Tag Archives: Poetry

Bedtime Prayers

I’ve done a number of things as part of a regular (or, more often, irregular) spiritual practice. One thing the powers keep telling me, though, is not to try to do everything all at once. Start simple, and build on that.

This has been especially reinforced by my recent (six months or so) onset of serious arthritis in my knees and pain in my hands. There are new limits on how much activity and energy I can spend on everything, and I’m having to learn to re-balance things.

So, here’s what I do, every (mostly) night: I pray. Standing before my altars, if I can; sitting or lying comfortably, if not. It’s simple, and I stay true to the form rather than the script. The prayer is no replacement for libations and offerings and other devotions. It’s more like the divine relations equivalent of a quick coffee with friends, just to keep in touch in between parties.

Hey, don’t knock the little things, yeah? Small pushes keep the wheel spinning, once you’ve cranked it up.

Oh my powers, great gods, ancestors, spirits of the land
I thank you for sharing this life with me

You, first and foremost, Dionysos
My lord, my love, my Bakkhos
I thank you for the joy and the rage and the ecstasy you bring out in me
I thank you, and offer you the hospitality of my heart and my home

You, Lady of the Moon and Lord of Death and Resurrection,
The springs from which the Kingstone Wicca flow
I thank you for accepting me into your family
I thank you, and offer you the hospitality of my heart and my home

You, Freya and Freyr, and all the Vanir kin
I thank you for the love you have brought me
I thank you for the lessons you share with me
I thank you, and offer you the hospitality of my heart and my home

You, Baron Brav LaCroix
I thank you for standing with me in the dark
I thank you for showing me the joy in fear
I thank you, and offer you the hospitality of my heart and my home

You, Melek Ta’us, Peacock Angel
Who showed me what it was like to open and let a god inside
I thank you for the hard lessons you have taught me
I thank you, and offer you the hospitality of my heart and my home

Ron, Teri, Merrill, Sanford, Virginia, Thelma, Alvis, Ruth
And all my ancestors of blood, and my ancestors of spirit
You who walked this Earth before me, and made my way easier thereby
You heroes and Mighty Dead
All you who left this world to me
I owe you a debt, and pay it to our mutual posterity
I thank you, and offer you the hospitality of my heart and my home

You spirits of Earth, Sea, and Sky
Spirits of the mountains and valleys, the fill and the wetlands
Spirits of creek and river and delta and the bay and the ocean
Spirits of sky and wind and fog and rain and the myriad lights of the heavens
All you who make and maintain the world
Thank you for allowing me to live within you.
I thank you, and offer you the hospitality of my heart and my home

Thank you, gods and powers
Thank you, and goodnight


David Bowie is Dead

One more leaves the sunlit lands
One more feasts in the hall of the ancestors
David Bowie is dead

I remember riding the bus with Ziggy
I remember dancing with the Diamond Dogs
And sometimes, I’m afraid of Americans, too

I remember his voice, his song
I remember hearing the stories he told
And seeing a queer man celebrated

I heard Dionysos in his music
I saw Melek Ta’us in his eyes
And found joy in his songs of darkness and disgrace

His music felt like home
His words spoke to my dreams

Awake, Mighty Dead, open the doors of your halls
Tonight you will have song and love
For David Bowie has left the sunlit lands


Give Thanks to Our Mighty Dead

As we progress through National Drunk People Blow Shit Up day, I’d like to take a moment to thank our ancestors who helped make this country what it is today. For good or ill.

Praise and thanks to the Mighty Dead
To all those who walked these ways before us
And made our road easier thereby
Ancestors of blood and bone; Ancestors of spirit
We remember you

We remember you,
Who lived in this land before Columbus, before Jamestown
Those who fought, who were murdered, displaced, betrayed
We beg your forgiveness, but not your forgetfulness
We beg your guidance into better, more just days

We remember you,
Who came to these shores in chains, survivors of the middle passage
Those who worked, who suffered, who died in bondage
We beg your forgiveness, but not your forgetfulness
We beg your guidance into better, more just days

We remember you,
Who built and taught and fought and died, our Founding Fathers and Mothers
Those who set our nation on its path, as best you could
We beg your forgiveness, but not your forgetfulness
We beg your guidance into better, more just days

We remember you,
Who carried on the legacy, who fought and struggled and built this nation
Those who struggled with the blood and the sin and the glory they inherited
We beg your forgiveness, but not your forgetfulness
We beg your guidance into better, more just days

We remember you,
Who learned from the past, from whom we might learn
Those generations from the first to walk this land to the one just passed
We beg your forgiveness, but not your forgetfulness
We beg your guidance into better, more just days

Praise and thanks to the Mighty Dead
To all those who walked these ways before us
And made our road easier thereby
Ancestors of blood and bone; Ancestors of spirit
We remember you.


Melek Ta’us: Who?

A Month of Written Devotion for Melek Ta’us, the Peacock Angel. Published just a little bit late.

When God created Humanity, God ordered the angels to bow before the new beings. Glory to the new chosen, glory to the heirs of God.

Melek Ta’us, proud first son of God, first among angels, would not bow before the new beings. Glory unto God, Glory only unto God.

When God heard this, God was angry, and God gave proud Melek one chance to repent. Still the angel would not bow, and so God created Hell. Still the angel would not bow, and so God cast Melek Ta’us into Hell.

Alone in Hell, the Peacock Angel wept. For seven thousand years, alone in hell, the Peacock Angel wept.

The first thousand years, Melek Ta’us wept for himself. He wept for his pain, for the loss of God. He wept for his shame, that God would choose to exalt humanity and punish his first and most glorious son.

The Tears of the Peacock Angel, the first angel, filled and flooded Hell, and doused the fires of the pit. But the fires rose anew.

The second thousand years, Melek Ta’us wept, pleading to God for forgiveness. He wept, and promised to bow before humanity, if that was what God demanded.

The Tears of the Peacock Angel, the first angel, filled and flooded Hell, and doused the fires of the pit. But the fires rose anew.

The third thousand years, Melek Ta’us wept for God’s pain. He wept, for he realized the pain he had caused God for the sake of his pride.

The Tears of the Peacock Angel, the first angel, filled and flooded Hell, and doused the fires of the pit. But the fires rose anew.

The fourth thousand years, Melek Ta’us wept for Heaven. He wept for his empty throne, he wept for his work undone, he wept for his empty corner of the sky.

The Tears of the Peacock Angel, the first angel, filled and flooded Hell, and doused the fires of the pit. But the fires rose anew.

The fifth thousand years, Melek Ta’us wept for Earth. He wept for the flowers fading in autumn, he wept for the beasts that died to feed others.

The Tears of the Peacock Angel, the first angel, filled and flooded Hell, and doused the fires of the pit. But the fires rose anew.

The sixth thousand years, Melek Ta’us wept for Humanity’s pain. He wept for their sickness, he wept for their deaths, he wept for the pain they would give one another.

The Tears of the Peacock Angel, the first angel, filled and flooded Hell, and doused the fires of the pit. But the fires rose anew.

The seventh thousand years, Melek Ta’us wept for Humanity’s promise. He wept for the seed of glory inside humanity, he wept for the beauty of the human soul.

Melek Ta’us wept in joy.

The Tears of the Peacock Angel, the first angel, filled and flooded Hell, and doused the fires of the pit. The tears of Melek Ta’us broke the walls of Hell, and the fires died for ever.

God saw the blue-skinned, gorgeous Peacock Angel born anew from fire and flood, and apointed him the leader of the seven angels who would protect and nurture the world.

God saw the blue-skinned, gorgeous Peacock Angel born anew from fire and flood, and apointed him the special guardian and teacher of Humanity.

And God withdrew from the Earth, leaving it to the angels.

And Melek Ta’us looked out across the Earth, and saw Humanity rising in all its varied sexes and genders and colors, and heard Humanity singing in all its languages, dancing in all its homes on the Earth.

And Melek Ta’us loved what he saw.

And Melek Ta’us said to Humanity, Oh my dear children, sons and daughters, brothers and sisters. Oh my beloved, what beauty you will know, what lessons you will learn.

It’s a pity so much of it will have to be learned the hard way.

—–

Ember’s doing it, too: Who Is She?


For Today’s Same-Sex Marriage Ruling

Rejoice

by darkaeigis

Rejoice with me children of Dionysus

Sing with Eluthereus in celebration

Passivity no more

The oppressed refuse to be

Raging, we cast aside shackles placed upon us

Permission to love we never needed

To demand such, that is the sin

Today we fly with Dionysus Psilax

Eat, Drink and Marry


“Eluthereus” is a name of Dionysos, meaning “Deliverer, Liberator.”
“Psilax” is a cult name of Dionysos, meaning (rouglhy) “who lifts us up.”


Mr. Crimson Speaks to the Youth of Today!

More poetry, this time from an old friend from college, Joshua Neff, Action Librarian. This piece originally appeared on his blog, Goblin Cartoons.

It speaks to me of personal revolution, which strikes me as a very Dionysian thing.

Mr. Crimson Speaks to the Youth of Today!

wage your war on the streets
& wear sapphires on your feet
& disassemble your beliefs
& give aid to their relief
& exhaust your chocolate treats
& let loose your funky beats
& wear opals on your feet
& retake the gentrified streets
& overthrow the richest thief
& reassemble your beliefs
& let your dreams be incomplete
& never let your friends be beat
& don’t be salty when you’re sweet
& make our wars grow obsolete


A Wild God

Over on tumblr, amaskofivy shared this, and I thought I’d share it (with permission) with all of you.

A Wild God
A wild god grants no wishes, but miracles spill from his lips; thick and crude and unpolished words that snap and bite at your ankles. And so do your footfalls cause the earth to tremble, for his gifts are not for receiving. A wild god’s blessings receive you.

He eats the flesh raw. A wild god carves no arrows, strings no bows, crafts no swords or axes. He scoops you from the river and sinks his teeth into you as you squirm, tender flesh giving way to the mouth that bloodies itself with doubt and hesitation and tremors of the mind. He deals in terror, takes fear in exchange for a glass of wine.

A wild god dwells in temples, sleeps on marble floors and wakes in the night for the hedonists that chant his name, singing Io, Io, Io! He slips into the crowd to mark the ground with footsteps and spittle and semen, chanting Io, Io, Io! What glorious decadence! What beautiful debauchery ensues on the mountainside.

A wild god ruins parties with the shades of lessons unlearned, entering cracks in the mind and festering, bringing forth memories of agony and aches and falling apart. A wild god makes walls when you run from ghosts, and smiles as you fall to your knees in tears.

For a wild god grants no wishes, but miracles fall from his palms; smoldering like charcoal and lighting little fires to keep you warm in the night as you learn to make your own. Up and up and up they rise, and the flames seem a beacon of hope.

A wild god raises the ground you stand on and whispers “Io.”


Intellect & Romance

Musings on the Stories We Tell

The Dionysian Artist

Δ, Τέχνη, Λόγος, Λέξις

riverdevora

Spiritual ramblings of a polytheist nature

Tales of the Fox

Musings and Magic From a Silicon Valley Witch

Dany's Blog

In which the blogger rambles about art, Supernatural, and other random junk.

The Green Wolf

Artist & Author Lupa

Pagan Church Lady

How Conveeeeenient!

Walking the Worlds

a biannual journal of polytheism and spiritwork

The Boukoleon

Where the Starry Bull thiasos gathers

Magick From Scratch

Breaking down mystical practice and crafting new ritual tech from primary source texts.

Banshee Arts

Words for the God of Ecstasy

T. Thorn Coyle

Magic. Stories. Justice. Love.

The Green Wolf

Words for the God of Ecstasy