Mind
You don’t hurt it
By doing in your brain
Lessed you should stress
Over
Slow-ing
Flowing flowing
S-low-ing
Flowingflowingflowing
Sl…
Owing
For all your life
Someone, something, summing
Up whole selves till
(nothing)
Gro-Wing
Showing sHOWing
GRRRR-Owing!
SHOWING! SHOWING! SHOWING!
(Shh)…
Over
And above duty
When ALL has become STILL
(Must be out of your)
Mind.
© Tony Atkinson, 2010
Here’s my tongue-in-cheek response to Wes’ Sucellus
which made me wonder what it would be like to be Sucellus’ partner, Nantosuelta. Sooo… A Celtic God and Goddess go on a first date –
When Sucellus first came to me, a mighty hammer hefted he
“Your symbol is a pallusy” I quipped, “unless you wield it expertly.”
He winked, I blinked. He stripped: bare as butter with a beard.
“Drink?” My patera, being wet, I proffered nicely, when shyly
he paused, “You’ll have to put down the bees,” he breathed.
“Why?” Queried I, “For my honey-drizzled hive provides remedy
for happenstances occurred by the raven ‘neath my left knee.”
He blinked, I winked. He bit his lip: bold as barley’s grizzled ears
“I have been down below, before!” He scored, ‘My olla stores my seed!”
Wildly he splashed his chest, libation, lubrication, all of mead
– and so wildly did we do the deed, that from us each rose galaxies.
********
patera – ‘a broad, shallow dish used for drinking, primarily in a ritual context such as a libation’
olla – ‘a round pot’
Solstice Fire
In deep waters of solstice
beneath the sun’s fire
you will bathe
Between lake velvet surface
and epiphany of sky
lay yourself wide,
like a calm sacrifice
float so precisely between worlds
on the hairline crack of
crepuscular dusk and star shattered night.
Our lady of the lake
will tend your flame
on this day of alchemical light.
Who will bathe with her?
Who will bathe with her?
You who wander barefoot, lonely;
wayfarers of Life’s innner sanctum
You who traverse the furthermost shores
of soul that won’t sleep
heart that won’t die
rising and fading with midsummer sun,
leaving and returing with the
turning of the wheel.
Step bone naked into her waters
lagoon blue and virginal
bathe until splayed
to love’s tender cosmology
and the scrutiny of stars
As her burning sun, globe of white-fire
hits the water, alchemising the deep
bathe and submurge in the sweet elixier
newborn emerge
baptised of face
And sing in new worlds,
dream lost horizons
cultivate this harvest of light –
paradise regained!
wholeness reclaimed!
The birth of the searchless,
the fruit of our earth’s quest.
The coming of age.
These are the lyrics to the song “Twilight Zone” which we played at the Gorsedh Final night. It is about how, as children, we think we can communicate telepathically with our closest friends and/or loved ones. Do we unlearn this sort of ability or did we never really have it in the first place? I have seen enough in my life to believe that children are psychic and receptive to extraordinary stimuli in ways that most adults never are…:
Even as I sit here
Yes, I hear, I hear you call
And even though I wonder why
It feels so wonderful;
Even though it sounds strange
I almost see the invisible
And even though we’re far apart
It’s not so impossible…
Chorus
SCREAM AND SHOUT –
JUST LET IT OUT –
I WANT THE WORLD TO KNOW!
SHOUT AND SCREAM
AND I WILL SEE YOU
IN THE TWILIGHT ZONE;
WE TOUCHED WHERE NO-ONE EVER TOUCHED BEFORE
AND NOW I KNOW
NO MATTER WHERE WE ARE,
WE’LL TOUCH THE STARS,
I’LL MEET YOU
IN THE TWILIGHT ZONE…
Even as we tumble
No-one else can hear us fall
And even though we’re screaming
We’re still barely audible;
Even if we’re dreaming
It’s still unexplainable
And even as we breathe
We share the unbelievable…
© Tony Atkinson
You maidens with thistle-down blown in your hair
Fiery-eyed sisters, travellers fair
Blown a long lonely distance, to lands strange and wide
Searching for happiness, seeking to hide
From a heart torn and troubled, from the justice of fools
From a life with no passion, where the chained spirit crawls
Pulled onward forever, by invisible thread
And the dreams of new wonders that dance in your head
Adventure may wait just beyond every hill
As you reach the next valley, it calls to you still
Or simply to roam on the mother’s green land
Without care or confinement by any man’s hand
To idly wander, to go and to come
To talk to the trees and to answer to none
To find the way back to original freedom
Eve walks all alone now, returning to Eden
So come my dear sisters, come tell me your tales
I’ll keep them all safe ’till the last sunbeam pales
‘Till the light fades and dies, on the very last day
Within me the myth of each sister shall stay
From these stories I’ll spin strands of wisdom to bind us
When our souls wander lost to connect and remind us
So come wandering hither and rest by my side
Round the warmth of my fire life’s hardships confide
Tell to me true of the journey’s unfolding
Speak softly of sadness you’re wearily holding
Tell gladly of sweet twists and turns in the path
Of happy encounters, and together we’ll laugh
Between every soul common threads we will see
And I’ll stroke your tired head, as it rests on my knee
And soon you will know that no fate need be feared
When you feel yourself one
With the Web of the Wyrd
