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The Corona of the Sun
Is everlasting

The Corona of the virus
Is a temporary crown on a knight of disease

The black light of this fell Corona
Is made of dust and tears and ash
It will fall when the next wind blows

The Corona of the Eternal
Will outlast and outlive

The pain is only temporary
As, too, our spirits will outlast

We will outlive
For we are mirrors of the Corona
Of Glory
George Krokos Nov 2019
I listen to the wind
as it blows past my ears
to sense that it whispers
from afar some new cheers
that I've been expecting
for a while to receive
and to tell me plainly
without words to deceive,

I humbly bow my head
in a true spirit of
gratitude which conveys
a deep feeling of love
for the One who does seem
to be always close by
no matter where we be
dissolving fears that try.

I somehow know that all
will be well at the end
of one's life journey which
has been lived to contend
with those things that decry
people's efforts to live
honestly by the truth
and are able to give.

I consider the past
that we have all been through
and has brought us here now
for the present time view
which leads to the future
showing us many paths
we cannot all follow
but have their aftermaths.

I look inside my mind
at the darkness to see
the light of my spirit
that comes at times to me
recognising the state
of my soul reflecting
on the outer life lived
but which needs directing.

I am very grateful
to the unseen power
that is a source of help
in hard times to shower
benevolence and grace
when futility reigns
and hopelessness is what
for some life here pertains.

I embrace all of life
with the wonders it has
and ours for the seeking
though they must be seen as
belonging to us all
without attachment to
a selfish attitude
when they're found by a few.
____
Written late in 2018.
Bede Sep 2019
To re-mystify, here's what i mean:
Imagine a well planned out, ancient scene
Imagine the Druids all clothed in white
Waving their staves, a pure, wondrous sight

Can you smell the fire burning?
Can you hear the kettle turning?
Can you see the embers rising on high?

Can you hear all the chanting?
The rhythmic drum bashing?
This is what i mean: Re-Mystify!

Bring back the comradery
Of dancing round, fondly,
A fire that's meant for a king!

Take all of your friends
And tie all of your ends
May the mystical triumph ascend!
Bring back the righteous, the virtuous, the dancing ways! Even virtuous pagans can be saved, if not, we'll learn from their dances!
Aisha Zakhael Aug 2019
Who are you?

I am not a vessel;
woman, poet, coloured,
they are only covers.

Who are you?

I am not any of those titles.
You force me to knit a name
from parts of worn clothes
to avoid your own face
in the mirror.

Who are you?

The love in your veins.
The liquour of life -
like water I mold
into shapes, but
I am without form.

Who are you?

You.
A soul.
Justin Aptaker Aug 2019
how can i afford the cure?
the cure is my disease
how can i speak with words still pure?
my doctor poisons me
yet will i laud
and make it
soft
the words of the wise
are plainly lost
Written ca. 2011
Justin Aptaker Aug 2019
like koans
halting in their tracks
your logical thought
processes like a train, black and long
when it runs in a padded room
small, silent, white
Written ca. 2006
Justin Aptaker Aug 2019
the angel called out to me
Recite!
But I said,
"what will I recite with these unclean lips? "

So the angel ripped my larynx
out of my throat
and set it on fire
until it burned to ashes

then I began to recite
Written ca. 2014
Justin Aptaker Aug 2019
i and i wept
by the waters of Knoxville
remembering Zion
repatriation, what a notion
slowly, we came to our senses

the brave new world
closing in around us
we sought our refuge
at the doors of perception

timothy leary and
Marcus Garvey
were on a bad trip
together one day
when it began to snow outside
like grace
from heaven, falling
i was there with them
the angel of death

my thanatalivity
is all i know now
i will make it
to the end
Written ca. 2012
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