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Lady Labyrinth Poem
“The True Mother”
What part of a heart
in another could one trust
when betrayal comes
like a silver bullet, words and deeds
sharp piercing to burrow
bleed out Life’s dreams
rust crumbles to dust
Virulent apathy spreads
Betrayal’s destruction
hand in hand with death
of all that you gave
to your bantam shadow
arrives all too fast, all too fast,
nevermore no waking dawn
nevermore no sleep hugged dew kissed dusk
To wake your bantam shadow
breakfast then protecting
hold hands, walk out the gate
escort onto school bus
Thy empty arms clasp
nothing of the Bluebell’s spell
empty heart now bitter
baby teeth have been replaced,
then cruelly stolen, strung up
by The Papillon Boilermaker
'round a silver bullet crucifix cross
a bitter gutted soul kept empty
in a closed glass jar watches Time’s sands fall
an Autumn body turns to rusk
For a cruel stalker
passive in approach to
sharpen its cur’s teeth on
what you grew in your garden
you should have known better
would never last
the marrow sucked out
swallowed and in the cur’s dirt, passed
A Life is killed
four quartered and drawn
cut out of your life
clean as surgery torn
like a dam crying out for its whelp you are
to a snide neighbourhood with closed ears;
your bantam shadow
is torn out of your life
by a childless green-eyed spinner
obsessively coveting your all
the apple of your eye
Your pretty paper dolls all in a row
all pulled apart
the bantam shadow drugged now
with shiny embellishments
from the singular usurper
seen walking towards you
from the other side’s murky past
arm in arm now she goes
with your bantam shadow
on the false golden path
What part of a heart
in another could one trust?
A slow spreading poison
over the seed that was sown
in the garden you nourished and grew
on your own all alone
the interloper spreads its monstrous weeds
o’er what you cherished
now strangled, blighted and smothered
by a false mother, overgrown
Lies of the faithless
dandelions blown hither thither
legs uprooted wither
Blue Roses with their thorns
pierce the true mother
Black Lantana like barbed wire
strangles a good voice
the sharp thistles
turn their backs twist and roam
Poisonous slugs from
a manipulative tongue
slide over what remains like Corpse fauna
caste and covered in sticky web
true purpose in life now cannibalised
disintegrates your garden, all goodness uprooted,
plucked to steal the flower grown intrauterine
now walks hand in hand with evil, in your stead
out the garden gate
lost in Medusa’s counterfeit countenance
in the bogus golden black time
maggots feast on the alienation
sent from the thief’s covetous mind
Trampled and stolen, what grew
in the Golden Chord Garden
that precious bloom
a decade and five
bantam shadow in time
the garden, becomes barren and dry,
ripped without thought
a tear in the fabric of what was beautiful,
what once was freely mine
now not mine, is without true freedom, bought
The one you once called Home
without a backward glance,
does not hear your silent cry
disloyalty sown
a stringent salt stinging
alienation owned
Through bruised veins unity is stopped still
embedded with falsehood’s fungus like an infection
Medusa, the gold holding great manipulator
turns and she stares back at you
“My child forever, the child is now mine,
‘twas never yours to begin with,
‘twas just a matter of playing nice
sitting at your table,
like trusted confidante
fawning, smiling, biding my time”
The Serpent smiles, it slithers away
with your child in it’s fangs
It slithers away, it closes all doors
Somewhere inside the Lion is silent
it no longer flies on heavens wings,
Aslan no longer roars
Endless Dark Night swallows Dark Day,
all this Medusa has kept secret,
behind sealed doors
she laughs all the way
What part of a heart,
one implores,
in another could one trust?
You see the child in your eyes
turn to stone, your dreams all
crumble to dust
What part of a mind
in another, could one trust?
Your April in her Prime’s reflection
could that one you trust?
When love like a loose loose thread
The Golden Chord,
once true golden and strong
is not held closely,
‘tis now close to dead
slipping through your
bantam shadow’s fingers,
in swift time its sweet lifeline is lost
hatred and the great falsehood is fed
Lessons and warnings all forgotten
The past and rosy future all dead
Truth given freely,
the past now ignored,
disrespected and scoffed
your world torn from your arms
Your Golden Chord cut and burnt for a kill,
then trust, like a burning iron sceptre
dropped covered in blood
Medusa, victorious,
holds aloft your mind
she decapitated just for her thrills
she then takes over your throne
you're handed a bottle of pills
swallowed to sleep forever,
taken swiftly like words
one at a time
On the winds of wanting
what now lies buried to your heart
gone missing in all songs
stands before a mirror
now she moves away from
the false mother, gone is Medusa.
The one missing stands truly free
independent apart
fully mature and unknown
in her eyes your shadow
is called, you hear
your name whispered
while she speaks
to her mirror
on a reflecting wall
she calls Home
she remembers you
a voice from her past now fully known
not forgotten at all
this is where
your good soul finds true home
Your good book is written
then in another time,
when you are long gone
and two ghosts are haunting two homes
sitting in gutted harmony
broken hearts and lost time like a cancer
burns through two ghosts
like a twisting church fire
romancing all necromancers
through nights in your bed
there the truest tears of lost love
visible becomes Golden Chord,
the lost thread Angels sing
all around you in choirs
your madness through turmoil is bled
the phantom’s story
will be seen, heard and read
Love in your shadow’s memory
was severed
Two Ghosts :
The bantam shadow, lost
The True Mother, dead
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
Copyright © Lady Labyrinth | Year Posted 2019
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Lady Labyrinth Poem
“The Dissolving Heart”
How many keys
played for seeds
bleeding a life
read, received
cast out
in the left field
planted in the heart
of karma to become
new life reflecting
inwards out to another
holding the echoing
music kept safe
still heard
and felt
for what it is
keys
and notes
found in the heart
played without
the score
separate
but never
apart
love opens
the closed,
the misunderstood
detached
freely
disengages to
all that was war
leaves it
where it belongs
in the past
dissolved.
no more.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“We behold what we are, and we are what we behold.”
The Bhagavad Gita
“The battlefield is a perfect backdrop, but the Gita’s subject is the war within, the struggle for self-mastery that every human being must wage if he or she is to emerge from life victorious. THE.” ‘
The Bhagavad Gita
“Perform all thy actions with mind concentrated on the Divine, renouncing attachment and looking upon success and failure with an equal eye. Spirituality implies equanimity.”
The Bhagavad Gita
“Asceticism is giving up selfish activities, as poets know, and the wise declare renunciation is giving up fruits of action. “
Krishna.The Bhagavad Gita
“When a person responds to the joys and sorrows of others as if they were his own, he has attained the highest state of spiritual union.”
The Bhagavad Gita
“I am Sama Veda among the Vedas; I am Indra among the Devas; I am the mind among the senses; I am the consciousness in all living beings.”
The Bhagavad Gita
“The law of karma states unequivocally that though we cannot see the connections, we can be sure that everything that happens to us, good and bad, originated once in something we did or thought. We ourselves are responsible for what happens to us, whether or not we can understand how. It follows that we can change what happens to us by changing ourselves; we can take our destiny into our own hands.”
Krishna-Dwaipayana Vyasa, The Bhagavad Gita
“The awakened sages call a person wise when all his undertakings are free from anxiety about results; all his selfish desires have been consumed in the fire of knowledge. The wise, ever satisfied, have abandoned all external supports. Their security is unaffected by the results of their action; even while acting, they really do nothing at all. Free from expectations and from all sense of possession, with mind and body firmly controlled by the Self, they do not incur sin by the performance of physical action. They live in freedom who have gone beyond the dualities of life. Competing with no one, they are alike in success and failure and content with whatever comes to them. They are free, without selfish attachments; their minds are fixed in knowledge. They perform all work in the spirit of service, and their karma is dissolved.”
Ved Vyasa, The Bhagavad Gita
“Seek refuge in the attitude of detachment and you will amass the wealth of spiritual awareness. Those who are motivated only by desire for the fruits of action are miserable, for they are constantly anxious about the results of what they do. When consciousness is unified, however, all vain anxiety is left behind. There is no cause for worry, whether things go well or ill.”
Krishna-Dwaipayana Vyasa, The Bhagavad Gita
“A gift is pure when it is given from the heart to the right person at the right time and at the right place, and when we expect nothing in return”
The Bhagavad Gita
Copyright © Lady Labyrinth | Year Posted 2022
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Lady Labyrinth Poem
Something strange
and unexplainable comes this way,
this way, it comes to us sly and fast,
some say, perhaps,
it has already arrived,
it walks unseen, in the midst of all, of us
we go about our daily business,
as if all our tomorrows are far away
and we could be made golden,
inside our tarnished containers
the watchers observe,
silent voices that whisper
their prayers to us,
some of us listen and laugh,
some of us rub our foreheads,
as if to rub away such Tav in the world
as if we are clean,
as if we are not marked,
and never will be marked,
by something ancient hovering over us,
some see signs, those few - well, they wait and watch;
stories of an eclipse
where the Moon kisses the Sun
it languishes sensually in Her darkness
and all below laid wasted,
kings and queens, all now are falling,
by then, when arcs are kissed, all Lots have fallen;
bad seeds are tilled
from the soil of it all,
daily now, we are charged
senselessly unaware, surfing
in the electric news, of it all,
the hidden mysteries
seep through,
drawn and quartered,
bloody masses fed to the dogs,
those idolised, once worshipped as saints,
now fallen saints exposed, messy lists gone all public,
pinned to the walls of their heavens and hells;
in the brief
we’ve been given,
in words worn like amulets
in books held like talismans,
through Emet, we have been instructed, always,
what Is
and what is yet to be,
that which was laid
in words
before us,
always
that returning,
niggling issue, palms open red,
those bloody footprints
always left unshrouded
and resurrecting again,
that crown of thorns
will again, eventually be revealed
to all,
in our hearts
and the rebuilding
of those broken temples,
there lies the all-seeing embedded,
like an emerald tablet,
the hope of saving
all little children
that they may survive
the cloak of darkness
to listen again,
to the wisdom of
the unknown Thoth
to seek stability
in the permanence
of a rock, the forgotten one,
a philosopher, a saviour and a poet,
that promised stalwart cornerstone -
this is what some hope;
what we hear
inside the mind,
throughout our days,
worse in the early hours
of all our mournings,
something quietly different.
Easter arrives 1 week late,
yet, on time, on point, the 8th day
of a new month, resurrected, kissing an eclipse
arcing through 8 little Egypts
all with the same name baptised.
the fall of empires
all around us
our world falls out of rhyme
the other supernatural world
creeps upon us, prophetically,
almost we are human,
we are out of time
mere seconds before midnight,
we become more human, fully understanding
our fragile limitations, what lived in us
all the time, misunderstood
and unacknowledged,
lights out, silently and fast
we were given fair warning –
in words, through books,
we were taught to read,
religously we discarded
as delusional chapters,
all words of fantasy,
fictions to always go
unwarranted, unheeded
we had better more impressive schemes
to master, than to waste our time
on words from another master,
words in those tomes off-handedly considered,
merely Childrens’ Sunday School stories -
the parables largely forgotten,
for sake of better toys released, most classes now,
have largely been dismissed.
we are all children, again,
bored and ill prepared,
swiping right and left,
hiding under covers
cloaked in the shadows
of the approaching storm,
it is unseen, by most,
but close upon us,
some don't feel anything at all,
some sense it closing in,
like rodents between closing walls
its breath
like a tornado rising
urgently pressing
and almost there, rushes past
our daze, loud, like music apocalyptic
we close our eyes, we close our ears
we close our windows, we close our doors
we close our mouths, as if to shut a bad prophecy out,
as if to sleep through it all like a bad dream
and when we wake, the demons' all let out
even those who are best prepared
will be seen to be unfound, and lost,
and ill-prepared, looking for a torch
with never-ending batteries
like alchemic Telesma to save us
when that Night
riding clouds
arrives, spectacularly fast;
like a revelation, it dawns on us,
we have already been raised half-mast
8 Ninevahs, revealed at last.
The 8th Gate,
golden,
opens.
(Lady Labyrinth / March-April 2024)
Easter, 2024.
8th April, 2024, The Eclipse (North America)
“And it shall come to pass,
that all they that look upon thee
shall flee from thee, and say,
Nineveh is laid to waste:
who will bemoan her?
whence shall I seek comforters for thee?”
(Nahum 3:7 KJV)
“From earth it ascends to heaven,
and then back to earth,
From heaven it descends,
gradually receiving,
The virtues of both
that it encloses in its belly.”
(Hesteau 1639, p. 10 , ref. Emerald Tablet)
The Sun and the Moon represent alchemical gold and silver.
Hortulanus interprets "telesma" as "secret" or "treasure":
"It is written afterward:
'The father of all telesma of the world is here,'
that is to say: in the work of the stone is found the final path.
And note that the philosopher calls the operation 'father of all telesma,'
that is to say, of all the secret or all the treasure of the entire world,
that is to say, of every stone discovered in this world.".
(Hortulanus, philosopher, poet; ref Emerald Tablet)
“The Stone the builders rejected,
has become the corner stone”
(Psalm 118:22-23)
Isaiah 19 KJV (… Easter Egg)
Nahum 3 KJV
Matthew 16 NIV (...Easter Egg)
Numbers 19 NIV
8 April 2024, Eclipse
Ninevah x 8, North America
Conspiratorial Reports
Tav/Hebrew.
Emet/Hebrew4Christians (link below)
The Emerald Tablet
Thoth
Telesma
Copyright © Lady Labyrinth | Year Posted 2024
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