Friday, January 28, 2011

The Beast c) Orandon

The Beast

A simple white rose,

a box of shining seeds;
before I knew these
I was losing hope.

was a raging disease
eating into the core of this place...

There was a time
in ancient days
when many beings of every race
walked upon this ground...
Giants, ogres, witches...
Magicians, fairies, and elves,
as well as humans
unique unto themselves.

A human Prince
who in his youth sought an alliance -
could not unite them
in defiance.

He was a young man
who would be ruler of the land,
yet even he
refused the hand
of one who found him vain.

And so, he was cursed -
and it was
the Beast that he became.

His body, mind and castle
are this enchanted place...

"For you must keep the Secret!
And never reveal what happened
to your original face...
Or what you need, or feel
until a day when
Beauty finds you
and loves you back
to being real.
And all you know
shall be frozen in time
secluded in your heavy skins
until you change your mind."

Tricks of enchantment
anchored me into his world;
heart and hands torn and bleeding
pushing past the thorns
around his soul.

He was kind... And did his best
to put a common ground beneath my feet -
but he was a Beast
who could not sit and eat -
a wild thing, who had to learn
to hunt for sustenance;
his food, his meat.

Accepting his fate and anger,
he never showed his fears;
instead his feelings flooded through me
as confused and angry tears.

For anger is a mystery
dividing those
struggling to see
how it happens, they are apart.
And yet I know His eyes... Are my eyes
His mouth, my lips;
His heart... My heart.

This is our common ground;
a simple rose, a box of seeds
thorns piercing each and every wound...
This all must be allowed,
like some spiritual crucifixion,

Where pain and anger are dissolved,
transformation can begin
a new resolve;
a self-realization,
allowing the spiritual in.
Burning away such curses
to let two new loves grow...
Such Beauty, these white roses...
Bursting through the snow.

c) Orandon Marie 1/28/11

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Immanence & Transcendence (sadomasochism)

Immanence & Transcendence

We're only acquainted through games...
Of ripping and stripping
You call it Slash and Slash Back.
Slash and slash and slash and slash...
(Who's getting cut, really?)

I call it Smoke and Mirrors.
Blow smoke in my face, I hold up a mirror.
I blow smoke in your face, you slash.
Some call it Snakes and Ladders;
A toss of the dice.

Knock me down a notch, I'll crawl up your ass.
I knock you down;
do you continue to slash?

Spiritual games of tension...
Between immanence and transcendence.


I am a Child of God
and God is immanent in me.
When I'm functioning as a healer,
that's between God and I.
You can't touch this.

Haunted Hallway


is a haunted hallway
of dist0rted mirrors.

Saturday, January 22, 2011



you or i
have little
(if any) control
our lives
a series of happenings
chalk it off
as one more reckoning

forget about
normal patterns
we're just
jackin' it up

founding a friendship
in fits
and starts, so illegit -
there's nothing
to be DONE
about it

no matter how we talk or shout
about it

too remote to impose
we lose
knowing there's NEVER any
fucking closure

forget about
the "normal" patterns
we're just
jackin' it up

always in
without a formal graduation
pushing-up deep
unacknowledged need
like some abhorrent garbage heap

you're right
it's only private greed

like heaven and earth
the answers always
when nothin's left to say

forget about
the "normal" patterns
we're just
jackin' it up

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Peroxide Suicide

Peroxide Suicide

No amount of peroxide can keep a man from being a tyrant.

(But then, perhaps he's not a real man.)

Loud yelling, screaming and abusive language
have a way of forcing the listener to push her identity way down.
Is it then any wonder
a woman would resort to drug-use
and/or suicide?

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

At the Ends of the Universe - Egyptian Book of the Dead, Chapter 55

At the ends of the Universe
is a blood-red cord that ties life to death,
man to woman, will to destiny.
Let the knot of that red sash,
which cradles the hips of the goddess,
bind in me
the ends of life and dream.

I'm an old man
with more than my share of hopes and misgivings.
Let my thoughts lie together in peace.
At my death, let the bubbles of blood
on my lips
taste as sweet as berries.
Give me not words of consolation.

Give me magic, the fire of one beyond
the borders of enchantment.
Give me the spell of living well.

Do I lie on the floor of my house, or within the temple?

Is the hand that soothes me
that of wife or priestess?
I rise and walk.
The sky arcs ever around, the world spreads itself
beneath my feet.
We are bound...
Mind to Mind, Heart to Heart -
no difference rises between
the shadow of my footsteps and the Will of God.

I walk in harmony,
heaven in one hand, earth in the other.
I am the knot where two worlds meet.
Red magic courses through me
like the blood of Isis,
magic of magic, spirit of spirit.
I am proof
of the power of gods.
I am water and dust...

-The Knot of Isis, Chapter 55

The Egyptian Book of the Dead
Translation by Normandi Ellis