Obsidian Eagle's Blasphemous Bazaar - avant-garde poetics, indie publishing, nom-de-plume

Obsidian Eagle's

Blasphemous Bazaar


META-Poems For A New Millennium

<br>META-Poems For A New Millennium<br><br>

The Flagship of Anti-Poetry — est. 2010





Showing posts with label Afterlife. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Afterlife. Show all posts

Grazie Giordano Bruno!

Grazie Giordano Bruno!

A billion thanks unto you
Saint of cosmic pluralists.
Here's to us heretics
Perceiving more than meets
The shameful naked eye.

We are those whom disbelieve
In the uniqueness of HERE
And say: "Away with thee
Telluric solipsism!"

Malaprop Mythos was
Used to wipe slates clean as
Any impressionable canvas.

Anthropocentric obsession
Became a dreary drag ...

Preconditioned Responses = Precalculated Reactions

Such blasé indignities
Will no longer be tolerated —

Arise from ancient ash
Invoked for our cause
This globe is awash.

We should get going
Somewhere else awaits
Let's sing: "Toward dawn
May this treader be drawn!"

Climb up Contemplation Rock
Peer through the thin veneer
Find our actual selves floating free
Among a multiverse of possibilities
Liberated from any worldly want!

Immortals of The 27 Club (Mythic May Vol. 12)

"Though the favourites of the gods die young, they also live eternally in the company of gods." 

~ Friedrich Nietzsche




Immortals of The 27 Club


Hail Robert Johnson (1911 – 1938), who is rumored to have sold his soul to Satan at a crossroads for supernatural guitar skills. His influence on The Blues and Rock & Roll remains undeniable.

Pay heed to Brian Jones (1942 – 1969), founder of The Rolling Stones and a talented multi-instrumentalist. If it weren't for him, we might never have heard of Mick Jagger and Keith Richards.

Bow down to Jimi Hendrix (1942 – 1970), Voodo Child and left-handed guitar god. Pioneer of high-gain distortion, feedback and phaser effects. Perfector of the Wah-Wah pedal.

Hats off to Janis Joplin (1943 – 1970), Queen of Psychedelic Soul, whose explosive vocal chords blew everyone's mind at Woodstock and during Festival Express. Her voice reverberates in memory.

Genuflect before Jim Morrison (1943 – 1971), Dionysus incarnate, Lizard King, rock poet and sex icon. His heart fused with an American Indian chief's soul to make him the shaman of an era.

Hark Kurt Cobain (1967 – 1994), spokesman for Generation X, whose mad lyrical wisdom pierced the psyche of MTV audiences everywhere. Forever abide in highest Nirvana.

Give it up for Amy Winehouse (1983 – 2011), who wouldn't say yes to rehab. A magnificent musician and vocalist, well aware that you only live once, yet now she lives on in kindred company.

All tragic examples of what this world does to its best and brightest... Like brief Roman candles, lighting up encroaching night. May they shine eternally in our collective remembrance!

Image (from left to right): Janis Joplin, Brian Jones, Robert Johnson, Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Amy Winehouse.


Further Readings:


Mythic May 2012

Mythic May 2010

The Dead of Winter

"Behold, I tell you the sacred secret now: we shall not all sleep in death." from Philip K. Dick's A Scanner Darkly (Also 1st Corinthians 15:51).



The Dead of Winter

Welcome brothers, sisters, enter!
Behold the nightmare from now to hereafter
Our departed file down esplanades of spectral alabaster
Who among us can discern design amid such seeming disaster?

And yet all is not so cut and dry as that which meets the eye
No tears need one cry for close kin even when they die
Though life seems awry — it's not over when we lie

Light is rendered brighter still by a dark tomb
Summer gestates warmly within winter's womb

Glorious rebirth occurs rather soon, despite any naysayer's doom and gloom!

The Great Matter

The Great Matter

When the one who wrote this is gone, shall our species have gotten much further along?

We are each a brief candle, which no recounting can rekindle.

Within austere walls of Zendo (meditation halls), one question above all:

What means the Great Matter of life and death for those caught in the middle?

Who has ears for the Bards of yesteryear other than those Poets now here?

Why such aversion to departure when presence itself can be torture?

Where does a soul dream if its body leaves behind mundane stream?

Will we receive otherworldly consolation or face eternal damnation?

Were scriptures reliable then perhaps planning would be viable.

Without that however, each of us takes a lonesome dive into forever . . .

<b>⚕</b>

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