Poem: The Beautiful Chef

cauldron-of-the-sorceress-1879

How can I

Take this sorrow

This pain

This agony

And turn it

Into something

Beautiful?

I set the cauldron bubbling

And, climbing in

I take off my skin

My organs

My limbs

My bones

All of my memories

All of my experiences

I take them off

And throw them into

That bubbling morass

Churning it into

A milky froth

I see all of the pain

Of a million lifetimes

Horrifyingly distilled

Into a fetid ooze

The kind of maleficent syrup

Sadistic Victorians

Would feed to their children

I turn up the heat

And wait for my soul to scald

Waiting for the vajras

Waiting for the diamonds

And waiting for the body

That knows no body

But I feel helpless

Hopeless

And ignorant

I need a professional chef

Who will know just how

To prepare me

Season me

Cook me

Please

Let me be a tasty dish

That the universe will want to consume

 I want so much

To be a part of everything again

To be one with everything again

Instead of feeling

Like a despicable morsel

No one would want to eat

Let alone smell

I need help

I need a culinary expert

Who knows

How to tame the spirit

And make it sacred

Because at the moment

In this loving demon’s arms

I simply do not know how

To make this rotting dish

Beautiful

At all

 

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POEM: For The Love of Saturn

confusion

I am being crushed

Oppressed by the weight

Of this unknowing feeling

This uncertain

And diabolically confusing

Transformation

I would die

Just for a chance

To look into your eyes

And taste your lips

To have my true identity

Finally understood

Who sent you here?

What sleeve of the universe

Did you slide gracefully out of?

Together at last

After so many timeless aeons

What proof can I offer you

To convince you of the truth

Behind my madness?

Gnosis to gnosis

Mind to mind

Humans are such ignorant beings

Everything moves so slowly here

But always too fast

In the places where it counts the most

Always quick to destroy

And slow to change

Feeding the piranhas

And starving the homeless

How can I convince you

Of what I don’t even understand?

 

Poem: Descent into The Atrocious Palace of Yamantaka

YamYam

Heaven and Hell

Are exactly the same

It just all depends

Whether you let the flames

Heal you

Or destroy you

Though they must destroy you

Before they can begin to heal you

I descend into

The Hall of Abominations

Climbing up –

So many heaps of corpses

So many heaps of gold

Desolate gongs

Throng with oscillations

Cleaving the air

Into merciless ripples

Reaching the inglorious throne room

Yamantaka

The Father of Deathlessness

Bathes in a corona of atrocity

Cleansing himself in the scalding flames

Whilst ravenously merging with

His hideous consort

Swimming, mouth open

Through galaxies and galaxies of blood

My transformation is incomplete

But insanely exquisite

Sitting down at the table

I eat Sunday Lunch with my parents

As though nothing has happened

Knowing I will return

When my heart mantra sings