thresholds & doorways
libramoon's Observatory (blog)
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I would love to discuss speculative fiction and occult topics
Seers and Seekers
Hi I'm libramoon, poet for hire or collaboration. Creator of Cosmik Poetry - Poetic Interpretations of Astrological Charts;
inspirational words, rituals, ceremonies, lyrics and poems custom created for all occasions
"Who Are You?" - Life Issue Astrological Counseling
Gilbert Williams mystic art link
current cosmic poem
Holistic Therapy Consulting
(I websurf, therefore I am)
I am also seeking visual artists for possible collaborations
Want to know more? Please e-mail me at: email@example.com
(I would be happy to email you poems from time to time)
Go forth in infinite beauty and wonder
Go forth into the magic of multi-layered possibilities
Go forth into the future you choose to create
May this new millennium usher in the golden age of peace.
Season of Light - 5 Solstice Songs for 2007
List Sites |
Internet News Clipping and Research Services
I would love to discuss speculative fiction and occult topics
Seers and Seekers
hurricane like a hurricane like a natural disaster wind and rain laying waste to my life. tossed, torn, left astray and a stranger in the way, or at least not the norm. a sad wastrel left adrift in the storm. sing my wanderers' song tonight. let the wind carry my fading melody off onto wind-whipped ports of call. my breath's been carried out to sea nothing left to become of me once the hurricane has passed into the day the foggy, rainy day . . . I gaze upon the ragged sea.
poem(s) of the day
(some days are longer than others)
Timothy McVeigh Is Still Dead
It's morning in America
The morning of June 11, 2001
A warm and beautiful Spring day
And in Terre Haute, Indiana -- a little after 7:00 am --
Timothy McVeigh is dead.
What more is there to say?
We all know the score:
Death: 169, Mercy: 0
The hero "bloody, but unbowed"
Silenced, but still proud
Ashes to scattered ashes
Death to death.
It was a warm and windy day,
bittersweet in springtime,
the trees, newly leaved,
swayed in the warm, sweet melody.
It was a day to kick stones
along a riverbank and dream,
before a night of jukebox music and cokes
at the local diner.
What kind of day are you?
Wind, rain: a snuggle under the covers morning
"dreaming of the way things might have been"?
Someone asked: What short of revolution could remake
the world to be
more fair, peaceful, more encouraging of love?
My new mantra: "lighten up":
Eyes upward, facing mysteries of stars and heavens
Heart lightened, to more merry, merry be
I lighten the load to my aching shoulders, and find
worlds of light and joy easier to carry
I look to ancient wisdoms to enlighten my soul
And I laugh, lightly, brightly,
let loose too tightly inheld breath of
Breathing freely, I inhale
the exhilarating scent of changing leaves
zen cards spirit e-cards
My heart is on the edge of a knife--
not licensed surgery
just self-medication for pain.
What else is true?
Betrayal by the gods can result in confusion.
Sometimes it all seems clear and clean and real --
When sensation makes sense.
Nobody knows the trouble I've seen,
'cause they're all busy looking at their own.
Knife's edge -- the end of the rainbow
See the shining beatitude, the joyous reunion.
When all the lonely, separated strands and coloured bands
finally find their proper placement in celestial harmony.
Oh, the trumpets will sound calling all to glory.
But what else is true?
Are there cries for war throughout the land?
Are there crises crying for attendance while our leaders are otherwise involved?
Are there cowering souls, beyond earthly torment, crying for release
while hiding in cubicles or corner offices or ivory towers
playing at mind games, convoluted strategies, never quite sure
who they are?
Are there banners flying, urging all to attend the great banquet?
Is this the feast for which we've come?
The knife cuts both ways.
Does it matter why we bleed?
Venus Guide Us to Peace a meditative poem Not just sweetness and light There is a strength; there is conviction -- there is a vibrant dedication to true worth. If we can but believe again in all the humane virtues -- Love is sharing, in kindness, understanding, supportive regard. Love is forgiving and being forgiven, when it is clear that malice was not intended or malice has been exorcised -- an acceptance of the positive power of change, of growth in spirit. Love is the assumption of "we." We are doing being going having creating We are able to exchange our labor, knowledge, possessions, positions We are able to take in more than I -- to synergize our fortunes into wealth and integral well being. Love is not just a song -- a pretty set of symbols Love is a power and a glory and an all encompassing truth. Love is addition and multiplication, not division or subtraction. Love enriches and inspires us. Love is not blind, not foolish. Love is not denying the self or self interest. Love is seeing clearly, knowing wisely, understanding and expanding the self -- expanding outward to take in the universe of interconnected, interdependent being. Love sees the ugliness; and love sees the beauty. The ugliness saddens; the beauty invigorates. Love is to peace as music is to harmony. But how are we to love in a discordant world? It is within us to pick out the true, enduring melody to which our essential selves are tuned -- If we but look to, listen to, open our selves to Venus, the Goddess of Love, Peace, Justice, Harmony as she manifests within us all.
Madalyn Aslan's Astrology Web Page
Mississippi Riverside romance one dusky June Turned into a winter poem By firelight -- light of the moon. We loved and parted all too soon Each to return, a separate home Riverside romance one dusky June. I catch a glint, a ring of spoon Flashing through the tale I spin By firelight -- light of the moon. Sometimes at night I hear you croon: "We never had a chance to win." Riverside romance one dusky June By firelight -- light of the moon.
The moon is blue and dreaming Cry all my children to sleep In conquest dreams we deem to rule In darkest halls we plot in torment In empty caverns we deify glory Dance, again, dance for freedom Dance my children to sober dreaming Of valor and honor and color and pain Dance and cry and strive again To hold a mass and state the Name Call forth my demons from sleep The songs of old and runes of yore The empty words we've learned to score The high and low and even Listen and you'll hear them moan It's dark and dirty here below The emptiness can drive you To a place you ought not go You'll die in horror screaming Cry all my children to sleep The moon is blue and so are you You'll hear its song so clearly And discount it all to dreams And when you wake, you'll wonder Why you're screaming Why you ache in places you can't feel Why your work and world don't seem so real Why the voices in your head are screaming And you'll count the phases of the moon And wander in the night without direction And keep a silent vigil in your secret heart And turn quickly round the corners, Lest someone see you And when the curse is cast, you'll hear it spoken Without bothering to look for the absent speaker And when the moon has turned its face To other dreamers You'll see a vision overpower the sky And answer . . . when you ask it "why?" The moon is blue and dreaming. Mushroom teacups sail in stardust withered laurels snap in dustwhirls tethered horsemen roam the skyways soldiered remnants hiss through brushwoods All is soon made clear.
A Kodak MomentA joyous encounter with life A joyous encounter called my life I've swung from trees in tropical times And swum the seas of paradise And learned to breathe upon the earth You've got to see me; you've got to listen To these wonders that I've learned. Traveling, traveling a hard-stoned road Working my legs, my mind, carrying my load Journeying for countless years Seeking out the sea of tears Eyes blinded by a black lace veil I break my trail (As in my mind my thoughts unwind my tale) A marvelous secret, a hidden treasure trove While unicorns play harpsichord Within a blossomed grove A newborn child with something wild that plays in rainbowed eyes Has been declared of druid laird born to hypnotize Been borne to hypnotize Sing lullabies Reward all the heathen with sleep And dreaming dreams as such who waken Find their very core earthshaken And made to believe in possibilities They set their sites, reshaping all reality And of them they've begotten me. Sound the magic pipes of Pan All who hear may understand The fluid waif who walks the land Spawn of Diana's fling With the clove-footed king Vibrate to music, music, music In every cell of living fluid 'Tis alright to be a druid Of forest borne to roam through future lands Touch me, touch me, touch me, touch me Become my hands. Floating, wandering, restless dreams Call me to respond. I rode a mountain faire Picked daisies for my hair Learned to know the name of every weed I dwelt the night alone In a crevice made of stone And never thought of what I next would need I dreamt of castles bold And the language of the Olde And struggled to bring my dreams alive And whistled as I rode The songs I'd oft been told At parties seen In waking dream Another place and time Another tune, another rhyme And I'd sit beside my campfire And gaze into the flames And yearn of learning other places, Atune to other names Traveling over other lands, Seeking secrets, other plans Or just remembering another song For the secret of each soul is in its song. Blazing all around Miles from bare ground Twisting twig upon an aery sea. Luminescent way Whatcha gonna say Songbird, whistle your wisdom to me. A maid of golden wings In lullabying sings Of white sails racing in the wind. No two are e're the same Of the tales she can name Oh, nightingale -- take me in! Blazing all around Miles from bare ground Journeying upon a vessel rare Silently I sing To hold remembering Magic castles in the air. Getch yer gimme Pull that file! Collapse that case! You are obsolete -- unexistent And ain't no one gonna hire you in this industry. Whatcha holding on to? Whatch gonna live for? Got a score to settle while the dying's cheap Gonna find a rooftop and fire. Gonna tap a neural gap and get higher. Gonna hold a seance and retire. Become a log a'rotting in the wood Enter eternity a nonfunctioning robot Captured in celluloid, electronic impulses Air tremors and interruptions in space. We make no difference to a meteor -- Any blind force that destroys without design -- We make no difference to our own kind. Blind orgiastic miasma Pressing, moaning, sucking in life. Entropy. Elegy. Ontogeny. Images of innocence float by in my mind I'm looking for a pot of gold I never hope to find And wonder in the dark of night What if I should go blind. Today is made of yesterdays, Tonight of yestereves. The spoken words I say to you I hope you won't believe. We've but so little time my friend, Too little time to grieve. And I wonder in my heart of hearts Just where all will lead. Will I once more take an oath of pain And watch my body bleed Or will I learn that living's When you take all that you need? Busy work, busy talk, trying to make time Talk of energy, talk of war, Talk of who you're out to score Learn to love and disremember Trying to make time; dying to make time. Try to run and they've got you busted. Try to hide, try to hide, try to hide. Everyone's there to be mistrusted. Try to hide, try to hide, try to hide. What's left of you inside? You are of me. You are one of me. You see what I see. You do what I see. You do what I command. I've got you in my hand. I've got you underhand. Touch me. Touch me. Touch me. Touch me. You are far away. You are very far away. You don't do what I say. You don't hear what I say. I'm screaming "go away." Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. I'm sitting in my room. I've got you in my room. I see you in my womb. You got away too soon. You haven't got a chance. No, not a bloody chance. I circle in my dance. I've got you in my dance. In a trance, in a trance, in a trance, in a trance Come on -- DANCE! Touch me. Touch me. Touch me. Touch me. DANCE! Quietly, quickly, without a trace Annihilate an entire race Stealthily, silently my poison kills To cleanse this land of a people's ills. The key's been cast, so lock the door On lies and poverty; greed and war. Purify in red hot fire Diefy the symbol of desire And when all desire's turned to dust Etch in fire: "IN GOD WE TRUST." A sacred trust. Sound the bell Sound the bell Sound the bell slowly O'er all we've made holy. Ring bright pure-toned peals O'er gold flaming fields In music now seal'd the end of our fate. Sound the bell. Sound the bell. And now I sail from the sea of Lethe A phoenix, risen from my death To journey on through time and space Progenitor to the human race. [The Druid's Opera was originally conceived as a multi-media event -- if you would like to perform it, please let me know.]
[these are actually song lyrics. some people have offered to write the music for them. if you would like to write your own music, i would love to hear it.]Picture you in a fairy-tale moment Picture me as I was always meant to be Picture us rolling through green meadows Picture everybody happy In my life of quiet desperation I still try to find the time to dream Look at us, we're quite a combination Wonder if we'll be happy Picture love as quiet desperation Picture life as where we have to be Picture time away from aggravation Picture everybody happy Picture you in a fairy-tale moment Picture me as I was always meant to be Picture us rolling through green meadows Picture everybody happy Art Image Link
This Druid Seat site owned by Laurie Corzett.Designs by Willow
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The Druid's Opera
AIN'T NOBODIES' BUSINESS IF YOU DO
Peter McWilliam is dead -- June 14, 2000 -- r.i.p.
a noble educator killed in his prime by the senseless "war on drugs"
Listening to daily news reports, I am assaulted by senseless acts of violence and despair. It has been occurring to me that our world need not be such an ugly and hopeless place for so many of our citizens. With the technology already available, we could provide the means to more happily fulfilled lives for a great many more of us, thereby ending the bulk of beastly behavior engendered by squalid environments and the anger/apathy reactions to a derth of meaningful alternatives in so many lives. The media is full of woeful tidings about young people involved with drugs and inappropriate sexual experiences -- an outgrowth of the glorification of such activities in the same media, but also the reaching out for somekind of experience in a world that allows very little in the way of achievement or fulfilling activities for the young. Young children are subjected to all kinds of horrible experiences perpetrated by their so-called caretakers, both abusing parents and those in whose care the parents mistakenly leave them in order to go to jobs to provide for the material needs of the family. People in many parts of the world suffer basic deprivations of food and shelter. Many children face lifelong handicaps resulting from early malnutrition. Many are left with lifelong emotional and physical scars from having to fend for themselves on the streets from an early age. Violence is learned as the appropriate reaction to anger and frustrations. In the media and on the streets, violence is glorified and rewarded. Love is seen as being linked to pain, of betrayal, of loss, and the love/pain link experienced in abusive family relationships. Poverty both material and emotional is endured, but not quietly. Violent reactions are visited especially on the families and neighbors themselves subject to these brutalizing environments, as well as upon those who are materially better off, in the form of all manner of violent crime. The criminal justice system seems to only reflect and propagate the brutalizing conditions which do nothing to amerliorate the hate, pain, frustrations in an endless cycle of violence, victimizing victims and perpetrators and numbing the sensibilities of the professionals who attempt to work within the system. The education system fails to educate in most of the areas that we need to understand to function in our world. How much do we learn in school (or even at home or on the streets) about basic health and safety, financial management, childcare, legal rights and responsibilities, building meaningful relationships, building self-esteem, building and maintaining a home? Instead, most of what our young people learn in the schools that they must spend most of their formative years attending seems to be more destructive and counterproductive than truly useful. Like it or not, our children (the children of our world, be we parents or not) are our future. The quality of life we can look forward to is the quality of life we teach our children to expect and produce. And in the present we live out the expectations we are producing today. Do we really want a world based on violence and ignorance? I don't. I want a world in which I and my loved ones could live in relative peace, security and well-informed choice. Yet, what am I doing to promote such a world? I see the misfortunes around me, and feel hopelessly frustrated, beyond any attempt at change. "I am, after all, only one relatively powerless person," I say, and go on with my daily chores, which, after all, leave me little time or energy for doing battle with the powers that shape my surroundings. I have come up with several ideas and fantasy scenerios which I believe would, if implemented, result in a happier world. I do not expect you to agree with my ideas. In fact, I would be highly gratified if you would disagree, and in your disagreement develop or expand ideas of your own which you might share, thereby increasing the energy expended toward positive change in opposition to the apathy or uselessly expended anger against vague or inappropriate targets which, I fear, are overwhelming our healthier impulses. And, if by chance you do agree with any of my ideas, perhaps you could expand on them or help to devise more effective methods of implementation than I have yet been able to imagine. It is said that imagination can be a powerful tool toward change. Perhaps the opening of channels of communication for our positive imaginings might help us to create a world in which we could be prouder and happier to live. go_to_thoughts
Please come back soon and visit me. All written material (c) Laurie Corzett (libramoon). If you wish to use any of my writing for any purpose, please let me know. Also, please include copyright notice [(c) Laurie Corzett] and my email or web page address.
Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org
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