Mirror Man

 

The twilight pulls me in again, in and in and in. Her voice whispers to me "he's your pilot." How long have I waited? The longest of retirements has cossetted me in ignorance so bleak I could not even raise a book to my eyes or whisper an evocation. I don't understand this path even though I am on it, the bumps and forks, dips and bends remind me of your curious features. A plain stretching out littered with endless possibilities just breaking through into tangible form in the half light between worlds. I like the feel of it, its taken such a long time to become comfortable again with the essence of my Dharma. I am here and my Will is being done in so many ways as yet unseen. I will call him Mirror Man until he reveals his true name. I still seek the same beauty, just in a different body.

 Image: MatthewXavier deviantart.com 

Division

In this division I find unity. The common bond twitching in its flesh for release into the spurious infinity of creative space begs on its knees for the umbilicus to be cut. So we are raised and fallen by what we are and what we do. In our deepest yearnings for something more we can become cannibals of our own inbred societies. I have become wanting of the light recently and I wonder what if I could do some good with this thing I possess inside me, this heart, this mind, this soul. Could I love and be loved? I cannot sacrifice my essence yet I feel a sense of remorse for some of my venom. I cannot believe the forgiveness of others. I cannot comprehend why they tolerate me. In this division I am not alone, not as alone as I thought. Yet the chasm yawns before me as I hurtle bodies into the unforgiving deep of what was once my imagination. Lost to the feeling of completion I am nothing unless I am being ripped apart. I cannot play the healer, always the torn. My eternal role. My fate. I pray the promise is true and my work is only just beginning and while the word 'Therion' sighs like the wind in my ears I hope my dreams do not die.

I have been trying to turn myself inside out in order to reveal my translucent nudity. I attempt to rinse off my tattoos, primitive tribal markings of an era passed. I shave every hair from my body and frown at my scars which are still there. And I find this on Facebook:

YOU ARE NOT ENOUGH NAKED

You are not enough naked when you are naked

the ripple of your skin is a royal shawl
your untied mane a burnished veil
your gait a pondered gesture
your mellow words witch-craft
your soul hides amidst curved brows
like an alpine deer in friendly bushes

You are not enough naked when you are naked

my keen eye spots a thousand denials,
endless pauses, swayings of pleasure,
my ear hearkens worn out chatterings
of yes and no

I have no choice O Loved One
I shall lay bare even your nudity

English translation from my poem: Non sei abbastanza nuda, Opus V, @copyright 2008-9 Mirco Antonio Mannucci Oxymora, work in progress.

The Gnostic God

Its been my longheld opinion that Jesus was indeed God's personal God. When we experience the Abyss we are guided by a personal deity whom we feel led to chose via our faith and destiny. If you look at the Gnostic texts and trace the messiah from the pre-existence of the Word through his life on earth to the Revelation then only one conclusion can be drawn. Jesus was reborn into the womb of his own creation as God. He was remanifest as himself, through himself and for himself in a sense of experience and gratification. If indeed we as humans cannot feel the divine force through our fingers then God cannot feel the soil beneath his feet. It is arrogant to believe that we as His creation are doing this for him, far from it. We are a mere by-product of something much bigger. With our eternal questioning and wondering it would appear we are His agitators lurking within His Abyss. As the soul of His communication God could work Himself into existence as the Christ. Again I find it hard to believe by shutting our eyes God will no longer exist. More so the whole crux relies on the pauses in our breathing, that's where He lies. By that logic God vanishes in our blinking and is in a constant state of existence and non-existence. Therfore the Word becomes manifest as the Godform which inevitably leads to its antithesis as represented by the archetype of the Anti-Christ. The Only Anti-Christ I can accept is Christ Himself. Not a seperate duality but a singular event. God realised as his own creation constant through all worlds and events. Jesus was God made man. The only man-god to supercede legend into mainstream consciousness. So if Jesus was God made man then God must be Jesus (man) made God.

Secret

We are designed to fit inside each other, you and I.
We are designed to feel the everything.
The eternal belonging to something.
Evading nothing.
Always.
You.
I.
.

Pain

But let there be spaces in your togetherness and let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. -Gibran

I have spent the last 10 years in an empty room staring at the floor, walls, ceiling...myself. I have been wholly obsessed by my solitude, proud I can live with myself, within myself...without myself.

Without you.

Force without motion. Powerlessness and impotence met by paralysing obsession and a dangerously inhuman approach to death. I even planned my funeral in that room.

Without you.

I became psychotic, feeling for the walls you made to surround me to keep me safe from myself. I became an insane dribbling fool, alone in that room.

Without you.

I ate and became hungry, I drank and remained thirsty, I experienced dreamless sleeps. Nothing came to me and everything slipped away. Speech escaped me and unable to communicate I learnt to live.

Without you.

Slowly, recently something changed. I felt I was somehow previously wrong in my thinking. In my darkest hour I realised my mistake. I then became enlightened, empowered by one single, powerful, concentrated thought. I was no longer thinking about living.

With you.

Image: Pain by Solthra

Egyptian Hymn

Drawn out from within and expelled with hatred
Fetid breath chokes and binds my lungs.
She waits, Blind Isis as I crawl from the sand,
I feel ancient, torn from someone elses memory not my own.
The fire laden rocks breathe out their heat and in this fire I die.
I walk twist-footed on glass and brick, I remember the pain.
Behold the cold walls running wet stealing the light from Osiris
And follow me to the hollow hell.
Cold walls take from this place one thing, the only thing. Life.
And time breathes her eternal sighs as every horror lies beneath the sand.
But none so terrible as that old dragon, Leviathan.
Beaten by the reed and the strap, Father Osiris pounds the flesh.
Making a man that will walk the length of the desert sands
And still fail to find himself. Slain to Set and drowned by the Nile,
What knife cuts his mark and leaves me looking for the scars I left?
That stale water runs down this neck,
The disgust for Isis And the longing to fall back into the Mind of Egypt
Nevertheless, the flesh fails. What holds the Mind but the Life it carries?
Hail Osiris and let him be damned!
Hail Leviathan! Hail Leviathan!
The Life of Egypt! The Blood of the Nile!

Strip me! Naked I am, nothing pressed to me but sand.
Grain on grain scratched, removed and scarred.
Now worn and used by the desert, Horus whispers with promise.
I am Abel and he Cain! Stack the hierarchies and fell the archetypes!
O my brother Set, where are my Adam and Eve?
Leviathan coils around the Nile. My Tree, my Tet bears no fruit like her.
What is the fruit of the Nile? This backbone. The land, the people!
Egypt! Beloved Egypt! Seeded, fertile and proud.
Overripe and robust, she stores in her belly all potential for mankind.
Eat her fragrant pomegranates and spit the seeds back to Geb!
Now the apple seems so bland in comparison to the beauty of truth.
Hail Ma'at! Hail Ma'at! And enter my fathers belly.
Bornless! This Abyss eternal. Bornless! This barren world.
Her seasons starve and flood. Her blood flushing the land.
Let Leviathan breed new life and lay my soul on those scales.