Mystic Journey: Water
a gray metal tanker berths on grey metal sea
like a new-born cocooned on mother's bosom.
transporting tons of vital oil, it has come
from the north, and winter, east and night,
challenging currents. it was along aleutian
shores, facing furious siberian storms that
shatter human skull like eggshell that he
handed over control of autonomic functions
of his charge to the bridge. now he maps
solely by instinct (half-forgotten memories
of half-forgotten youth startle like robins
or scent of elm sap stuck to familiar palm.
endless waves of wheat starched like sunday
shirts beyond an old battered barn: perhaps
the whole world is only an endless ocean
of grain? a slow canoe ride down a slow
dreamy stream in dandelion spring- who was she
anyway? so long ago.) following the sun
along the ring of fire into the sea of japan.
there, earthquake gonged sea floor is fluid
flesh of magma, deep as himalaya, angry as hell,
hot as sin. at black hole pressure of thousands
of tons a measure, boulders big as buildings
are split open and tossed out at ocular speed,
searing eternally sunless sea to steam instantly.
creating streams within currents, currents within
streams that make even the mighty river yangtze
seem a sleepy strawberry creek*, its 20 thousand
mile cord of white lava fountains bleed, coiling
round pineal black pacific like a cobra
choking itself. the ring of fire is nucleus
where molten metallic earth meets solid air.
to there is traced the source of all life on
earth, and of all anguish in life. there,
the moody moon is unchallenged regent, ruling
all motions and emotions, every moment governing
the power of gravity, which even sublime sun
is subject to. like the black-watch bag-pipe
and drum that echo not only in ear, but light
spine and skull, the tanker's hundred miler horn
beat back many-headed monsters and much feared
dragons which once marked the end of the world
but which now pop up only when we depth sound
the subconscious womb in which we all drown.
*Little Strawberry Creek, Alberta, Canada
poem by Doug Bentley
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Related quotes
Movement Vi: Innocence
By moon we gather
For the ascension
Great sky shelter us
With your endless compassion
Last survivor
It is you who must pass
Into the light of the new world
Under a sky of innocence
We are now all dying
In a slow black rain
Was it a failure
Of man and angels?
Was it a failure of love?
From this human river
Too cruel for winter
Welcome to the gates
A rehearsal for the silence
Pray we do not enter
Under a sky of innocence
We bathe in the seduction
Beautiful
The light is unraveling now
We open our arms to it
It is close to ground zero
I am no one
Yet I am everyone
We are nothing, but we are all
When I am still, I am inspired
We are not yet born
Half sadness
But half choice
When I am still I can hear
You speak most clearly
Father can you help me
For the ocean is big
And my boat is small
Find the courage
song performed by by Alanis Morissette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Gods Made Heavy Metal
In the beginning there was silence and darkness
All across the earth
Then came the wind and a hole in the sky
Thunder and lightning came crashing down
Hit the earth and split the ground
Fire burned high in the sky
From down below fire melted the stone
The ground shook and started to pound
The gods made heavy metal and they saw that is was good
They said to play it louder than Hell
We promised that we would
When losers say it's over with you know that it's a lie
The gods made heavy metal and it's never gonna die
We are the true believers
It's our turn to show the world
In the fire of heavy metal we were burned
It's more than our religion it's the only way to live
But the enemies of metal we can't forgive
Cause we believe in the power and the might
And the gods who made metal are with us tonight
The gods made heavy metal and they saw that is was good
They said to play it louder than Hell
We promised that we would
When losers say it's over with you know that it's a lie
The gods made heavy metal and it's never gonna die
We believe in the power and the might
And the gods who made metal are with us tonight
We're here tonight for heavy metal are you ready in the hall
They have chosen us and we have heard the call
Gonna tear the roof off with our sound
Crack the walls and shake the ground
Fight tonight for metal one and all
Cause we believe in the power and the might
And the gods who made metal are with us tonight
The gods made heavy metal and they saw that is was good
They said to play it louder than Hell
We promised that we would
When losers say it's over with you know that it's a lie
The gods made heavy metal and it's never gonna die
song performed by by Manowar from Louder Than Hell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Another Huge Earthquake
Another huge Earthquake in Java and thousands are missing and dead
Just one angry outburst of Nature leaving millions of people in dread
Of another mighty earth tremor the fear it is real and widespread
Of the destructive power of our Earth Mother so much has been written and said,
Another huge Earthquake to talk of the anger of Nature no human structure can hope to withstand
Once great buildings left in huge piles of rubble as if they were castles of sand
Built by children on the beach at low tide that at high tide were washed out to sea
So great is the power of our Earth Mother and not one as mighty as she,
All of life lives off of Mother Nature and of her power we are aware
And though Nature can kill thousands of people Mother Nature is never unfair
People come and go like the Seasons but Nature she lives on and on
And she will be around forever though all present life forms may be gone
But she will create new life forms and Nature is forever more
And the stream from the hill will flow down to the river that flows to the great ocean shore.
poem by Francis Duggan
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In Metal
Sculpted in metal
With tongues frozen
A white tiger
With plaited hairs
A black in background
To accentuate
The grandeur
A skull of a man
With headphones
Smiling
On his death
In ashes
Or in rivers
In the ground
So many souls
Angels where stored
The sculpted metal
Wanted to grow roots
A little girl
I see in her
In infertility
She spent her life
Another one
Having wit of sparrow
With same disease
In silence her life
Raising other children
The skull smiling
Their desires
The white tiger
The chauvinist
The black in opportunity
The feet of those women
Like claws
Who the hell
Shall answer these questions
5/2/2009
poem by Sadiqullah Khan
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Early Occult Memory Systems Of The Lower Midwest
In his fifth year the son, deep in the backseat
of his father's Ford and the mysterium
of time, holds time in memory with words,
night, this night, on the way to a stalled rig south
of Kiowa Creek where the plains wind stacks
the skeletons of weeds on barbed-wire fences
and rattles the battered DeKalb sign to make
the child think of time in its passing, of death.
Cattle stare at flat-bed haulers gunning clumps
of black smoke and lugging damaged drill pipe
up the gullied, mud-hollowed road. Road, this
road. Roustabouts shouting from the crow's nest
float like Ascension angels on a ring of lights.
Chokecherries gouge the purpled sky, cloud-
swags running the moon under, and starlight
rains across the Ford's blue hood. Blue, this blue.
Later, where black flies haunt the mud tank,
the boy walks along the pipe rack dragging
a stick across the hollow ends to make a kind
of music, and the creek throbs with frog songs,
locusts, the rasp of tree limbs blown and scattered.
The great horse people, his father, these sounds,
these shapes saved from time's dark creek as the car
moves across the moving earth: world, this world.
poem by B.H. Fairchild
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The Ring
Lead vocal: eric stewart
Round your finger
Token of the love we give one another
Music of the future that well discover
Promises to keep more than any other
Symbolising all that we share
The ring is magic
The ring is power
Like a candle in the dark for everyone to see
The ring is madness
The ring is fire
And it burns with all the brightness of the sun
In a circle
Living in a world of perpetual motion
Turning with the tide of a restless ocean
Spinning on the wheel of your own emotion
Ridin on a wild carrousel
Youll be turning round and round
Round and round we go
Promises, promises, promises, promises
Round your finger
After all the years weve been together
Walking in the sun and stormy weather
Sharing in a moment to last forever
Memories and dreams without end
The ring is magic
The ring is power
And it finds you in the darkness of the night
The ring is madness
The ring is fire
And it guides you when youre blinded by the light
The ring is magic
The ring is power
Like a candle in the dark for all to see
The ring is madness
The ring is fire
And it burns with all the brightness of the sun
The ring is magic, magic, fire, fire
The ring is mine
song performed by by Alan Parsons Project
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Powerful Japan Earthquake
Because one Tectonic plate was sliding under the other plate
The powerful Japan earthquake shifted the earth's axis position
Deforming it and that temblor already had caused Earth to rotate
Faster than before when Hawaii reached these waves transmission.
This temblor may have affected the length of the Earth's days
So, each day may be quite two microseconds shorter than before.
Some parts of this country were moved twelve feet as scientists say,
The tremors sent a monster tsunami which slammed into the shore.
The aftershocks were rapidly continuing without decreasing in frequency
While a rupture near the boundary between those tectonic plates occured.
Usually, the Pacific plate slowly moves to westwards at a very low velocity.
This quake was caused by Pacific and American plates boundary rupture.
The dissipation of the heat from the mantle was a real source of energy
For Pacific plate thrusting underneath the Japan and Eurasia plate.
This drive of plate tectonics was possible because of the excess density,
'Cause lithosphere became dense by cooling until having a solid state.
The boundary between the Australian and Pacific tectonic plates
Are part of the 'Ring of Fire' and runs from south of Fiordland
Along the line of the Southern Alps, beneath wonderful Cook Strait,
Capital of Wellington, and out to sea through the eastern North Island.
A section of the prehistoric supercontinent Gondwana broke away
Eighty million years ago comprising a few slithers of land left to drift
Coalescing into a new continent, Zealandia, under the Southern sun's ray.
When magma heated continental crust above to crack open to form a rift.
Due to seismic activity, sea levels temporary fluctuated looking so glum
Zealandia sank beneath sea level letting New Zealand to be a remnant.
The pressure of opposing tectonic plates caused the Alpine Fault to come.
The Southern Alps rose above the water looking like the moon's crescent.
Earth's surface is recycled through the volcanic emission and subduction.
The quake can be caused by a rupture near the boundary between plates.
The causes are high the level of carbone dioxide and sometimes erosion,
But when the rupture is big, it can become a real monstruous Hell's gate.
The Pacific plate had thrusted underneath Japan and in a late,
It dipped beneath Eurasia plate and the earthquake occurred along
The subduction zone at the interface between those two tectonic plates.
Two thousands people died because the earthquake was very strong.
The Pacific plate moves usually westwards at a very slow velocity.
The boundary between the Pacific and Australian Plate runs broadly
Along New Zealand, where another quake occured with a strong ferocity,
While planet is on a one-way warming trend triggered by human activity.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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The Ardennes Forest
Cup your hands to scoop up sleep
as you would draw a grain of water
and the forest will come: a green cloud
a birch trunk like a chord of light
and a thousand eyelids fluttering
with forgotten leafy speech
then you will recall the white morning
when you waited for the opening of the gates
you know this land is opened by a bird
that sleeps in a tree and the tree in the earth
but here is a spring of new questions
underfoot the currents of bad roots
look at the pattern on the bark where
a chord of music tightens
the lute player who presses the frets
so the silent resounds
push away leaves: a wild strawberry
dew on a leaf the comb of grass
further a wing of a yellow damselfly
and an ant burying its sister
a wild pear sweetly ripens
above the treacheries of belladonnas
without waiting for greater rewards
sit under the tree
cup your hands to draw up memory
of the dead names dried grain
again the forest: a charred cloud
forehead branded by black light
and a thousand lids pressed
tightly on motionless eyeballs
a tree and the air broken
betrayed faith of empty shelters
that other forest is for us is for you
the dead also ask for fairy tales
for a handful of herbs water of memories
therefore by needles by rustling
and faint threads of fragrances--
no matter that a branch stops you
a shadow leads you through winding passages--
you will find and open
our Ardennes Forest
poem by Zbigniew Herbert
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Killer Whales
Come my friends give an ear to this tale
It's all about the ocean and the big black whales
They are humongous, and hardly seen
Unless you are submerged in a submarine
Their home is the ocean,
They swim to the depths
And can easily escape the fishermen nets
In books you must have read their tales,
They are sea monsters called Killer Whales
They use echolocation to communicate and hunt
At times when the come up, you can watch their stunts
They are black with a few spots of white
And swim the ocean at the speed of light
The feast on marine mammals, fish and seals
That makes for them a wonderful meal
Each whale weights six tons or more
And are mostly found on the ocean floor
The enjoy the ocean without any fear
The King of the seas, thrust up like a spear.
poem by Meena Mustafa
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The Red House
On the wide fields the water gleams like snow,
And snow like water pale beneath pale sky,
When old and burdened the white clouds are stooped low.
Sudden as thought, or startled near bird's cry,
The whiteness of first light on hills of snow
New dropped from skiey hills of tumbling white
Streams from the ridge to where the long woods lie;
And tall ridge-trees lift their soft crowns of white
Above slim bodies all black or flecked with snow.
By the tossed foam of the not yet frozen brook
Black pigs go straggling over fields of snow;
The air is full of snow, and starling and rook
Are blacker amid the myriad streams of light.
Warm as old fire the Red House burns yet bright
Beneath the unmelting snows of pine and larch,
While February moves as slow, as slow
As Spring might never come, never come March.
Amid such snows, by generations haunted,
By echoes, memories and dreams enchanted,
Firm when dark winds through the night stamp and shout,
Brightest when time silvers the world all about,
That old house called _The Heart_ burns, burns, and still
Outbraves the mortal threat of the hanging hill.
poem by John Freeman
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Sediments of life
Fresh and so curious
With purity and innocence,
What lies ahead, eager to know
As a stream we start to flow
Along this course down a hill
So many brooks of hope and vision
….of strength, dream and will
Conjoin as big river
Step ahead and flow further
In the course of life
This river is just young
Wild is its imagination
So strong, its ambition
Upwelling of its emotions
To secure a future, identity to define
Push the flow to rapids, down the valley to fly
The river of youth, went in speedy currents
On its way carried what was there on the earth
Down a deep gorge
As the water swiftly surge
Its strength at climax
Churn the drift to cataracts
In misty foam or a rainbow’s arc
The river leaves a benchmark
We as rivers, flow in currents
Posing on achievement and failure
Unfaltering and calm is the mid course river
Wide is its bank, serene its journey
As it steadily flows for legacy
On trails of time clays to imprint
To pass on layers of silt,
To witness its once existence,
It residues on the track of life
We as rivers, flow in currents
The long trip from its head
Through its voyage to recollect
At the last course, in the sunset
The river ponders on its sediment
At the mouth awaits the sea
As an outlet to infinity
And mistakes learned, toiled effort
Life of success, well travelled path
Enough sediments, brings about
Fertile ground to cultivate
A platform to reflect
Delta of life before the sea
Leaves the river to eternity…
Sediments of life to pile up
At the end since the start
Determined to move, if hope ever fails
The river ends without a trace
Through sieve of life, having no sift
The salty water the river meets
Rivers we are, to sediment in time
Flow in currents, life to define.
poem by Fasika Ayalew
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Mystic Journey: Earth 1
the moon is an immortal soul which breathes life
into the earth, and life, in its ebb and flow
waxes and wanes with breaths of seasons. to know
the moon's mind is to understand life on earth.
into the first full moon of the auspicious
Year of the Rooster you disappeared, into the
living dead of unconscious winter. the relentless
snow stretched like skin over lakes and fields
buried cold, bony ground in bright veil of ice.
ice was everywhere. the arteries of rivers
clotted, frozen air stuck in silver trees. sap
stored below ground, nature cocooned coma,
the lifeless world was timeless too the day they
packed thorsby* church. pale clouds crowded
like heavy canvas sack the bloodless sky,
dull gray sunlight drained from blank pupil.
all but a few black winter birds were fled.
a sun-streaked cat kept lip of the parish door.
friends flocked before your flowered casket.
a frocked minister stood behind the pulpit
intoning; all great feeling is grave. feelings
were expressed, and suppressed. families
gathered, then scattered. you, felled wood
robbed of root, dried grain bled of blood,
mirrored blood lines back. in death you
resembled your father; he, no doubt, his.
before you were born, you were: after your
death, you are. you became your ancestors.
*thorsby, alberta, canada
poem by Doug Bentley
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As Consequent, Etc.
AS consequent from store of summer rains,
Or wayward rivulets in autumn flowing,
Or many a herb-lined brook's reticulations,
Or subterranean sea-rills making for the sea,
Songs of continued years I sing.
Life's ever-modern rapids first, (soon, soon to blend,
With the old streams of death.)
Some threading Ohio's farm-fields or the woods,
Some down Colorado's cañons from sources of perpetual snow,
Some half-hid in Oregon, or away southward in Texas, 10
Some in the north finding their way to Erie, Niagara, Ottawa,
Some to Atlantica's bays, and so to the great salt brine.
In you whoe'er you are my book perusing,
In I myself, in all the world, these currents flowing,
All, all toward the mystic ocean tending.
Currents for starting a continent new,
Overtures sent to the solid out of the liquid,
Fusion of ocean and land, tender and pensive waves,
(Not safe and peaceful only, waves rous'd and ominous too,
Out of the depths the storm's abysmic waves, who knows whence? 20
Raging over the vast, with many a broken spar and tatter'd sail.)
Or from the sea of Time, collecting vasting all, I bring,
A windrow-drift of weeds and shells.
O little shells, so curious-convolute, so limpid-cold and voiceless,
Will you not little shells to the tympans of temples held,
Murmurs and echoes still call up, eternity's music faint and far,
Wafted inland, sent from Atlantica's rim, strains for the soul of the
prairies,
Whisper'd reverberations, chords for the ear of the West joyously
sounding,
Your tidings old, yet ever new and untranslatable,
Infinitesimals out of my life, and many a life, 30
(For not my life and years alone I give--all, all I give,)
These waifs from the deep, cast high and dry,
Wash'd on America's shores?
poem by Walt Whitman
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A Plank of Wood
A plank of wood,
Afloat on the Pacific;
A solitary body,
Buoyant in the greatest of blues;
Basking in the scorching sun;
Tumultuous yet inexplicably tranquil;
Amidst the raging currents;
Swayed by the ocean streams;
To an isle which lies;
Far beyond the immediate horizon.
A-kin, buoyant dreams,
Are carried by currents of destiny;
To lavish upon you;
A sunken treasure, buried,
Deep inside the sands of your destined isle;
In your journey, from calamitous depths,
To the arms of serendipity.
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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Rwanda 1994
The Kagera River rises in Burundi blue
It sweeps down from the highlands green.
But then why the river runs red?
Why does it look so sinister?
It hauls the bodies of the dead
Its currents carry your sister.
The Kagera River rises in Burundi green
It flows wild to Lake Victoria blue.
But then why the river runs red?
There is no change in the weather.
Yet on the waters float the dead
The currents carry your father.
The Kagera River rises in Burundi white
It drags trees and elephant grass green.
But then why the river runs red?
The day sunny like another.
Yet the streams tow and haul the dead
The currents carry your brother.
The Kagera River rises in Burundi blue
It flows through Rwandan gorges green.
But then why the river runs red?
Why does the village camp smother?
It hauls the corpses of the dead
The currents carry your mother.
poem by Paul Hartal
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Black and White (Stream XV)
I have black thoughts,
It is a black day,
A day when the black dog
Coal black, hovers at my shoulder.
I shoulder the burden.
Deep in the black hole.
Black as a black hearted night.
Negative.
Stark.
Black and white.
I do not call my good days white days.
Why?
Or have white thoughts
On a white day,
When the white dog
Pure white sits upon my shoulder.
Which is unburdened.
Out of the pit,
Luxuriating in the bright white light;
White as the purest snow.
Positive.
For we live in a too white world
Maybe we should have grey days,
And light days.
Why should Black be negative and White poitive?
For me then, today is a grey day.
Maybe tomorrow will be a light day.
Copyright P H Brookes 2012
poem by Paul Brookes
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My Back Pages
(dylan)
Crimson flames tied through my ears
Rolling high and mighty traps
Pounced with fire on flaming roads
Using ideas as my maps
Well meet again soon I said
? ? ? me heated brow
Ah but I was so much older then
Im younger than that now
Half ? ? ? prejudice leaped forth
Break down all hate I scream
Lies at ? is black and white
Spoke from my skull I dream
Romantic flanks of musketeers
Foundation deep somehow
Chorus
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beach Girl
BEACH GIRL
Beach girl, beach pearl -
I'll dive for you.
I'll weld into your swimmer's form.
Take off your wrap, reveal your tan
Close in the spectrum to the orange sand.
White costume iridescent -
Moon in sunlight.
I'll peel for you -
You find my body good; you make it great.
Flash black tingling on my hips
Our currents charged in sight.
Come take the plunge with me;
Let's match our thrusting limbs and muscles;
Let's arch and stretch in our exuberance;
Let's dive into a clinch.
We'll sunbathe, see our second element
Rise into vapour.
In premonition of a tidal wave
We'll peel our costumes down,
Reveal raw beauty, fuse into each other.
Your half-man muscles matching my deep thrust
Turned feminine delicate at your edges,
By your edges.
And time waits, breathless as we come;
In love we are the ocean,
All currents, eddies, tides and whirlpools -
We are the real fire water!
David Russell
poem by David Russell
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The Globtik Tokyo
Great oil companies they paid,
Ishikawajima laid
For a mighty ship a keel,
Built her out of solid steel.
Big as supertankers go
was the Globtik Tokyo,
Length twelve hundred feet or so,
was the Globtik Tokyo.
Fifty thousand horse power geared,
Through the ocean's waters sheared.
Sixteen knots her speed at top,
Took three miles for her to stop.
Half a million tons displaced,
Engineers a problem faced:
This the largest ship on Earth,
For repairs where would she berth?
On the globe there was no slip
That would take this super ship;
They must build a giant dry dock,
So men planned around the clock.
Who would have the expertise?
Who would this great challenge seize?
Men who'd built the Snowy Scheme;
Men who weren't afraid to dream.
At the Sembawang shipyard,
Six thousand men toiling hard.
Re-bar tied and concrete poured,
The great walls, upward they soared.
Tons of concrete still they pour;
Six feet thick the dry dock floor.
On a thousand piles it sits,
Driven deep by mighty hits.
Built by Theiss and Petrosea;
Filled with water from the sea.
In sails the great ship in turn;
Fits so neat from stem to stern.
Thirty feet she takes of draught;
Open up the culvert shaft.
Drain the water level low;
They've slipped - the Globtik Tokyo.
poem by Dennis N. O'Brien
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Racism,
Racism
Racism all great foolishness to those that perish,
Black and White,
God the Master Plan for flesh and blood,
Ain't nobody telling me black and white hast that distinguish,
In my own understanding,
History is a Beauty of Humanity to live and to see,
The simple life we lead,
So short and hard by our own making,
What is the basics of racism?
Like Nietchze said,
We are the gods to wash the earth,
If we kill the black or white,
When will we see the power of God in us,
Since a power of god is revealed in man,
Let us see the earthly volition as Dynamic,
Half and half,
We all are people that share the same earth,
This planet is so Beautiful,
Whilst many waste time saying of racist,
That power will fade,
But love in secret will never perish,
Love hast that unlimited,
No half missing,
Most intellects be half missing,
But to release the burden of racism,
Let's all improve on our character,
That the positive vibe's may make the Sword increase,
Love is power of the Word,
All race one,
All blood from same brothers and sisters,
Can't you see that you can never fathom all the secrets of the world?
If we all say we all know,
Surely we all say that we all insane.
poem by Maxpoet Beauty
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