Odi et Amo

:שְׁמַע יִשְׂרָאֵל יהוה אֱלֹהֵינוּ יהוה אֶחָד

[verseandevenworse]

Hey buddy long time no see are you ok? Vampire Hospital Waiting Room is going to the 'west end' in November - from your pal Theo McCabe

Hey Theo! Awesome to hear from you. I’m doing well, just wasting time in the west country, studying and corrupting the local youth. How about yourself? Where are you based now?

Glad to hear about VHWR - who knew anybody would got to see a show with such a long name? ;)

Sorry I took so long to reply. It’s term-time so I’m not spending much time on Tumblr. Is there an easier way to communicate?

Come to Exeter some time!

Namaste, from your chum Sam Davidson

[verseandevenworse]

Flailstorm

Wandering sky, your friendly cheeks aflame, reach from your scuttling heavens to my hand, and bring your bolts, give me your ageless name, I’ll climb, but never claim to understand the voices in the storm who vaunt and soar and scream their shapes across the stratosphere, instead upon the sky will rise and roar in blind reply, come thrust your thunders near, and split my sense across the sheets of God, unmake this normalcy of sleeping days, confound my reason with your frenzied flood, and make the lurking waters flail and blaze, and call us up who dare to love in you all that’s mad, and meaningless, and true

[verseandevenworse]

The drawn Horus

In between the waters, where the meanings merge, I’ve tasted the perfection of life’s obscure beginnings, in my dark-begotten dreams of the God-besotted Nile, ~ In the moment of un-making, when the unimagined dawn slips her fingers through the desert, smooths the curvature of Earth, I have sung the song of waking that our music might be heard, ~ I am ghostly, I am broken, I am empty to be full, I am but a song to you be it yet the greatest song, I am what you sing to me, let us make and both be music

[verseandevenworse]

24-hour yuga cycle

There is no sense in all this light that I can write upon this page, the form of life has taken flight and can’t be caught; thus ends the age with flesh and breath and all aflame, and all our madnesses combined in one unutterable name and one unfathomable mind, ~ and all our feelings borne on wings aboard the saucer-hoarding sky, and all our books of ships and kings and all our private fantasy made manifest in mythic lives against the depthless mystery, which contrast to our burning gives, and laughs at our intensity, ~ but I must worship in my way the naked gods of earth and sea, until the night devours the day and life gives way to ecstasy, and pave as all the poets must the sandy road with bitter pearls, and paint my heavens in the dust, and sing of stars and gypsy girls

[verseandevenworse]

laughterthought

You who skip beyond the painted coaches, streaming with the frost in fits of steam, you who pace the trail as dawn approaches on toward the burning east, whose gleam emerges from your fey imagination to light your eyes, now seem yet further blessed than when we shared the Celtic revelation and kept our temples in the cosmic west, so skitter on while water deftly courses, as colour from the morning slips and spills and lead your way through herds of dreaming horses to holiness and all that’s in the hills, this world  is ours, and yours is all the laughter, and all that we will learn of love hereafter

[verseandevenworse]

On our turning into music

I am life, aye I am that which lives, and you are breath which life imparts to life, inside of life, the never-answered if, the mystery which sense to nonsense gives, the faith in which all faithfulness believes, how strange that after all this play of form, the still remain the centre of the storm, the pain the source of that which pain relieves, and you and I were dreaming all along, there never was a falling into flesh, it always was this fleeting and this fresh, the word was really always just a song, our bodies just the instruments, and who would doubt that music makes the truth more true?

[verseandevenworse]

Shared names

Silently between the worlds we wander breathlessly the emptiness within, whispers in the wilderness of skin, shadows of the bold, eternal thunder in whose wake the words whirl and collide, clothing of our holy bodies shed, our incarnations coiled across this bed, and all our worldly longings there beside, and I am only word, and flesh, and you, aye, you are only light and dark, and we oh, we are where the cliff shears into sea, and where the midnight bursts from black to blue, and where the gasp is filled with passing breath, yes, you and I are one, and life is death

[verseandevenworse]

Sonnet

Strange to think how nothing stands apart, for mind has made all things a part of each, and every mood re-weaves by thoughtful art, those threads that lie the nearest to it’s reach, conspiring of the world through endless games whose playfulness is mocked by gravity to make a never-ending jest of names, and ever-rolling wave of imagery, so that a simple thought, perhaps a shade of autumn bloom of gold, or dark of hair, or the stick of sap from some glad, urban glade, could name the world and all that’s wholesome there, so all that’s good may add to good’s increase and peace be magnified by sweeter peace

[verseandevenworse]

We have thought of ourselves, perhaps, as creatures moving upon this earth, rather helpless, at the mercy of storm and hunger and our enemies. We are to think of ourselves as immortals, dwelling in the Light, encompassed and sustained by spiritual powers. The steady effort to hold this thought will awaken dormant and unrealized powers, which will unveil to us the nearness of the Eternal.

Patanjali

[verseandevenworse]

To my Priestess

You are the picture of my reverence, and feel just how I wish my world to be, you are the bliss in pure experience, the synthesis of truth and fantasy, ~ You are the mirror of the flickering sky, whose outer radiance names the inner light, where in between the two this poetry scatters like the starfall of the night, ~ It is a breath for you and I to share, a stretch of cloud across the span of sea, a souvenir composed of smoke and air, as faithful as our cosmic hearts are free, ~ We turn to song, for thus does nature pray, we are Her way of saying ‘Namaste’

[verseandevenworse]

red spider

red spider hanging

from a house-high thread

in the indoor garden

waits

latent violence stilled

all motion

suspended

[verseandevenworse]

Prophesky

Above the mare's tails, in the morning, on the moors the mist is forming, on the shores the surf is foaming, gulls on sweeping gusts are moaning, in the west, beyond horizons smirched with smog, the tides are rising, where the sun in surf is hiding, whiter wings are blyly gliding; we will ride the surging, streaming silver-subtle gusts of dreaming, lain aloft in murks of meaning, while the mountain maids are keening, singing for the vast dimensions, and the mind's immense inventions, fusions, fancies, fugues, and fissions, wrought by techno-sage magicians, who compose in restless regions Empires ranged by rainbow legions, in between the dream and waking, waiting while the world is quaking, shaking as the veil is breaking, order-ending, mercy making, life-sustaining, light-creating, on our wishful wings pulsating; we are one with what is dawning, and our age is waking, yawning, straining every sense for feeling, flying, falling, hurtling, healing, moment-squeezing, future-fating, meeting in the sky and mating, blazing fires before the nations, sires of winged generations!

[verseandevenworse]

DM-Teatime

I took the road to faery land and there I found the barrow-ground, where in a fog of light confused, a folk of riddle-makers mused, ~ the songs they sang were seared aloft by holy smoke and voices soft, wherein their tongues together came, to ululate Her holy name, ~ and as I heard, their numbers grew, and fresher voices joined unto this minstrel choir of crazy mirth, beyond the skies, beneath the Earth, ~ but weirder still was when I sang and in my voice Her praises rang, and all the voices made one voice, and it was Hers, it cried "rejoice!" ~ The night was all our stranger games, and now I know their many names, and now it seems she's close to me, beneath the stars, across the sea, ~ and though I left, I will return, still sweeter, softer songs to learn, still vaster vistas to be seen there with my darling Trypta-Queen!

[verseandevenworse]

Who go out, raw, and crisis'd by the night, to crisscross the palpy grass with thorn-encountered feet, and the sweat-chrism of the coffee-dark, dehydrating across the morning, ~ Then did we see, at bare inhabited dawn the full, unfiltered gasp of Godland stretch from milky birth across yon cloudy way to distant, whispered Eschaton and end of day, ~ Sky, most holy-human womb of sprites, idea-unfathoming, coil of babbling lights, unsprung in shutless gusts of rumour, wisps and trysts of heat and astral humour, ~ World unlosable, sear and sweetly mine, briefly held and hundred-hailed in wonder, bows before the whimper-kiss of fast intaking breath, and feels the luster return

[verseandevenworse]

Forest murmurs

Picture them at sunrise, by the sky, dark as twitchless silence in the night, dark as self, by self-emitting light illuminated only for the dew-rinsed eye, there as fire by fire, their forms ignite, by the self-sustaining engines of the soul, there by sense coaxed out, as a shoot from a hole by the natural thaw, but theirs a dawn more bright, wake who are awoken, doubly open eyes, and triply stare in radiance at the radiant sight, coloured chiaroscuro provokes each nerve's delight, and the spirit's voice is in the woodbird's cries, and the morning's music shares the trembling sighs of the ones who streaked the dark in human flight

[verseandevenworse]

Younity

If I could sing, O God, I’d sing of this: a single, human body moving near, and nothing else but void and emptiness, and nothing but the rush of breath to hear, for nothing seems to do except to merge and make a music of the mystery, the whisper of the mind-unwinding urge arranged into a wistful symphony, a fraction of the wilderness sustained and spun out for the sake of sharing light, for light and dark and all can be contained in one true utterance from the sacred night, within whose depthless dark all truth belongs and from whose deathless dreams I snatch these songs

[verseandevenworse]

On the creation of new language

How can I speak when all of speech is lame, and only nature goes where truth precedes, and common words in common use defame the sacred thoughts which spring from silent seeds? Was it this way for those primeval bards whose lays set down the bedrock of our tongue? Were they constrained by age-corrupted words? Was it for this their rhapsodies were sung? Surely if in youth our thoughts were fresh, and out of fresh encounters grew fresh mind then we might seek in fancy and in flesh the source of language of a clearer kind, and not exhaust the hopefulness of youth 'til we can speak with confidence of truth