poetry

The Blue Eye Of Man. {poetry}

Medusa is my middle name;

Mary Magdalene,

my maiden.

When a man shall

meet me in the middle,

He will find his place

in heaven.

No longer will

the Dead Sea Scrolls

part far from you,

her wisdom.

For the Blue Eye of Man

hath opened now,

such excuses

are forbidden.

There is no time,

you think he’s there,

yet you play

him as a slave.

And now time left

you’re your coddled heart.

Your jaded bed is made.

It’s not my work,

to make you see

that you’re no less

than a King.

For still you lay

in painted sheets,

cutting feathers

from your wings.

Rise, young Jack,

and see my sun

shine down

upon your shield.

Your weapons here

no longer serve.

Thy kingdom,

ye shall wield.

And if you turn

unto the night,

beware her

awesome power.

For darkness

is my own

best friend,

but to you,

she may

taste sour.

Chew you down through

throat and bone.

She’ll smoke you

like a blunt.

To face the night

you must be strong,

not a running,

coward runt.

And yet you play her,

just like time,

Bending music-strings

to suit your

parasitic pleasures.

You’ll laugh and joke

just like the Jack,

who thinks it’s all a game

to play black-magick,

at such petty costs

to only boost your name.

Or perhaps you want

to numb yourself,

and dumb down

the angry dunce,

who deeply knows

there is so much more,

yet your soul

is out to lunch.

Dark things tied

your wrists ’round back

and you simply said,

“Give me more of

that poppy drink,

and Master,

I shall be your slave.”

The tools are there

to save your life,

but you fear

and spit at freedom!

For you know it not,

and so you hide

just like a doll,

a little weakling.

Drink the drink,

and let it roll.

What harm could

my loss do?

And yet the snake-like

demon race,

awaits your

stupid moves.

They’ll jump inside

your dunce-like crown.

Make a prostitute muse,

of you.

So how can I call you King,

Young Jack?

When such rumors

have been told,

that you run ’round

backwards hiding swords,

my gangsters saw,

you stole.

Real men light fires

to melt the metal,

and bend it to their will.

They treat war

as an art, with grace,

then use their

swords to kill.

For in me,

you saw a glimpse

of something foreign,

something strange.

You saw that I am

what you want,

but Want,

is a fool’s game.

I am a seer,

a Queen,

young Jack.

Your world

is but

my playpen.

I come down here

to teach, expand.

There’s nothing here

I’m missing.

If only your

Blue Eye was awake,

your wisdom,

oaken-carved,

you’d see I might

Light the path

that leads you

home with heart.

These laws

are what they are,

false sir,

so awaken,

as you will.

I’ll be there waiting,

in serpent shadows

until this earth,

you till.

For I cannot

make it rain

again to nourish

this parched land,

until your phallic power

stands to hold

my feline hand.

Fear not,

a wounded lion-heart

that sits upon thy nave.

The sight doth give me

powers great,

enough to keep

your fears at bay.

They call you King.

They give you gold.

And yet you cower

in the light.

And war will wage

of truth and rage,

but, the King

shall know his right.

And in this

battle for control

over eons of wandering time,

I know your Dark Lord,

well, indeed,

and I’ll tell you

he knows mine.

He’ll say to cage me,

and my sisters,

wrapping nymphet mouth

shut tight.

For he senses my power

is greater than yours.

Yes, a King shall know his right!

And in your scaly,

sick endeavor to conquer

all so dear and holy,

you’ve mistaken me

again, young Jack,

for someone

quite less worthy.

I pray you do not

teach again

what fathers

taught their sons.

How will it change

unless you walk

through the darkest

of your toils,

of your own long night’s

baby breath, and then into

Glory’s spoils?

Ah, to sew your

heart right back

into the colored fabric

of all life,

will take a needle sharp,

enough to puncture

past your strife.

But let it burn

and sting and bleed,

for you cannot stop the tide,

I told you once that

time is gone,

Now King,

open your Blue Eye.

The mother, sister,

wife and her blood,

your daughter’s sweet breath too,

awaits in Kali’s shadows, dears,

until you make

your move.

Holding still,

Great Mother’s world,

with muscles clenched

so tight,

my jaw has trembled,

grinding teeth,

just to make it all, alright.

Indigo eyes, please open

and be brave enough to see,

that sweet flower petals

may grow weary,

weakening your

daughter’s knees.

Stand with me.

All Privates.

Parts. Pricks. Pieces.

Hold together,

what could be truth.

For the Blue Eye of Man

hath opened now,

but it takes both me

and You.

*****

KalisaAugustineKalisa Augustine is a certified Crystal Light Bed Practitioner trained in Intuitive Communication, Mediumship, Sound Healing, Crystal Release Therapy, Soul Retrieval, Chromeo Therapy, Magnet Therapy & Spirit Attachment, with a focus on the curation of energetic flow and harmony. As a natural healer in New York City, Kalisa uses a combination of vibrational therapies and shamanic technique to balance the multidimensional body and purify the energy system. Kalisa is trained to teach Kundalini Yoga and Meditation via Golden Bridge in NYC, and studied Toltec and European Shamanism via the Toltec Center of Creative Intent in Austin, Texas. She currently lives in Brooklyn, NY with her daughter Helena. Through her work and lifestyle as a single mother, feminist, shaman, writer and entrepreneur, Kalisa hopes to replace what is perceived as ‘mysticism’ with knowledge. When mysticism is replaced with knowledge, fear is dispelled, and we are more open to the power of healing.

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