribbling 
urgent message 
mind map 
message 
wittering.
I have heard the ravings of the cellared recidivist, the relentless, insistent heretic.
I have chosen,on a whim, to sit next to the glassy stared lunatic on the bus, the Ancient Mariner, and must bend and blow in that breeze.

There is a thread, 
a whisper, a word 
that travels through our dreams. 
Something that remains, that delicately holds on. 
How long does an idea flicker and burn in darkness before it expires? 
(The sigh of acquiesced defeat.)

Deceit is freely given, not asked for, cajoling. Truth must be asked for, urgently, earnestly sought. Why? Truth cannot be weighed out, patted neat and square like butter, wrapped and satisfactory. Truth does not fare well as a commodity. It is a map from only where you are, only from that place, whispered to you alone. Not one great instruction for all. Only madmen rave about universal truths. Each truth is an apple. Each the most round, succulent sweetness produces a thousand seeds all different: some soft, some bitter, some long-lasting, some fragrant. And no one can tell which might be which but by time and patience and the eventual taste of it.

So some of us wake to our dreams, 
scribble in the dark urged to construct, 
to record, 
to remember whispers. 
A reconstruction of echoes.

If I should continue long enough, listen, mould, worry it, then shall it eventually run true, discordant chaos becoming rejoicing refrain, voices emerging from the white noise. The mandala will become populated, the statues shall speak, the mirror offer wise advice, sound reflection….

It fails, it falters with daylight.
What was clear, insistent, cogent,
Pales and hollows.
Dismiss the howls, the complaints,
The sequences that seemed fair.
Tuned out, they rant in another quadrant
Of time and space, stiffled by yawns,
Inconsistent with birdsong.
The Furies, the Oracles,
Sinking slowly
To darker depths,
Slipping,
Spiral-wise,
Melodramatic
Monologues,
Mouths filling
With sifting sands….

——-

Read Full Post »

STRUNG OUT

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on April 30, 2013| 3 Comments »

20130430-100447.jpg

****

STRUNG OUT ( a bereft history of every sing)

In the beginning,
The worm word:
Strung thin sound.
Hesitant, looped
Monochord.
Free:
As much as it wanted,
Tied:
Either end an anchor
Of some
it
or other.

Simple,
Soon tangled
( darned attraction
Of molecular
soup).

A good idea
Scribbled over.
Attempts at,
Forgetful of.

Seriously playful,
Now only
Serious, panicked
Lost, mazed
Trapped
Traipsing time
Tired
But unable to
Prevent
Echo, mutter,
Wild laughter.

Self portait-
The void black
Reflection
Dilated pupils
Staring, straining
Into space.

Midnight skitters,
Meaning pretends
Itself.
Vocal chord,
Knotted, node,
A gap between
Wuh, wuh, words.

****

something to do with the primacy of sound, language, self-referencing mixed in with cosmogenesis, DNA as a jam session ( that slick four-piece polyrhythmic jive), a quote from Robert Musil, via N. Filbert ( jump starter of my brain). Souped up silence, those seers who strive beyond language, return from heaven stumbling and drunk, stutt, tut, tutter. I place on the tip of my tongue a consonant of fire, a vowel of air, extinguished by a sliver of spittle, mistakenly taken as a reason, a viewpoint, what is only a howl of sound, a pushchaired child hooting for echoes in cavern subways….

20130430-100523.jpg

the images are some sketches of the seed syllable ‘hung’, one of the three primal sounds of manifesting mind that may or may not become paint or silver or more words at some point

Read Full Post »

Untouched

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on March 14, 2013| 5 Comments »

UNTOUCHED

We do not make our own reality, nor the reality of others, nor the dream of reality, nor the wish of reality. We glance off the Real as light off metal, as wind off ice. At best we taste an edge. Then enfold upon ourselves to fill the void. Pretty shards of sight woven to inhabit a world. Sonorous thoughts woven to withstand irrelevance. Needle-slight, this point of view.
A compass of stuttering,
an occassional brilliance,
a stroboscope,
a fabric of simultaneous equations.
Erasing one world, one instant gone, recreating one world. Shiva blinks, eternity ends. The Ladder of Being, the descent of doves to the chasms of fire. A riverbed of laughter tells me what is my nature. This not this. Now not now. Never, not never. The tune, that one extraordinary tune, the perfect sequence, secret to all things, sweet and haunted, is a candle in a still cavern of dream.
Sung and forgotten,
sung and forgotten,
each note sung and forgotten.
Memory is not the answer, but memory is a clue. Will it can it shall it free us?
One word held, a flower reached for, a line that becomes straight, a point between the pointless, a key, a way out or a way in. Chained, owned, here we belong. Nothing to do but build and destroy, forget, forget. The thirteen classes of beings, the ten thousand things, the aeons and elements stand aghast, amazed:
the song of this stream,
the rippling of the sight of it,
the rainbow surface, the dazzling light.
Best song of the singer of all, golden chains to our tongues. The oracle speaks clouds of nonsense, vapours and dust. It follows its own nature. Sun and moon. The fifth day it shall return. Look to the north, the wild birds dance, the sight shall become a sound. Everything will be accomplished.
Vapour trails,
name of one writ in water.
Forgetting is the clue.
Do not forget it. Never forget it.
Forged, iron, still,
now the thing that never was, is,
and now, not.
Capture this sound –
it becomes silence.
Hold on, hold on
and it will be lost forever.
To say all things simultaneously, one chord, bringing all edges together. Eleven or thirteen dimensions. Constant is the speed of stillness. Nothing illuminating nothing. It illuminates surfaces once it arrives without moving. Constant speed of light. All sound, a commentary on the nature of silence.
A river in heaven,
Heaven’s river,
Way of milk,
Road of stars.
Looking in, looking down, looking out.
Hunters and hunted on circular paths.
Vindicated, never meeting.
Untouched is the Way.
Untrod by any shoe.
Unsigned.
Forgotten.

20130314-230415.jpg

Read Full Post »

yantra

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , on March 9, 2013| 3 Comments »

YANTRA

It is not is
It is not was
And neither
Is it will be.
A thrum throughout.
Wrapped, webbed, unstruck.
Root note casting out
Harmonic creation
That we are.
One chord excluding nothing;
One name with all sounds;
All faces, all gestures,
All wonderings,
All worlds.
Whatever sound you choose,
That is it.
Whatever name,
That is it.
Whatever explanation,
That is it.
Whatever denial,
That is it.
Her tongue
Wrapped around your tongue.
Her eyes
Through your mirrored eyes.
Of no form,
With no preference,
An orifice of taste,
A groan of delight.

Read Full Post »

One Wish, One Blessing

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on February 24, 2013| 2 Comments »

20130224-223320.jpg

ONE WISH, ONE BLESSING

If there were one wish offered
Then it would be this,
And if the power I had
To bless were certain,
This would it be also:
To die happy.

A simple thing,
A strange reminding
Of ends and farewells,
But think:

A happy death.
No fear nor overshadowing,
Free from uncertain doubt,
No buried regret, no guilt,
No aching yearning,
Nothing unresolved,
Nothing left undone.
Complete, completed, content.
Relaxed, ready, rested
To stay or move on.

A simple thing
So few have found.
It cannot be taught,
It cannot be contrived,
It cannot be hesitant.
One moment
Never to be missed.
Inevitable, certain,
Nothing more owned,
That fracturing of thought,
That clarity so long put off,
End of all tomorrows.

I would wish you
A happy death.
May we all be blessed
A happy death.

A life filled
And glorious,
Radiant
With all emotion.
Tasted, consumed,
A banquet
Sharp and honey-sweet.
Poised,
Skilled,
Generous and gentle.
Worn well
But lightly,
Not hoarded nor wasted.

Loved, lived, left.
Nothing else
Would so suit
A perfect world,
As this is,
But to do so.
A wish.
A blessing.
Die happy.

20130224-223647.jpg

Read Full Post »

“Moonlight Through Glass”

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 22, 2013| 7 Comments »

Moonlight cover2

My first collection of poems is now available from Smashwords.( http://www.smashwords.com ) it contains one hundred and eleven poems compiled from my first year’s blogging, up until December 2012. This is my first attempt at e.publishing, and as far as I can see it seems ok – looks really nice on Kindle.
If you would like to take a look you can download the first twenty percent of the text for no charge. Price to download the whole caboodle is $6.99 (apparently there are 13,910 words, most of them in the right order! In a little while we should also have the book as a downloadable pdf available from http://www.treeseer.com

“This is the first published collection of poetry from Simon H. Lilly, an artist and lecturer who is also an established writer on esoteric healing. The majority of the works are from the last two years, with a selection of earlier poems spanning four decades. There are over a hundred poems, from short, haiku-style pieces to longer performance texts and epic narratives. The landscape of the changing seasons is often the backdrop upon which the nature of mind, awareness and reality is explored. His poetic influences are the spiritual landscapes evoked by Classical Chinese and Japanese poets, the rhythms and word-play of Old English charms and spells, and the wistful lilt and muscle of the Celtic bardic traditions, particularly the contemporary Scottish Gaelic masters.
Rich language, sometimes dense, sometimes light, always looking to recreate an instant within memory, a picture in words. Quiet, contemplative, but never sentimental, he describes these poems as “flocks of thoughts watched from a quiet distance”.”

Next project (when I’ve fully recovered) will be to publish “The House of Trees: a poem of thirteen parts.” and then maybe a volume with a mixture of word and image (a lot more unpredictable in how it will work on different reading platforms, though I believe).

Read Full Post »

Goddess of Great Time (Mahakali)

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 15, 2013| 4 Comments »

GODDESS OF GREAT TIME (Mahakali)

Time,
Great Time,
Not the small time that wriggles,
That evaporates, that divides,
Slows, quickens, dissolves matter,
Nor crumbles the certain little boundaries.
Not the time of long ago,
Nor the time of memory-
Not the rope and web
Or stories that buoy up why and why not.

Great Time,
that remains.
Great Time,
the horror and remorseless.
Great Time
where any silence
Would be excessive demonstration,
Where qualities, incoherent irrelevance.

From outside,
(that mistaken myth of outside),
It is a wall of annihilation
Void of edge and shade
A denial of everything.
Senseless, unable to be apprehended.

From inside
Great Time sustains itself in itself,
A round vowel of circular breath
With no flow nor any sound.
Before
and between name.
Before
and between space.
Before
and between desire.
Before
and between despair.

Looking for Great Time
Here or here,
Looking for its dark matter,
Looking for its dark space,
Looking for the reason, the cause,
The origin, the point of entry:
Weighing shadows, calibrating the edge.

Her necklace,
A string of heads, lolling, vacuous.
Take it as a clue, sir.
Great Time will deny the slyest philosopher,
The most particular investigation,
Will eat the reasons why,
Will collapse the measurement.

On the tip of that red tongue
Dancing, tingling,
Feeling without saying,
Lost ullulation, glossolalia,
Speaking in tongues, hanging,
Screaming.

Do not wish on yourself
The nightmare of never.
Do not break that fine, thin porcelain,
Genteel mind, translucent void.
Between, before, beyond.

Great Time:
Where you are not looking,
The smallest omission,
The inevitable victory
Of the insignificant.
Aeons and galaxies
Are its shadow,
Its laughter.

Read Full Post »

Dark Matter, Dark Mother.

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 8, 2013| 5 Comments »

DarkMatterDarkMother1

The white noise of the next universe,
the white noise of the last,
muttered thoughts,
scratched messages,
attempts to sustain the unsustainable:
the instant of now,
pinned to a dead language,
thought too big for itself, hot air,
black hole,
white noise,
verse reverse obverse,
the other side where new DNA coagulates
upon the small gravities of emotive,
speculative,
evolving sound.

New chapters,
Same old plot:
Re
Ink
Are
Nation.

Reeling
Our
Nature
In.

Searching,
Now,
For dark matter,
Dark mother,
Black madonna,
Our ground,
Encaved source,
Engraved
Engrossed
Entwined
Dust doth wish,
Washed white
Bright as suns,
Daughters
Of dear death.

Return to
Sender.
Raven,
Dove,
Alighted,
Alight upon
Cerebral tree.

( a mirroring of thoughts by retconpoet, Nicholas Gagnier)

DarkMatterDarkMother2

These are a few images from a new art project based around words and ideas sparked by the Mahavidyas. I was just going to put a few up by themselves, but then came across these words I wrote recently in response to a blog post. Of course add to this the new search for dark matter in a lab one mile beneath the Italian Alps and there is a constellation of Alchemical midwifery going on….mutter,matter,mother,matrix.

DarkMatterDarkMother3

Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts - Older Posts »