(untitled)#60

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walking cobbled streets

grown from Templar’s founding – now

echo with their ghosts

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ancient towns standing

testament to existence

buildings as headstones

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which ones shall we slay –

will god recognise his own

let his will be done

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is not mother church

a place of refuge – so lies

each genderless body

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even now decay

models durability –

our impermanence

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Now a modern city of ~ 75,000 people, the Massacre of Beziers took place in Languedoc, France, in 1209 A.D. The city was sacked by crusades against the ‘heretic’ Cathars and accounts suggest up to 20,000 were put to the sword.

Churches were broken open and those that had sought refuge were slain – up to 7,000 in the Church of St. Magdalene. The crusaders did not respect the supposed inviolable sanctity of church ground.

It is alleged that when asked how to recognise the heretics from the townsfolk, the Abbot replied ‘kill them all – god will recognise his own’.

Rather than God and Satan, Cathars considered that perhaps there were two gods – one good, one bad. The papal church viewed this as Satanism. The Cathars viewed the humans as the encapsulated souls of genderless angels. Perhaps they were right for the subject of sex returns to plague the modern day Church.

We shall never know their true beliefs as Catharism was destroyed along with most of its relics and works and their religion likely forms the root of the word ‘catharsis’ – to discharge pent-up emotions, probably from the torture that was used to encourage the betrayal of friends and family, a lack of zeal for which was considered to be a lack of commitment for the One True Church – or to expunge a problem.

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(untitled)#58

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oh – don’t miss a beat

my heart of glass – fragile!

encapsulated

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plants remaining still

while all about lay strewn

fallen petals – shards

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oh sky overhead –

where is heaven for flowers

seven colours meld

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falling from the sky

rinsing spectra from the clouds

to lie upon snow

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snowflakes upon snow –

trails I once walked – blanketed

run-ways to the stars

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(untitled)#57

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with a lantern search

the gloom of this world – darker

for a deathless me

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behind a black veil

a life-full of dark secrets

will you choose: I do

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an arranged marriage

will we make an old couple

wedded to this world

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dew to quench the fire

shall I ever be alone

do not fear to leave

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in this shadow world –

this nether-nether land –

is there still magic?

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Contributed to the haiku-heights theme: Dusk Continue reading

The Darker

Photograph of the Moon through Pine trees at night

the moon through pine trees

In the sun you do not see me,
standing where your shadow falls
In the night you cannot hear me
although in silence blackness calls.
In the darkness, see the starlight
not visible in day
and in the realm of opal moonlight
rest you – by the window stay.
A fool is what people would call me
a master of deceit and lie
as real as your blackest nightmares
only gentler come whistling by.
In the breeze my weak flame sputters
casting dark, on dark, the night:
but in the gloom can stand – aphotic
so that you can see the light.

A New Reality

The problem was that the problem was here

sometimes not so bad, but now quite severe:

that usually, on waking, in the early morning,

I would wait for hours for the day to start dawning.

It would stare me right-back in the face from the mirror:

pale-faced and black-eyed but still looking for cheer –

and irises blue – sky blue – still full of hope,

but then back along the long hall to bed would I grope.

But as I try to retreat, the room that I’m in

suddenly moves and jars – starts to whirl and spin:

I reach out for the wall – but the wall isn’t there –

my fingers reach hopelessly, strafing the air.

Reality blackens and beginning to stall

through a hole in the floor that wide opens – I fall!

It matters now, not, which reality I’m from –

for the world that I was in – and all in it – has gone:

and the new, darkened, reality – this seething black bin

reeks of evil and monsters all crawling with sin.

Here I’ll fight to survive, whilst I look for a door

that will bring my consciousnous back to the world-from-before

and back to the body that lies, still, in the hall

where it lays empty and lifeless and cold from the fall

but that meat is unwelcoming – for my heart has now stopped –

so from here to another plane-of-existence I hop.

From one world, then, to another, a new reality I leap –

but the wisdom I find in each place shall I keep,

and finally bringing it back from the distance I range,

I know only this: this world has to change!