Epoch Awareness –email@example.com
A Consideration Of Things, some that have been, some that cannot be, and true dreams ersatz of Truth.
Its A Collaboration.
Communicate with one another and consider:
Publish Progressive Principles In Electro-Polar Ink
Make a digital mental electric harem (of concepts) for the lost:
I love my records. They
Spin and they
Sing. Analog living is essential to
Life as we know it.
Post Comment Poems,
Post comment Essays,
Post comment flash fiction,
Post rhythmic convergence of sight-sound-thought-today/ tonight
And of course enjoy your stay,
Its an new age each day today,
Awareness comes with every new breath,
crosshatched pixel; gathered and shot into your thin-glass-liquid-screen display; or inserted peripherally or directly into your your eye sockets ( rods, cones, or retinas);
Its Literary, Literal, Lingering; its an EPOCH OF
PS: I Like good Art, Good Art Is Generally Made By Poor Men, For No Food.
If your a Publisher, I'd Appreciate your time.
If your a Writer, Human, or other form of Artist,
Id appreciate hearing your voice,
But SPEAK SOFTLY;
Art deserves reverence
Inert Components Of Actual Thought
On this Earth
there is no
Yet there are
that can delight us
for a time,
12 But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name:
13 Which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.
14 And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth.
15 John bare witness of him, and cried, saying, This was he of whom I spake, He that cometh after me is preferred before me: for he was before me.
16 And of his fulness have all we received, and grace for grace.
17 For the law was given by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus Christ.
18 No man hath seen God at any time, the only begotten Son, which is in the bosom of the Father, he hath declared him.
19 And this is the record of John, when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, Who art thou?
20 And he confessed, and denied not; but confessed, I am not the Christ.
21 And they asked him, What then? Art thou Elias? And he saith, I am not. Art thou that prophet? And he answered, No.
22 Then said they unto him, Who art thou? that we may give an answer to them that sent us. What sayest thou of thyself?
23 He said, I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord, as said the prophet Esaias.
John 1, 12-23
Behold! This body is a mask to adore, or to scorn oft, to weep for, abandon, cherish, and belove!
In this face
is each smooth stone
of the endless rivers-
-my skin is milked of the bone of Earth,
-my mind is electric etheric Terra
Thoughts like liquid glass assembled,
-my hair like sol- the ambers fields of grain, the cloudless furrows at dusk,
-my sight the effortless dawning vistas of the Moon,
But this mask of Earth,
this Face of Man-
That shell of stone-
This heart of deep mountains and dark and diving oceans- or vicious effervescent skies at the raptured Wings of bright mornings!
The forests are
my wisest company-
and a Trillion birdsongs,
earthquakes, and thunder-claps, are my beating heart!
that veil greets
And all ambient being
The Seven Sisters
I Stand between Cancer, Virgo and Embody the Eastern Lamb of Night-
I have Tamed the Lion- for I have grasped Denebola proudly!
“Al Ras al Asad al Shamaliyy,”
“The Lion’s Head Toward
The South” is My own also-
The Sickle is my mouth,
My tail, and my breath-
Mansion of the moon- my sweet bright chalice-
The Dove fairest of my maiden flock-
A little Prince- my Sky is my Crown!
Rex is my Latin solace, a name I cannot say aloud-
UR.GU.LA “the great lion”,
Regulus of Ages, sweetest Star of my heavens anon
is my royal Diadem,
Zosma- where my hip was flayed by the
Blessings of the morn,
and The Shining forth
is my malice in that ladder of night-
Feared by the Arabs, the Turks, The Red Dragon of old-
Revered by Babylon, Egypt, and Greece-
Azure mixing planes-
This brow has sopped the clusters of Centauri, Leethes shadowed keep, and these ears have rung out songs from-
of the Bringers
of light, night, and War.
I have etched
of the harbors of five
million million million
the far reaching
I have climbed to the utmost pinnacle of the upper chambers- I have declared the dance and song of the Unseen Ones- The Fiery Ones- The Nether-cast
I have broken all seven seals
Assembled each Elder-
and the Book has flown through me.
The Unchanging Orders of the Cosmos have spoken from this my Mask-
I alone have been their witness-
Behind my mask lays a hundred million million eyes- of an uncountable sea of Souls.
For I have asked
I am but man, but made of Starlight, dust, and Thought-
I am the vessel happily
emptied of ego
for this reward.
You here are only
That which you see
In your own image-
Vapid unions of your Masks
There is but a face:
In shame, in joy, or in wait-
The city is filled
with Jazz tonight-
and beneath all
Never lie to a Genius- Never tell the truth to a Madmen.
Lie to the Madman, telling him of his genius-
speak softly to the Genius, for he can already tell that you are certainly mad.
I Shall Stand,
At The Crossing
Do you remember
The beauty of
When all we knew was
When all we had was
On our backs,
When all our idols
Fell to the floor,
When we were there
Our Love was bold
Our purpose clear,
For when you cross
That wall of slumber
And you awaken-
“I will assert my dominance over your foolish eastern Idols-
I’ll shall bury your gods in the ashes of their goddess wives,
I will summon
all four winds
to cover them
in the ruins abounding,
I will call hell, hail, and tempest- Plague shall be my rear guard,
Pestilence and piety the twin blades!
I will shatter each pot, rend any veil, dismiss and purge all dross of iniquities!
I shall curtail the worship of Nothing, so boldly shall we win,
that my defiance shall be
a worship in its own light-
I shall never submit
to blessed unholy fires,
And I shall forsake all these last pagan festivals-
Your dances and your sacrifices I shall not receive,
Your new Moon Festivals, they weary me,
Your incense and bells
Molochs sweet breath of defiance-
Isis, Ishtar, Athena, Baal-
All of them now
Do crumble and fall!
And each of
the young pretty statues,
golden seals, and ivory gates,
and all the tiny altars,
Will bleed out
So the Templar’s
and the night
was cold and empty…
His quest was won,
the darkness fled,
and in that hour
the sunlight shed-
No god nor goddess alive did show,
Nor God sent Hell, nor Hail, and tempests none-
there was but in that night
the holy dawn…
The temple was bare
and in ruins-
the dancers and songs
all had fled,
But the last Idol
that stood tall
in the Temple-