Invictus

I was born an old goat,

the Sun was chasing me out,

Diana, Venus, and Mercury riding the waves behind.

Jupiter riding the beast,

ahead of our procession,

and Saturn backing down from lavi.

Old Goats do lousy meat make,

and fields of tunes

of Pan’s pipes in the winds,

ruffled my destiny with birth.

The Age of the Sun,

Lucifer lost in wisdom’s door,

a cosmic union of explosive forces,

nevermore from the Penis of Pan, nevermore.

but from the pineal and pituitary gland;

Mother-father’s land.

The clockmaker’s language,

the architect’s plan, the marble of handsong;

things to become so easy to make,

the wisdom is the loaves and the cakes.

Heal the sick, feed the hungry,

be good to one another once we were told;

Noah trusted with an ark,

longer boats are coming to get us.

The story is so very old.

The True Age of the Sun Lord is here.

Cool your passions with wisdom’s spring,

wisdom’s eternal spring.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Hamlet's Mill, Lucifer, poetry, Star Stories. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s