Haikus - Pure & Daughter of Christ

PURE

The warmth of welcoming

And walking into oneself

Waves made of flames

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DAUGHTER OF CHRIST

Fucking fickle

I forgive and love thee

All the more for spurning me

A building called 'Inventory' (after a theme in 'Heaven's Mirror' by Graham Hancock)

A soup made of ash

A Burn of recyclable papers and cardboards

Down at the bottom of the garden

The embers stirred reveal the sign, the answer:

A labyrinth

A ritual in the suburbs

Dog barkings in the suburbs

The flicker of television incandescence through curtains

Ritual summer insect pissings and fuck juices dripping out of trees

I dodge their puddles on this night walk down to beach

To see the sky of stars uninterrupted

Every ritual needs be marked with the meaningless sucking 

Upon cigarette 

And so I threw my pride and my envy

Into the waves - those two twitching,

Fake silver rings that never fit me -

To make room for Grace and Fierce Kindness

And I didn’t take any hostages,

No mementoes witness to this.

I’m probably wearing the jersey of a dead woman

Here in this everlasting ancient moment of cacafonic,

Globalised, gifted-on potlatch ceremony.  

Everything’s falling apart in order to come together again.

Everything:

I am in absolute, astonished awe of you.

The dance of machines, the sentimentality of meat bodies,

And all these other abstract things to hold on to inside

The cult of the beautiful;

Spiritual ideas, chicken - and - egg conundrums and debates

That urge us on upstream against all the odds;

The tools we seek, ask for, and find,

Like Grace.

Like Akashic records of you held in the code of the blood of you,

Everything, Us;

And those tools:

The enigma code breakers to guide us in 

The deciphering of your languages

As though we could know you from 

within our world, Your Machine,

With a certainty that your mysteries could be apprehended -

Art, music, poetry and prayer,

Then 

Grace.

To sleep, then!

And dream.

The only true reality

This peopled world is threaded through

With those who’d tell you what to do

And what not to,

Push-me-pull-you’s

Trying to be owls of noble wisdom,

Flaunting opinions as though 

They were pieces of sacred knowledge,

As though this were the only true reality

And its furthest lengths and depths 

Had been explored and plowed for information

And fully understood,

As though humans were the only Lifeform

Of any consequence

Here

And, by extension,

The entire universe.

As though it had always been this way.

Haiku | for change

In order for the New to take hold

Space needs be made.

So: out, the Old!