emerging visions

Want to know more? Please e-mail me at: libramoon42@mindspring.com
(I would be happy to email you poems from time to time)

I would love to discuss speculative fiction and occult topics Seers and Seekers

 


Go forth in infinite beauty and wonder
Go forth into the magic of multi-layered possibilities
Go forth into the future you choose to create
May this new millennium usher in the golden age of peace.

  




Season of Light - 5 Solstice Songs for 2007 

 

hurricane like a hurricane like a natural disaster wind and rain laying waste to my life. tossed, torn, left astray and a stranger in the way, or at least not the norm. a sad wastrel left adrift in the storm. sing my wanderers' song tonight. let the wind carry my fading melody off onto wind-whipped ports of call. my breath's been carried out to sea nothing left to become of me once the hurricane has passed into the day the foggy, rainy day . . . I gaze upon the ragged sea.

pronoia prayer

poem(s) of the day

(some days are longer than others)

It was a warm and windy day, bittersweet in springtime, the trees, newly leaved, swayed in the warm, sweet melody. It was a day to kick stones along a riverbank and dream, before a night of jukebox music and cokes at the local diner. What kind of day are you? Autumnal Vision Wind, rain: a snuggle under the covers morning Dreamtime -- "dreaming of the way things might have been"? Someone asked: What short of revolution could remake the world to be more fair, peaceful, more encouraging of love? My new mantra: "lighten up": Eyes upward, facing mysteries of stars and heavens Heart lightened, to more merry, merry be I lighten the load to my aching shoulders, and find worlds of light and joy easier to carry I look to ancient wisdoms to enlighten my soul And I laugh, lightly, brightly, let loose too tightly inheld breath of fear/hate/judgment. Breathing freely, I inhale the exhilarating scent of changing leaves zen cards spirit e-cards knife's edge My heart is on the edge of a knife-- not licensed surgery just self-medication for pain. What else is true? Betrayal by the gods can result in confusion. Sometimes it all seems clear and clean and real -- When sensation makes sense. Nobody knows the trouble I've seen, 'cause they're all busy looking at their own. Knife's edge -- the end of the rainbow See the shining beatitude, the joyous reunion. When all the lonely, separated strands and coloured bands finally find their proper placement in celestial harmony. Oh, the trumpets will sound calling all to glory. But what else is true? Are there cries for war throughout the land? Are there crises crying for attendance while our leaders are otherwise involved? Are there cowering souls, beyond earthly torment, crying for release while hiding in cubicles or corner offices or ivory towers playing at mind games, convoluted strategies, never quite sure who they are? Are there banners flying, urging all to attend the great banquet? Is this the feast for which we've come? The knife cuts both ways. Does it matter why we bleed? Timothy McVeigh Is Still Dead It's morning in America The morning of June 11, 2001 A warm and beautiful Spring day And in Terre Haute, Indiana -- a little after 7:00 am -- Timothy McVeigh is dead. What more is there to say? We all know the score: Death: 169, Mercy: 0 The hero "bloody, but unbowed" Silenced, but still proud Ashes to scattered ashes Death to death. Lifelines It's a tale many times in the telling Of wisdom and wonder and enchantment foretold. Captivating, yes compelling. But catch it now, before you're old (We're so soon old.). Cross country wide and free; a gypsy's life by caravan And what is yet to be is stretching wide, without a plan. Try, if you can, to imagine just how you're gonna end. . . . You're gonna end. Past ships and planes and miles of dusty road, It's all been told . . .and then retold. We've lived a thousand lives before, we the vagabonds of Earth But let me try to tell to you my story, it's all I own Whatever be its worth. It started in a coffeehouse so many years ago Where poets of our century were wont to waste their days And in those days did bright mindwaves cast their nets and flow To catch up young unruly souls and charge them with the craze For adventuring -- for "something new" To catch a star and follow wherever it should lead To search out the holy answer to the ache of human need To be the first new holy breed to wholey shake the Earth To usher in a promised age, so many years in birth. It was a time of carousels and colored lights; A time of feeling grandly strong and right; A time when Life was just beyond our sight. What made it go? Which corner was the wrong one turned? Or is it merely time to take things slow, To gather up the threads of what we've learned? The darkness cast upon us, how was it earned? Oh yes, I meant to tell you of brilliant desert skies And city street romances that sparkled ere they died. Of Denver's summer snowstorm and LA's winter flood And secret, solemn friendship pacts seal'd in summer blood. Of a much awaited sunrise within a foreign town Of food and flowers and incense freely passed around Of turquoise rings & violent springs & jails of many brands And music wafting through the streets Of gentle smell of smoke so sweet And wondrous madmen once to meet who read witchcraft in your hand. And so much more; yes, lifetimes more. I would give it all to you, asking nothing in return But that you seek, in your own style, for yourself to learn Of corners waiting yet to turn before our time is through. And perhaps one day you'll say to me: "Yes, the answer's here! Yes, the answer's clear!" And you will say to all of us: "Here's what we must do." Before our time is through . . . LINK: ENERGY from the SUN Approaching Millennium She sits in an old rocking chair And questions the silence of night. As the waves blow, the winds flow, the sands sift with sea And faraway stars shine in soft mystery Her eyes shine with starlight and stare at the sea Asking questions as ancient as night Expecting no sign to appear. In the village, at noon, on the square Beneath the near blinding day light, Sits a man with a plan he's no means to play Wondering how he will get through his day And just where, this night, he will finally lay (Yes, beneath which exit light?) Expecting no sign to appear? I questioned myself on a dare Tell me: What's wrong and what's right? Have I caught a new thought that God has no mind? We search for salvation that's nowhere to find? or merely grown tired of life's daily grind, Not caring to search for the light, Expecting no sign to appear. We children of flowers and light Have we turned to dour-faced fear Our dreams sacrificed to the night Expecting no sign to appear?

Life, the Universe and Everything (for Patty) Let's talk about life the one you have and the one you imagined . . . With all the world of possibilities, what have you settled for? Waking up in the cool, cool morning Autumn crisp -- as your lungs reach for air The sounds, the smells, the awaited adventures Anticipation . . . Or merely another day? Do you long for love in the dark, dusky evening? Do you count the countless stars, knowing a miracle is on its way? Has the chill of eternity captured your imagination? What anchors you to Earth? What makes you want to stay? A journey of a thousand destinies Written deep within your soul Traveling daily through all the possibilities Which are the parts that make you whole?

A Knock on the Duir

poems for other days

Juicy round autumn burnished red and golden mesmerizing quality of time today. Hunger forgotten when life is a garden sow and weep while you sleep a new day grows. Getting our time together Getting in touch with weather again And there's been so much to weather Again and again and again. Sunrays are playing Warming the walkways Flashing out rainbows in random puddles and streams. Clear skies and starlight Awaken the night hours Expanding the time to harvest our dreams.

Sun in Leo, Moon in Libra Sitting here, in the cluttered fan-cooled kitchen While a storm-brewing wind rustles through the garden below. The California wine tastes tart and sticky. The wine tells me stories, you know. It's the redness and the way the light reflects against the glass, along with the drug. Hearing voices in the silent darkness, I listen without question. As the night slowly falls, I envision fantasies of former lives: Glistening ball gowns and a smiling orange moon in a starlit sky appear in my mind's eye along with jugglers and dancers. A fortune-telling maiden in glorious rags places cards upon a table: "The red one is Death; the white one is Honour; the green one is Fortune; the blue one is Love." She lives in a log cabin with a unicorn and goat who feed and clothe her and keep her safe. There are many things I need to know and few to tell me. So I listen to the wine's stories. I wish it were my garden, below. I would go out barefoot and gather ripe vegetables under the moon, breathing deeply of the cool night air. Order of the White Lion CHAOS-STARS E-LIST

OR MAYBE CINCINNATI The crowd dissolves and I am left in a sad corner holding a wrinkled overcoat wishing for warm holiday homecoming goodwill. But the endless night enwraps my mind leaving me twisted jumping here and there without purpose. Johnny didn't have a penny, but he had good looks and good times & Mary had her pimp's abortion to even the score But no one took the beggar seriously when he said that times had turned to emptiness. No one believed in fulfillment; No one had the time. & the crowd dissolved vanished into the fog tho ectoplasmic energies milled about the mainfare. It was Thursday in the rain and mist and sooted brownstones. And the streetlamps only served as muted halos like the cafe neon flashing. So I stopped in for another beer and borrowed music & listened to the couple in the next booth discuss their barren lives & thought of 19th century philosophers who make me sad & wished for a breezy bright beach in May & wrote you another letter to be locked in my diary. So I'm thinking of splitting for the coast or maybe Cincinnati But my overdraft is overdrawn and I'm not strong enough to hitchhike and maybe tomorrow just won't happen if I can find the right door to oblivion. But maybe tomorrow will dawn bright and warm and smiling and the labor pool will call me and the coffee buns will be sweet at breaktime and someone will smile at me and come to my barstool to shoot the breeze and share my dreaming And the crowd will dissolve And the people will emerge.

and for other days

Venus Guide Us to Peace
a meditative poem

         Not just sweetness and light
        There is a strength; there is conviction --
          there is a vibrant dedication to true worth.
        If we can but believe again
          in all the humane virtues --
        Love is sharing,
          in kindness, understanding, supportive regard.
        Love is forgiving and being forgiven,
          when it is clear that malice was not intended
          or malice has been exorcised
          -- an acceptance of the positive power
          of change, of growth in spirit.
        Love is the assumption of "we."
        We are doing being going having creating
        We are able to exchange our labor, knowledge,
          possessions, positions
        We are able to take in more than I -- to synergize
          our fortunes into wealth and integral well being.
        Love is not just a song -- a pretty set of symbols
        Love is a power and a glory
          and an all encompassing truth.
        Love is addition and multiplication,
          not division or subtraction.
        Love enriches and inspires us.
        Love is not blind, not foolish.
        Love is not denying the self or self interest.
        Love is seeing clearly, knowing wisely,
          understanding and expanding the self --
          expanding outward to take in the universe
          of interconnected, interdependent being.
        Love sees the ugliness; and love sees the beauty.
        The ugliness saddens; the beauty invigorates.
        Love is to peace as music is to harmony.
        But how are we to love in a discordant world?
        It is within us to pick out the true,
          enduring melody
          to which our essential selves are tuned --
        If we but look to, listen to, open our selves to
          Venus, the Goddess of Love,
          Peace, Justice, Harmony
          as she manifests within us all.

Madalyn Aslan's Astrology Web Page


Mississippi

Riverside romance one dusky June
Turned into a winter poem
By firelight -- light of the moon.

We loved and parted all too soon
Each to return, a separate home
Riverside romance one dusky June.

I catch a glint, a ring of spoon
Flashing through the tale I spin
By firelight -- light of the moon.

Sometimes at night I hear you croon:
"We never had a chance to win."
Riverside romance one dusky June
By firelight -- light of the moon.



The moon is blue and dreaming
Cry all my children to sleep
In conquest dreams we deem to rule
In darkest halls we plot in torment
In empty caverns we deify glory
Dance, again, dance for freedom
Dance my children to sober dreaming
Of valor and honor and color and pain
Dance and cry and strive again
To hold a mass and state the Name
Call forth my demons from sleep
The songs of old and runes of yore
The empty words we've learned to score
The high and low and even
Listen and you'll hear them moan
It's dark and dirty here below
The emptiness can drive you 
To a place you ought not go
You'll die in horror screaming
Cry all my children to sleep
The moon is blue and so are you
You'll hear its song so clearly
And discount it all to dreams
And when you wake, you'll wonder 
Why you're screaming
Why you ache in places you can't feel
Why your work and world don't seem so real
Why the voices in your head are screaming
And you'll count the phases of the moon
And wander in the night without direction
And keep a silent vigil in your secret heart
And turn quickly round the corners, 
Lest someone see you
And when the curse is cast, you'll hear it spoken
Without bothering to look for the absent speaker
And when the moon has turned its face 
To other dreamers
You'll see a vision overpower the sky
And answer . . . when you ask it "why?"
The moon is blue and dreaming.


	            Mushroom teacups sail in stardust
	         withered laurels snap in dustwhirls
	      tethered horsemen roam the skyways
   	  soldiered remnants hiss through brushwoods
		All is soon made clear.




A Kodak Moment

   [these are actually song lyrics.  some people have offered to write the music for them. 
 if you would like to write your own music, i would love to hear it.]


   Picture you in a fairy-tale moment
   Picture me as I was always meant to be
   Picture us rolling through green meadows
   Picture everybody happy

   In my life of quiet desperation
   I still try to find the time to dream
   Look at us, we're quite a combination
   Wonder if we'll be happy

   Picture love as quiet desperation
   Picture life as where we have to be
   Picture time away from aggravation
   Picture everybody happy

   Picture you in a fairy-tale moment
   Picture me as I was always meant to be
   Picture us rolling through green meadows
   Picture everybody happy

Art Image Link


        This  Druid Seat site owned by Laurie Corzett.
[  Previous 5 Sites|  Skip Previous|  Previous|  Next|  Skip Next|  Next 5 Sites|  Random Site|  List Sites]   

Designs by Willow


 
The Druid's Opera


A joyous encounter with life
A joyous encounter called my life
I've swung from trees in tropical times
And swum the seas of paradise
And learned to breathe upon the earth
You've got to see me; you've got to listen
To these wonders that I've learned.

Traveling, traveling a hard-stoned road
Working my legs, my mind, carrying my load
Journeying for countless years
Seeking out the sea of tears
Eyes blinded by a black lace veil
I break my trail
(As in my mind my thoughts unwind my tale)

A marvelous secret, a hidden treasure trove
While unicorns play harpsichord
Within a blossomed grove
A newborn child with something wild that
  plays in rainbowed eyes
Has been declared of druid laird
  born to hypnotize
Been borne to hypnotize
Sing lullabies
Reward all the heathen with sleep
And dreaming dreams as such who waken
Find their very core earthshaken
And made to believe in possibilities
They set their sites, reshaping all reality
And of them they've begotten me.

Sound the magic pipes of Pan
All who hear may understand
The fluid waif who walks the land
Spawn of Diana's fling
With the clove-footed king
Vibrate to music, music, music
In every cell of living fluid
'Tis alright to be a druid
Of forest borne to roam through future lands
Touch me, touch me, touch me, touch me
Become my hands.

Floating, wandering, restless dreams
Call me to respond.

I rode a mountain faire
Picked daisies for my hair
Learned to know the name of every weed
I dwelt the night alone
In a crevice made of stone
And never thought of what I next would need
I dreamt of castles bold
And the language of the Olde
And struggled to bring my dreams alive
And whistled as I rode
The songs I'd oft been told
At parties seen
In waking dream
Another place and time
Another tune, another rhyme
And I'd sit beside my campfire
And gaze into the flames
And yearn of learning other places,
Atune to other names
Traveling over other lands,
Seeking secrets, other plans
Or just remembering another song
For the secret of each soul is in its song.

Blazing all around
Miles from bare ground
Twisting twig upon an aery sea.
Luminescent way
Whatcha gonna say
Songbird, whistle your wisdom to me.
A maid of golden wings
In lullabying sings
Of white sails racing in the wind.
No two are e're the same
Of the tales she can name
Oh, nightingale -- take me in!
Blazing all around
Miles from bare ground
Journeying upon a vessel rare
Silently I sing
To hold remembering
Magic castles in the air.

Getch yer gimme
Pull that file!  Collapse that case!
You are obsolete -- unexistent
And ain't no one gonna hire you in this industry.
Whatcha holding on to?
Whatch gonna live for?
Got a score to settle while the dying's cheap
Gonna find a rooftop and fire.
Gonna tap a neural gap and get higher.
Gonna hold a seance and retire.
Become a log a'rotting in the wood
Enter eternity a nonfunctioning robot
Captured in celluloid, electronic impulses
Air tremors and interruptions in space.
We make no difference to a meteor --
Any blind force that destroys without design --
We make no difference to our own kind.
Blind orgiastic miasma
Pressing, moaning, sucking in life.
Entropy.
Elegy.
Ontogeny.

Images of innocence float by in my mind
I'm looking for a pot of gold
I never hope to find
And wonder in the dark of night
What if I should go blind.
Today is made of yesterdays,
Tonight of yestereves.
The spoken words I say to you
I hope you won't believe.
We've but so little time my friend,
Too little time to grieve.
And I wonder in my heart of hearts
Just where all will lead.
Will I once more take an oath of pain
And watch my body bleed
Or will I learn that living's
When you take all that you need?

Busy work, busy talk, trying to make time
Talk of energy, talk of war,
Talk of who you're out to score
Learn to love and disremember
Trying to make time; dying to make time.
Try to run and they've got you busted.
Try to hide, try to hide, try to hide.
Everyone's there to be mistrusted.
Try to hide, try to hide, try to hide.
What's left of you inside?

You are of me.
You are one of me.
You see what I see.
You do what I see.
You do what I command.
I've got you in my hand.
I've got you underhand.
Touch me. Touch me. Touch me. Touch me.
You are far away.
You are very far away.
You don't do what I say.
You don't hear what I say.
I'm screaming "go away."
Go away.  Go away.  Go away.  Go away.
I'm sitting in my room.
I've got you in my room.
I see you in my womb.
You got away too soon.
You haven't got a chance.
No, not a bloody chance.
I circle in my dance.
I've got you in my dance.
In a trance, in a trance, in a trance, in a trance
Come on -- DANCE!
Touch me.  Touch me.  Touch me.  Touch me.
DANCE!

Quietly, quickly, without a trace
Annihilate an entire race
Stealthily, silently my poison kills
To cleanse this land of a people's ills.
The key's been cast, so lock the door
On lies and poverty; greed and war.
Purify in red hot fire
Diefy the symbol of desire
And when all desire's turned to dust
Etch in fire:  "IN GOD WE TRUST."
A sacred trust.

Sound the bell
Sound the bell
Sound the bell slowly
O'er all we've made holy.
Ring bright pure-toned peals
O'er gold flaming fields
In music now seal'd
the end of our fate.
Sound the bell.
Sound the bell.

And now I sail from the sea of Lethe
A phoenix, risen from my death
To journey on through time and space
Progenitor to the human race.

[The Druid's Opera was originally conceived as
a multi-media event -- if you would like to perform it,
please let me know.]









AIN'T NOBODIES' BUSINESS IF YOU DO

Peter McWilliam is dead -- June 14, 2000 -- r.i.p.
 
a noble educator killed in his prime by the senseless "war on drugs"

thoughts provocateur

 

  Listening to daily news reports, I am assaulted by senseless 
acts of violence and despair.  It has been occurring to me that 
our world need not be such an ugly and hopeless place for so many
of our citizens.  With the technology already available, we could 
provide the means to more happily fulfilled lives for a great 
many more of us, thereby ending the bulk of beastly behavior 
engendered by squalid environments and the anger/apathy 
reactions to a derth of meaningful alternatives in so many lives.

  The media is full of woeful tidings about young people involved 
with drugs and inappropriate sexual experiences -- an outgrowth 
of the glorification of such activities in the same media, 
but also the reaching out for somekind of experience in a world 
that allows very little in the way of achievement or fulfilling 
activities for the young.

  Young children are subjected to all kinds of horrible 
experiences perpetrated by their so-called caretakers, 
both abusing parents and those in whose care the parents 
mistakenly leave them in order to go to jobs to provide 
for the material needs of the family. 

  People in many parts of the world suffer basic 
deprivations of food and shelter.  Many children 
face lifelong handicaps resulting from early malnutrition.  
Many are left with lifelong emotional and physical scars 
from having to fend for themselves on the streets from 
an early age. 

  Violence is learned as the appropriate reaction to anger 
and frustrations.  In the media and on the streets, violence
is glorified and rewarded.  Love is seen as being linked 
to pain, of betrayal, of loss, and the love/pain link 
experienced in abusive family relationships. 

  Poverty both material and emotional is endured, but 
not quietly.  Violent reactions are visited especially on 
the families and neighbors themselves subject to these 
brutalizing environments, as well as upon those who are 
materially better off, in the form of all manner of 
violent crime.  The criminal justice system seems to only
reflect and propagate the brutalizing conditions which do 
nothing to amerliorate the hate, pain, frustrations in
an endless cycle of violence, victimizing victims and 
perpetrators and numbing the sensibilities of the 
professionals who attempt to work within the system. 

  The education system fails to educate in most of the 
areas that we need to understand to function in our world.  
How much do we learn in school (or even at home or on the 
streets) about basic health and safety, financial management, 
childcare, legal rights and responsibilities, building 
meaningful relationships, building self-esteem, building 
and maintaining a home?  Instead, most of what our young 
people learn in the schools that they must spend most of 
their formative years attending seems to be more destructive 
and counterproductive than truly useful. 

  Like it or not, our children (the children of our world, 
be we parents or not) are our future.  The quality of life 
we can look forward to is the quality of life we teach our 
children to expect and produce.  And in the present we live 
out the expectations we are producing today.  Do we really 
want a world based on violence and ignorance?  I don't.  
I want a world in which I and my loved ones could live in 
relative peace, security and well-informed choice.  
Yet, what am I doing to promote such a world?  I see the 
misfortunes around me, and feel hopelessly frustrated, 
beyond any attempt at change.  "I am, after all, only one 
relatively powerless person," I say, and go on with my 
daily chores, which, after all, leave me little time or 
energy for doing battle with the powers that shape my 
surroundings. 

  I have come up with several ideas and fantasy scenerios 
which I believe would, if implemented, result in a happier 
world.  I do not expect you to agree with my ideas.  
In fact, I would be highly gratified if you would 
disagree, and in your disagreement develop or expand ideas
of your own which you might share, thereby increasing the 
energy expended toward positive change in opposition 
to the apathy or uselessly expended anger against vague or 
inappropriate targets which, I fear, are overwhelming our 
healthier impulses.  And, if by chance you do agree with 
any of my ideas, perhaps you could expand on them or help 
to devise more effective methods of implementation than I 
have yet been able to imagine.  It is said that imagination 
can be a powerful tool toward change.  Perhaps the opening 
of channels of communication for our positive imaginings 
might help us to create a world in which we could be prouder 
and happier to live.

go_to_thoughts  
  


Please come back soon and visit me.

All written material (c) Laurie Corzett (libramoon).  
If you wish to use any of my writing for any purpose, please let me know.
Also, please include copyright notice [(c) Laurie Corzett] and my email or web page address.

   Email me at libramoon42@mindspring.com

 

This page hosted by 

Get your own Free Home Page