'Dinner won't be long, Dear.'
Burt puffed up his pillows and squeezed one out.
'Better wash your hands, now'.
The armchair smothered his glee.
Wallaby faggots,
Brown rice juices,
Lentils,
Barley and rye.
Jumbo morels,
Whatever she sells,
Liquid fish stock,
Brussels and hock,
Tranches of offal from Thebes!
Chilly jam and
Fruity brown sauce.
Round and round
The rotten rump,
The rancid ratchet rasped.
'It must've been that onion jus',
Was all that I could gasp.
Round and round
The rotten rump,
The rancid ratchet rasped.
'It must've been that onion jus',
Was all that I could gasp.
O Scribes of Thebes, take the noose, burn fiercely the words of Aleister Crowley.
For all the wisdom of the hieroglyphic signs lies in union with only one cosmorat-the creator of the tongue of the sun-god Ra and counterpart of Seshat and spouse to Ma'at.
And If a man is double-dealing and his utterance is false, do not trust his utterances, do not heed his tales of woe_ !
In the beginning of creation were hermeneutics, astronomy, geography and medicine
When Thoth was taught the signs of the sacred tablet .
How dare Egypt! How dare Hesert, Abydos, Rekhui, Per-Ab, Urit, Pselket, Hat, Sep, Ta-ur, Bah,Antcha-Mutet ,Talmsis, Ta-kens and Amen-heri-ab Shrines!
Tell you the truth you scholars and believers who dwelleth in these darkest places of Thoth: In Judgment of Monsoon, your souls shall be extirpated from the surface of the Terra Firma.
Men who bow in homage to the face of Adam and mankind,
There's a spectrum of atom, sun, four elements, five saints, dimensions six. Go seek His attributes! But explanations cannot compass him.
Everyone was trying to be different
so i stayed the strange
hot or cool
i never felt
different is all of you
inverting spheres in the never where
electric jolt
as i lick upon a dream
inside a cone of thought
universally diverse
Thin king out side
Thebes Ox
Canonical, orbit, elliptical, prodigal, crown
come back to me reasons and signs and be found in these
Stardust, Sirius, be the scourge of Thebes and of the Sirens of Hades on their knees
But not to service their own but to hide and be weak in thee
The Papyrus reeds wallow in the wind
the fowls skip amongst the mirages,
in the dirge of passion wind dale
in swoon in unfair/fare play in khartoum
In the hands of the divine to scale
Fields, through which the herd drives in dew
and weather it in his due well, oxen and Ewe
The sea flows out of the shore into undersea caverns of mines
The sun comes out from the horizon,
and gemuinely shines
the "sun is my light, and is at your door"
the moon and sun united, light ignites akin forever more
The sun shines from below and rises above like a Phoenix of radiating love
the moon and sun united, satellited relays moonlighting this trove
COLLOSUS RIDDLE
Watcher of Thebes, your watch has made me want.
I bring you death--Oedipus.
I proclaim,
the very solving of your mysteries.
Now cast yourself to Hades, your beauty fails.
You sphinx; hast not your buxom bared for me
where others suckling fed of hemlock's taste,
but now you must repay each soul you felled.
Die *****.
© RON WILSON AKA Vee Bdosa
the Doylestown Poet
--Isn’t She a Daughter of Oedipus?--
Isn’t she Antigone? In search of a fallen prince,
who roams in the battlefield where the corpses of
defeated warriors lie gruesomely in streams of blood.
Isn’t she Antigone? In search of a sibling who was
rejected by a sightless ruined old homeless man at Colonus,
who walks through the middle of a pack of hungry wild dogs
and a flock of huge winged covetous vultures
coming together for laying carrion.
Isn’t she Antigone? For sake of a brother Polyneices’ soul,
who kneels to the ground and moves the earth with her slender fingers,
dragging an armored corpse and covers it with dirt she removed with tears.
Isn’t she Antigone? who risked her own life because of sisterly fidelity,
and, now, thrown into a hole that is deeper than Oedipus’ eye-pits
to end her anguish, a miserable life; to close her abhorrent memories, the horrible ordeals; while hearing a tender, caring voice of a wandering soul from above
“mourn no more, my troubled child
weep no more, my beloved daughter”
Greece you are waiting for me.
With white speechless marbles
within the August heat.
With sullen and loveless areopagites
carving my name on sea-shells.
Hypereides, you liar.
Praxiteles, oh so blind.
You Xenocrates, son of the *****.
And me that I was thought
I would return bearing banners
to rebuild your Thebes.
A roar under the earth.
Ashes in the wind.
Athens rises in the sky
and charges against me.
Why should I be afraid?
Why should I run for a shelter?
No!
I don’t want you to cover my eyes.
I want to see the terror in yours,
when after the execution
you’ll find me at the exit,
waiting for you
with a molotov cocktail in my hands.
I center myself from within
Toward the gravitational pull of the Ibis
Toward the whiteness that I wish to wear
Away from the darkness of despair.
I am suspended from within.
Suspended between the nothingness
The nothingness between the evil and the right
The nothingness between the darkness and the light.
My lefthandness leading to my right
To a possession of my memory not just for reminiscence
But for wisdom and the sacred knowledge
Of Theuth and of all the Earth.
I do not want to be hearer of nothing
I desire a reputation of understanding
And care not for the approval or disapproval
Of those of forgetfullness and Thebes who know not of the Ibis.
(January 7, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
Bias, one of the Seven, take up neither (when the Persians arrived) an arm
such glorious like the Seven for Thebes,
nor a book full of wisdom of now.
No.
There is a talk he said, “Omnia mea mecum porto”,
as every beggar says and left (in
hidden)
the burning and in ruins turned town.
There is a talk he bought (I wonder what with) the lasses,
who (maybe) the Spartans had taken for their slaves. And he sent them back as daughters.
I even don’t want to think. Omnia mea mecum porto.
The future is theirs with their fathers in
disgrace.
Yes.
He had died before the court passed sentence
(so just) on the chest of the child.
And he says, “For all good thank the
gods”.
*All that's mine I carry with me – Latin
No raised pinnacle marked the place
No pure white limestone shining
Where Ramesses slept looked commonplace
to foil the robbers scrying.
Yet he had moved the earth and sky
this pharaoh disdained all rivals.
His bounty buried beneath the sand
portrayed a life beneath blue skies
his star encrusted tomb ethereal
his Ka rising from Death’s hand.
The hills of Thebes his place of rest
and beneath him his father lay
amongst the great he’d be the highest
his battle standards on display.
He ruled with iron hand on staff
as a Godhead he was portrayed.
Most mighty and acclaimed, no man
was he, who felled the Hittite chaff;
beneath his chariots wheels flayed
the denizens of Egypt’s land.
Worshiped was he in temples true
his semblance graces Abu Simbel
with eyes wide o’er lake so blue
his gaze belays the infidels.
Beside him she, Nefertari
laid claim to a sacred place
held above all others his wife
most renowned for her beauty
a love to last through time and space
may all true hearts pay such tariff.
From Garden of Eden through Thebes
A dream was built of an Adam and an Eve
Of it the bone of an Adam, comes that of an Eve
A helper, the name giveth to her by the most High.
And to forget not to share with the same tongue,
The fruit of life, full of grief and glee.
There begin from the beginning, the rituals called kiss.
Whither thy kiss for me to build my dream?
A dream envisioned on a solid rock of Gibraltar
That which cannot become grime in the wind.
Kiss causing tongues to speak off known languages
An arrow that ruffles and travels through the taste bud
I am a dreamer in search of a kiss to heal my maw sour
Just drop it . . . and off I go to build up a dream in the sky.
Conceptualized for a lady called Tobi,
In the mad quest to have a kiss to build a dream on.