Class Session #5 – Sacred Garden – Holy Statues – Part 2 – Private

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Class Session #5 – Sacred Garden – Holy Statues – Part 2

In Part 1 of Session #5, I only announced this complicated dual subject, .. .. But here, at last, is the main body. .. .. However, there will also be a Part 3 for questions and conclusions. ..-best wishes and GOOD LUCK, -sr .. .. Remember there is a “contact us” page.. {Here} case you want to get in touch for any reason. -SR.

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SECTION “A” – [ If you’re a careful person you might consider taking notes. **joke**]
( primordial garden )

I have a SACRED GARDEN, small space by a neatly made house in a clearing,
in verge, a rich, dense, fragrant, tall-tree forest’s brown deep shadowed verge,
.. Tall woods but no naked edge to a clearing, woody creeper, roses, grape to top,
.. .. forming, framing, paths thru archways in.
.. Behind my house, so fertile, this small clearing,
.. This wild meeting built, made sacred, by my hands in seven years.

Small clearing where Humans dwell on rather new land where,
there was a year,
.. A not-so-ancient year our broad Ice World that was here,
.. One year its springtime melt flood draining off shows glacier is !!inland of ocean now!!,
.. And along that rocky shore abruptly this new world of meandering melt water roads,
.. All these watercourse ways, lichen-fungi scents of naked firm dirt called new biome.
.. .. Just 4 springs later then,
.. Nearby cold water human boat people followed red birds nesting upriver.

South Coastal Slope, New England..
There are riverside niches here, some times of year, so like an Appalachian cove.
.. Small rivers twist in glacial outflow bottoms as if rocky East Texas bayous,
.. Murky full of all the scums and seeds of a wet temperate forest’s life,
.. Our camp in a clearing half way up a channel’s dawn-facing bank,
.. .. old soldier at last camped in neat lumber-built tent,
.. In dawns sit, dance, poetize, deep smoke healing, these dawns.

And bearing witness to all this shifting into monstrous warming now
and my people’s empire I rebelled against collapses in a plague
while its royal soldiers rage with murder in the streets.

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( the practical use of good gods )

( this section also described in Wikipedia.. .. {Here} )

It always is an age of travel and rest, always is.
I’ve read in scholars’ books, thruout the whole long generations
.. Of Classic Age PLUS Hellenistic Age, of Ancient Athens, Greece,
.. .. indeed a great many years spanned two Ages of Human History,
.. .. in a busy region of the world, this in Athens, Greece..

On one of the city’s old main streets,
where you walk beside the Old Walls
and at a turning find an urbanized height,
find a low ancient hill lies beneath the walls,
stands beneath the paving at your feet,

And there a wide wooden gate,
Wide but seeming huge and great from the beauty of its shape,
Under an arch of painted sculpture stands a wide wooden gate,
.. me speaking as if we are there then, you and I,

the gate shut, its postern standing open dawn into dusk,
every day but Marching Day, for such as us to visit in if wish,
but instead I bid you turn and look along the way a moment.

This old wide street beside the wall turns right,
I say on Marching Morning this gate opens full out,

Our Mother’s Basket Lady and her walking party first,
year’s main clergy see, walking as Basket Lady and family,

then the Statuary Cart rolls out and comes into the way,
the waiting crowd release into the sky their greatest cheer,

I point, That turn, Then a long slow straight slope to
Downtown Marketplace, where the whole city waits,
But luckily, right there, Old Gate to the Inland Road.
I got wised up, by a friend since sadly deceased, that
The Wise gather right here, early, Marching Morning.
My second Athens Year, what, eight years ago now.

But was I loud? Did I speak loudly just now? Too loudly?
I look around uneasily. This is not an empty street.

That year, first months, i made inquiries of prostitution
for a living, i made inquiries, did. But a voice right out
– it was Our Brother’s voice protecting- said NO right
out clearly, so i made inquires of that phenomena,
so here we are now.

Did I actually utter that shout just now? The shout of standing
in a chilly morning, nothing on your back but one shirt your
own rough clumsy dirty hands, of the cheapest cloth,

And our utter silence as Our Mother’s Basket Daughter and
her reverend family pass, and the Statuary Cart’s burly chaps
come pulling stepping, burly shoving the harness like horses.
burly, burly, chanting drone of FRIENDLY POWER emanating
from their singing throats as they draw out the Cart, starting
home for Mother’s Farm and Hearth beyond the distant hills,
above a bay very different than Athens’ noisome port.

.. We are both Sicilians,
you and I, cousins. close cousins,
babes, we kissed like little twins do, they say.
Me in Athens ten years, you corresponded, sailed
cheap from Syracuse in a cargo hammock like me,
and sling your hammock now by me in a shack of
a shop I keep in a Sicilian neighborhood. We’ve
planned this conversation, to be on this spot,
for years, you and I, good cousin, by slow
letter and I fear now my enthusiasm
may shuddering overtake me.

This is not an empty street. IT WILL NOT DO
who come into Holy Temple SINGING OUT
and shoving their HICK RELATIVES
around from corner to post,
but i feel the cheat in this thought
and hide my face from you in my hand,
good cousin.

You see how i live, i live like a rat,
like the rats in the holds we both survived
to get here.

How can a being of such filth experience,
let alone describe to a fellow rat, poor friend,
the Astonishment revealed when The Cart
pulls into the way, the Astonishment that
led us on all day, until they veil it, when
having summited the ridge of hills.
No poet can describe it, their poets say.

Not even in the whispering we’ve done
in the weeks you’ve been recovering did i try
to say to you the astonishing glare of VISION LIGHT
beaming from every fervent eye in a packed crowd,
beaming from every human eye,

Vision Light infusing into every color that there is,
from the sudden bloom of every perfume scent,
from the heaps and heaps of flower decorations
over-loaded on the Cart,
heaps such you might think the three passengers
could drown in flowers, the drunken perfume scent
of that, but then your eyes open, LOOK!
Within the shifting light and shade of
the billowing rainbow awnings of the Cart!
For in there strikes the light of Human Visions!

Into these shaped stones, light of all these Human
eyes together strikes, calling in the Sacred Twin we
each have, it striking out from its, from our, Divinity.

Such is our faith and so i’ve seen with these eyes!
A huge flame in those three figures every time I looked!
it’s called the Re-Igniting of Our Mother’s Fire in camp,
so long ago, in a time of gods, Our Mother’s camp
first night arriving to her forest hill above the sea,
long ago in a time of gods, yet where we are
gone today, and at last we all to be welcomed
thru at Two Ladies Gate by torchlight, that night,
and i, and all about, will lift you when you stumble.

YOU HAVE NOT BEEN, it is off season,
months of survival to wait.
But we are poets, are we not you and i?

You come to me.
To where I’ve sunken, sitting on the pavement,
leaning back slack on the big Wide Gate, and
my face hidden in my hand, but we are poets,
you and i, you come kneel beside and grasp
my chin like in your fist, and pull it up so i
know your beaming grin of happiness.

Oh Cousin, What Is This??
A Slobber Kiss !!??! You don’t let go, Oh cousin,
what is this?? Another slobber kiss, i wipe it off,
you grinning shout “!!FOR COURAGE!!”

Good Cousin, (you demand) are we not a family now?
So i shout it in your face.. !!One For All And All For One!!
But still there’s so much more i cannot speak.

Speaking of the half-penny for the Student’s Fund
i bring most months, and of the “Gratitude For Safe
Arrival” clay figurine in your pocket, which i helped
you purchase in the shops for less than that, me
speaking of those things i think i, the further
forward one of us, might say..

o let us be
like mighty brothers and tender sisters both.
such is our faith as you will see when we sit side
by side in the temple of Our Mother’s Fire Hearth,
for i have seen that with these eyes and it is good,
so cousin, let us be the Holy Family of us.

But there’s no need of me to say such things.
You thinking of exactly those thoughts,
but you the one finds words.

You’d pull my nose. I know you would.
Drill a finger in my belly crying like a robber,
-That Students’ Half-Penny In Your Pocket Sir,
that’s my budget as much as yours.-

But i’d have some easy crack about the “Gratitude
For Safe Arrival” cheap clay statuette is most
definitely both of us alive in person.

So I’d drag you in and thru the postern of the gate,
not you slow but me dragging fast, or you shove by,
find yourself in Sacred Space in surprise, as many say
is best. Let’s stroll the lovely Kitchen Garden first.

When our souls hush, then the Student Fund collection box,
we’ll think, make pure wishes, both hold the coin to drop it in.
that’s when the steps to Mother’s Altar one by one,
there is a very nice way to bow, we who’ve been instructed now,
set up our Fervent Gratitude for this arrival on it, light a lamp.

Then, right below the steps, on the grass, unpack the beer
and biscuits we have brought, dine our souls’ repast together,
gaze up thru the leafy branches of the pomegranate tree,
and try to see all the meanings in the light.

It always is an age of travel and rest, it always is.

( that there is a practical use of good gods )
( this section is also described in Wikipedia.. .. {Here} )

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SECTION “C” – – (please stop taking notes)
( incident in a race war )

(this section paraphrases wikipedia.. {-Here-} )


>The text I added to the top picture..
.. •railroad stock-holder .. .. •Harry Truman’s Uncle ..
.. •Harrisburg Haberdasher .. .. •The Lone Ranger
>Text I added to the bottom picture..
.. •These people are wearing – as such clothes
were known at that time – “N—-R Clothes”
.. •Was their skin dark from coal dust or melanin?
Who cared? Did they? It didn’t matter.
.. •Look like many White veterans of anti-slavery
Union Army in the Civil War did by then.

On Friday, September 10, about 300 to 400 unarmed strikers
.. East Europeans, Slavs and Germans mainly,
.. marched to a coal mine property of one Calvin Pardee
.. at Lattimer, a Company Town, to support their new UMW Union.

Their goal to support
.. their newly formed Union at the Lattimer mine.
.. Marchers on the road confronted several times by law enforcement,
.. Several times on the road ordered to disperse, but they kept marching.

One and one-half hundred Deputies spent morning joking, coming on street cars,
find at the stop an army tent, Luzerne County Sheriff marshaling platoon formations.
Streetcar conductor hears the joking “I bet I drop six of them when they get here.”

At 3:45 pm the demonstrators reach Lattimer and met again,
this time by the sheriff and 150 volunteers of main posse.
Sheriff Martin calls again the marchers to disperse,
.. comes grabbing at A PATRIOTIC FLAG that’s in lead marcher’s hands,

Successfully inciting a brief scuffle over THEORY OF PATRIOTISM,
.. a philosophic inquiry CUSTOMARILY decided by guns,
.. so the volunteer cops open fire on the unarmed crowd..
.. 19 workers dead at least
.. 17 to 49 wounded largely multiple shots in back like target practice.

In Wikipedia.. .. {-Here-}

( us. national flag as protest symbol )

(- yes we want good gods, DONT WANT to be hoisting up
no NONLIVING SOULLESS EMPTY deified Official Emblem of

racist Empire Of Money, war emblem of Imperial armies
and navies, made and distributed of cheap wasteful materials
by slaves somewhere,
in very very large quantity, for many years. Okay everyone?
To connect with GOOD GODS you hoist emblems that, as
works of art actually can be, are Safe Spiritual Havens for us.


I mean it’s like “Don’t bring a Philosophical Postulation
to a gunfight”, .. ..Plus.. Total self-misdirection.
Poor Bastards,

And also, there’s other things we should notice about all this…. -)

( for sixty years )

For sixty years,
I’ve been following the science and politics,
and scrawling estimates on back of envelopes,
frantically guessing just how, and just how soon,
Earth’s ceaseless heating will cook this living realm,
which we love so much, impinging on us everywhere,

How and when all this beloved life will cook to dissolution
in a seething cauldron of its elements,
which gathered long ago from blazing stars,
yes, deep in grief I’ve struggled in that arithmetic sixty years.

But I have stopped those jottings now,
for it is 2020, Revolution Year,
which I thought I’d never see,
and all my bets are taken off the board.

Who knows what impossibility might happen next?
Or even what impossibilities of what sort?

Not I.

( must have heard talk )

In childhood I must have heard some mention

Francis of Assisi entered my ears surely,
Tho in my family of Protestant British heritage,
Francis with the little birds lighted on his shoulders,
The saint bespeaking one on his hand who’s chirping back,

I see a children’s illustrator’s watercolor in a book held for me to see,
Text read exactly as a little gentle tale for moral benefit, no reality at all,
And I must say the gentle moral flew to my opened heart,
And the simple moral’s found Good Glad Lodging there ever since,
Despite the Turmoil this long lifetime here has been.

I must have heard more, or found an inborn knowledge,
for here now, the song birds and a human talk daily,
recognition name songs, feeding calls, silent alert,
and this dawn was MY Screech Alert when a big
Predator Owl dared light just above my head,
at my morning exercise, here in our clearing,
and, truly the best..
!!watching them school their adolescents!!.

And of course, obviously,
following the birds’ ways led upstream to,
.. .. now colonizing entirely all lands of Earth,
.. .. who, thru friends,
.. .. sent a stunning invitation.

Yes, and
I’ll tell you what i can.
What can you hear?

I’m not joking.

The text I wrote beside the picture..
Title.. “At The Forest Gate”
• A painting 12 years ago on a random scrap of artist paper while cleaning brushes,
• A prophetic vision of me later, last summer 2019,
• Emerging wide seas of poetry,
• Going to meet a representative of Fundamental Fungal World of Earth,
• At forest edge of a sacred garden.
• At later second meeting, agreement was reached.

The painting in an art gallery website.. {Here}

Per, and pursuant, to, our agreement,
in my backyard visions of a soldier’s duty station,
This deep communion has become
a great beauty in my soul, a new strength in my life,
a ceaseless worship of All That Is.
-:- -:-
(my army skills included radio mechanic and mail clerk.)
!!= I now say I am a Peace Revolution Corporal =!!
( Hear, Hear!! )
( A round of drinks for everyone!! )

( passionate amateurics )

In the hands
of any passionate amateur,
-any has a little ear for mozart tunes i mean,

In such hands,
Every ordinary plain-type Harmonica there is,

Teaches… !!Authentic Song Bird Language!!

The plain type Harmonicas do,
that’s what they’re imitating.


In the hands
of US. Military High Command,
US. Pentagon
can turn thirty-seven billion-zillion-trillion
US. Dollars into Bird Shit overnight,

That’s what they do,
they are voracious maggots

sucking the carcasses of once-existent
armies and navies and air forces
already devoured,
the flesh of all these Former Forces
profitably devoured
and shat out in small turds..

Ultra-Mobile Murder Squads of
cheap expendable Human Soldiers,
PLUS profitable fleets of trillion-zillion-dollar
Ultra-Mobile “intelligent” Murder Robots.

Those are our empire’s esteemed
Senior Professional Soldiers,
both Murder Robots and High Command,
both being about as intelligent as each other.

That’s my general assessment of being “PROFESSIONAL”,
as opposed to “Passionate Amateur”.

Or I mean like me.. I’m a Passionate Laid Off Soldier,
and I wouldn’t do that.


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Walt Whitman was a Great Bard of my region.

There was a period Whitman would take the trains,
down to Washington, which was
a crowded, crowded, filthy, filthy city at that time.

And sign in..
As a slouchy, stained, profane, poorly uniformed,
non-official type of soldier, Medical Volunteer.

Somewhere in some crowded tent, a bunk,
under canvas eat at mass-production kitchens,
the half-rolled butts in coffee cups abounding,
drink the coffee, eat the coffee grounds,
every old hand says, “What the fuck,
to get you going.”

Laboring as a Medical Volunteer
in the vast Factory Hospital System
of the anti-slavery Union Army,
in the US. Civil War.

We have some of his letters home,
letter-poems of a Bard, to beguile
and break your heart, endlessly,
overwhelming with surprise,
that your heart is fit to hear this,
news of what we human beings are.

But I’ve never seen any scholar’s book
where a scholar undertook the epic search,
to catalog what markings, subtle and profound,
this wretched duty left on that Poet and the poems.

Yes, I can only guess what ways that entwined
with Whitman’s entire thought and being.
But I have labored as a War Nurse too,
different war, different place of duty,
nursing extremely far less hard as that!
but I was so much younger than he was!

Indeed, it’s my entangled being that I search,
and me, in my heart, still on duty.

?? Oh, What happened to me ???

Yeah: Young and reckless,
Take a beating fine, okay,
But it made me tender, yearning,
And need of hope had disappeared,

So there came an extraordinary
release of fear.
And from there i ventured off,
into some woods we found,
with good friends.


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Section “H”
( Appeal To Our “Old” )

I came from Mother’s womb the next year after
everyone declared that World War Two ended.
Her man had returned and they had a little house.

But it hadn’t ended.
My whole long life since then has been
a Proper Soldier’s Life,
any life of careful thought and action,
seeking the ideal of Boldness,
and the Artist’s hope
of shaping a decent character,
and the taste for adventure,
and the love of friends,
in a World At War.

As to Myself, I find my Self incapable of judging.
As to the World, I put the problem down to
Money Madness.

In the burning ashes, my people’s Empire
Leaped out
to Loot The World,
And lying that it was a “Cold” War.

Yes, these eyes saw that,
even then these eyes
were watching.

And thru years compacted into decades,
I have formed theories of it all,
and pressed my soul and
body into action.

To Our So-Called “Old” Elders..

But if the “old” folk speaking are also WISE,
Or dreaming to be seeking to be WISE,

Then there is more we have to say,
for you know the world is wheels
beyond wheels, a dust of stars.

In forming my theories of this demented Funhouse ride,
this overwhelming tide of Real Bad News us Earthlings are
bathing in, In my theorizing of this unbelievable moment,
-Hot compression piston ride corkscrewing down the
-Output Chute of Universal History, is that what this is?
-?Or not?

Speaking of theories i’ve formed on these matters,
I have always got most good from 4 sources…

1. History books of Wars and Revolutions offer vast
understanding of these times, study of all those other
big structures of decaying Real Bad News. In your eyes
appear constant patterns of human depredations and
corrections constantly altered, in infinite variation, but
our Human Nature emerges and stands forth, or so
they say. In the better books you can generally fit
events of last year, or last month, or maybe two-
-days-before-yesterday, but not today, into the
theoretical patterns offered by the scholar.

2. Careful study of news reporting, scouting
always for nests of the Great Journalists, wide
viewpoints, those chosen honestly for their
courage, generosity, and truth. And even the
Passing Parade has much to tell you.

3. Careful study of news reporting, scouting most
especially for this.. *Yes-No-Maybe evidence on
every Theory Of All This you are considering
today. Done well, may be “military science”,
a good way to take your lifelong history
mental notes, and find true friends.

4. The Hippies’ famous “Good New Age” theory,
which all we American Witches adopted early in
our reluctant transition into Fully Hippie Pagans,
1970’s into 80’s, you know,
The Hippies’ famous “Good New Age” theory,
I used to teach it in the Festivals and Covens,
– With some footnotes, haggles, etc.,
– to it, discovered by our Fortunetellers.

That theory has shown STARTLING power,
both predictive and analytic,
in my observations of all these decades.
HOW? I don’t know how.
I guess Humans in groups really are psychics.

It gives THAT BIG PICTURE image
of whatever THIS IS

For.. Decade by decade, year by year, moment by moment
as i open the daily news,
day by day as Whoever’s at The Barricades this morning,
.. (The Resistance now is entirely Glorious Bastards!!

It seems as if every piece of this falls sharply into place
in the faint, fuzzy, hazy, arbitrarily rough-sketched vague
approximate pattern of HOW ALL THIS WORKS (maybe),
and so then ??WHAT COMES NEXT?? (maybe),

As offered by this Whatnot, this bright hued and nebulous,
unvouched-for and poorly-dressed, 1960’s so-called “theory”,
the “good new age”.


QUEEN ELIZABETH, the First of England,
!!.The Female Over-Admiral who Sank The Armada.!!
On official Royal Payrolls she had a NECROMANCER,

Yes!! Did you know that??
The gent’s name.. “Dr. D.”
Look it up. .. .. {Here}

Now, our “Dr. D.”, he was this Dark Presence in hiding,
he was waiting for something that we don’t know anymore,
a WELSH DRUID, of all unlikely things.

But, we know that in some way,
“Dr. D.” kept
like you would not believe!!

A library of books so VAST,
in old age he would let the village borrow the keys,
and some High School students would form intimate parties,
and wander in there for days,
keeping journals of which letters
of the Library’s Private Alphabetical Index they tried.

“Dr. D.” left HIS OWN NOTES in the Library too!!

Clearly evidenced in existing handwritten records..

It’s NOT just conjuring up the Great Gale that sank the Armada.

No, in fact.. “Dr. D.” was far, far, past conjuring Wind or Fire or Water,
no, WAS NOW conjuring Ancient Greek ODYSSEUS, the !!Great Sailor!!,
most cunning sailor EVER IN THE WORLD, Odysseus was in his time.
.. for so said Homer, Great Bard.

.. “Dr. D.” was scrolling thru Homer’s poems, you would say,
.. and found a passage where Odysseus, in Homer’s scroll,
.. He himself, Odysseus, conjures a Dead Soldier’s Ghost,
.. .. a stupid friend, stupid, stupid fellow-soldier who was
.. .. Willing Cannon Fodder, back in their ancient time,
.. .. and got himself KILLED for ABSOLUTELY NOTHING,
.. .. o stupid friend! you got “Yourself Killed”, a fantasy.

.. Hard sailing, Odysseus and crew find fiery Dark Island,
.. .. island having Famous Caves going way clear down,
.. .. down to LANDS to WHERE DEAD PEOPLE GO.
.. Caves where old Scroll says Odysseus climbed down,
.. .. finally took the little boat across the flaming River Styx.

.. This is in Homer’s scroll in D’s library,
.. Odysseus did all that, and the Crew came in the ship too,
.. .. all for purpose to ask their dear stupid dead friend
.. .. Ask those who charge into OBLIVION in FANATIC GLEE.
.. .. Ask them why do soldiers keep doing that stupid sht??
.. .. .. Friend answered HAD NOT LEARNED ANYTHING MUCH
.. .. .. from dying or being dead, complained how very dull
.. .. .. the Brave Heroes Hotel was, seemingly a wry remark
.. .. .. by war veteran Homer on army life,

.. Yet a Genius Remark about war, and genius plot device…
.. No special nothing for heroes, for heroes no specials at all??
.. To poor Odysseus that is pure music to the ears,
.. .. his heartbroken and heartbreaking wish,
.. .. to just GO HOME WITHOUT SHAME.
The end of Homer’s epic has grown closer.

In “Dr. D’s” library, pasted inside the ancient Homer scroll,
you find D’s whole Armada Conjuration Spell in code.

Symbolically, behind the doors of his Alchemy Laboratory,
Good Dr. D’s hands full of magical artifacts and gestures,
Step by step, verse by verse, brave Dr. D was acting from
the scroll, hard voyage there, weird island landing,
the climb of Odysseus down, the fiery boat,
the spirit chat, and finally back up.

Of course for the chat D. calls the Greatest Sailor Ever,
and don’t mention no stupid philosophic absurdities,
– We read this in the coded notes he left in the Library,

.. Dr. D. in his Alchemy Lab PLEADED with the ancient Spirit,
.. He pleaded with Odysseus for SPECIFIC CLEAR PREDICTIONS,
.. !! Not only for the imminent sea battle !!

.. For he mentions Homer says Odysseus was a sailor AND KING.
.. So, In our terms, Dr. D. pleaded for the complete Big Picture.
.. .. In our terms, hoped for wide long panorama glimpse of,
.. .. we would say, the new Political and Military World of
.. .. Western Europe which that battle did actually bring,
.. .. knowledge of the whole pervasive spirit of an age.

Of course a Nation’s Seer asked for all that.
Assuming that we understand the code.


Foretellers of National and World Events !!
Or of the whole pervasive spirit of a coming age.
Queen Elizabeth the First’s official Necromancer.
You think it’s rare? It’s not.

From most every time and place in Human history,
Official Foretellers of this sort appear here and
there in old records and remembered magics.

State Divination.. Worldwide normal practice forever
till the iron grip of Modernism tightened on societies,

Till the Very Idea was ridiculously obsolete,
OUT OF FASHION in the new class that
came in with George Washington,
just two centuries following Elizabeth.
(So we see Divination is profoundly Politics.)


!= The Famous Hippie Good New Age Theory Explained =!!
That theory as amended, footnoted, parsed, and haggled by..
Serious Witches USA, .. 1970’S into 1980’s.

=>Please note<=
This is written by a person quite saturated and inundated,
by the Most Liquid of the famous Great Chinese Classics,
.. Largely from Confucius, ..
… “I Ching” which in poetry i call “The Watercourse Way”.
… The World is LIQUID in I Ching and The Universe is too. ..
… Personally, i’ve been saturated in it for MANY years, I Ching.
… So back then in those years,

..Me talking “Good New Age” in our Festivals and Covens, ..
… I conceived this frippen Theory NEEDS..
… !!..a “Rushing Water Sublime Power” metaphor..!!
.. And that metaphor is included below.
=>Thank you<=

Serious Witches USA, .. .. 1970’s to 80’s
.. At first still steeping in recreated dignified non-self-assured,
Old Country Stonehenge ways of doing absolutely everything,
stirring cauldrons, weaving wicker spells authentically, etc. etc,
.. .. And constantly with..

Out of such a hightone neighborhood of Stonehenge,
us Serious Witches USA, us reluctantly and slowly
hiking all the long way to Far-Outer Hippiedom,
We most set camp in Deep Green Theology’s
very pleasant shade by maybe 1987.

Putting our movement well poised to, with much interest,
Enjoy, recognize, cogitate and consider the implications of, the
Whole Big Picture of New Age stuff..
Just as soon as the big spotlights of Popular Culture switched on.

But now ASTROLOGY appears suddenly in the tale,
which no one, i least of all, expected!!
.. for i, having focused so on my beloved dead,
.. and swallowed Tarot, and I Ching too,
.. in ancient gardens where i loved Inanna,
.. With this focus on my own aggression toward Death,
.. i was beaming Focused Expectance at Jane Roberts,
.. the Fox Sisters, Jung, and his Campbell instead!!!
What?? .. i said, when i started hearing of it,
Astrology? ASTROLOGY ????
WHY ??

I took the Deluxe Class by the two Astrologers of Boston,
Famous Lesbian Couple with.. .. !!.their own book store.!!,
.. way out at our Conceptual Map’s distant Left edge,
.. way out at Harvard Red Tram Line’s very far end,
in the Boston Anti War Days, way back then,
a bookstore storage space with college desks,
i took the Premiere Astrology Class available,

And i couldn’t even understand my own notes.
So i said with pleading emphasis,
“Astrology? Why??”


!!= My “Rushing Water Sublime Power” Metaphor =!!
(- modeled on an elder voice of the revered i ching -)

=>> :: Monsoon inundation cycle in vast far ::
:: Upland inland provinces of China, ::
:: Thru a continent’s volcanic mountains ::
:: The great River Gorges System, ::
:: Titanic hydraulic stair steps thru hard mountains, ::

:: Each great ridge’s lip, successive bottlenecks thru volcanic ridges, ::
:: Each narrowing so drastically, already almost plugging on its level, ::
:: Then ocean winds’ long cycles blow ocean’s moisture so far north, ::
:: That level’s each broad plain, and stream, and valley flooded utterly, ::
:: Till it all flumes off thru great flagon’s narrow neck of jagged canyon, ::
:: In planetary water motion’s long long wheels-within-wheels schedule, ::
:: Earth’s turvey-tipsy rotation of the kinds of matter into different places. ::

And this..
:: In some unexplained way, those immense monsoon cycles..
:: in those thickly settled places..
:: !!.Total re-arrangement of the entirety of all human affairs.!!

And finally..
:: Thru some apparent but unexplained link,
:: In some unexplained way an accurate chart of the ancient immense
:: China monsoon inundation cycle was written on, or discovered in,
:: The Zodiac Stars.

Well, in my experience, quite a good metaphor.


I remember the time we got it spotted.. THE BOTTLENECK,
and I will tell you this: we had.. Best Diviners’ Eyes Looking FORWARD..
and thereby we also found.. Vast Expansion After.

When we realized the abnormal blockage in psychic vision
from the Earth’s time then,

With so many strong conflicting opinions
. making New Age thinking seem hopelessly vague,
. And yet all parties agreeing….
. Definitely agreeing… An ultimate focal moment…

When vast new influences would burst
into the minds and hearts and lives of humans,
bursting with the vital strength of meltwater floods,
Vast new influences blooming as Great Good or Great Bad,
a Bad New Age or a Good,
as we are fit and ready to understand, enact, and be them,
these forces said to be concentrating toward one moment.

Some moment, any moment, near you and i here,
when the feeling and texture of life would-will-did
change in deep ways.

Definitely expected by us then, an ultimate focal moment,
When, according to the theory as we took it,
.. Like a pin in a hinge whereon a huge gate resists then turns,
.. Or like a brew come to boil may suddenly transform itself,
.. Or like as if that instant of ultimate concentration were..
.. .. Itself, all of Reality intruding,+

And yet, whatever straining metaphor,
The Old shall cast its shadow deep into the New.

Particularly i remember one very good,
++ and very frightening ++
Short Pointed Chat.

.. One evening,
.. .. by virtue of our thriving years of Artistic Homemade Festivals,
.. .. this autumn evening probably in 1985 to 87,

.. Ran into one of our finest Readers,
.. .. Evening, back porch, in the smoking corner,
.. Thirty feet back from a small excited crowd,
.. .. In Friends-Who-Are-A-Couple’s forested yard,
.. .. waiting for the summons to Main Ritual where,
.. .. .. Huddled on forest damp earth, we’d endure a very long meditation,
.. .. .. Then, blindfolded, we would take part in ancient mythic drama.

.. And this Respected Gardnerian visiting,
.. .. in this Samhain evening,
.. .. from her home in a distant corner of the region,
.. We had this sharp pointed chat that frightened me.

All this congregation gathered out in the yard under tall trees,
.. Peremptorily herded out of L and R’s now-dark house, out into
.. the cooling dusk, soon adjusting their forest winter cloaks and hats,
.. for they will endure long meditation, then immerse themselves drama.

In a night when spirits walk inside you,
in flickering light of small lanterns,
.. [That year L or R had NOT assigned me to slip hushly thru
.. .that hushed scene’s shadows doing mysterious things,]
.. .. So me sharing a deep hit of Profound Smoke with
.. .. a Respected Person who practices my trade,

A Regional Gathering awaiting start of a Ritual Of The Dead.

Ran into a fine Reader from some far corner of New England,
Gathered at a very well-attended Autumn event by my friends
L and R, where i always attended.

It’s like ritual there always turned up bits i got dropped in to propel,
and there i was so comfortable, and powered up and fully smoked,
So voiced to her, in one puff, maybe two sentences, my findings,
my findings on this New Age stoppage of looking ahead,
And asked for hers. – – Yes, her findings equally dour.

She sketched a Special Project at it by her covens,
with the same repeated failure as i and friends,
trying hard to see The Future Of The World.

Our Smoke was finished,
and we were gathering up our witchy things,
actually to literally wander off into the woods,
but a final thought .. .. To my worthy confidante..

.. .. “I am calling it THE BOTTLENECK.”
.. .. .See I’m like.. “Everything is fluid, vortexing down
.. .. .. an ever-narrowing spout,
.. .. .. .. and Vision Light cannot penetrate
.. .. .. .. a vast EXPANSION that is just insanely vast,
.. .. .. .. immediately on exiting the bottle’s mouth.”

.. .. I’m like that, and i ask her,
.. .. “Would you call it a “Bottleneck??”

And my Good Colleague in the Occult says,
“Hmm. Yeah. The Bottleneck.
It feels like a bottleneck.
Feels like that,

“with Vast Expansion after.”

And I saw she rubbed two fingertips together,
like when feeling cloth, and suddenly a strong
sensual intimation i’d been feeling took a place
inside my concepts.

Suddenly i understood this feeling in these days,
??of the twisting FABRIC OF REALITY
??upon the PSYCHIC fingertips.
It almost feels as if…

Maybe fruit of What-There-Was
reduced to seeds of What-Will-Be.

Maybe a fluid of jewels crystallizing NOW,
each tiny jewel a sheeny pearly shell,
and in its heart of flowing math,
cradles its mystic hyperlink,
all that shining making
space and time to come.

Or, i guess as Old Egyptian Necromancers
maybe would say the same intimations..
Awakened by Isis, Osiris’ fluids stirring,
(( What-There-Shall-Be .!!:Stirring:!! ))
in the substance of What-There-Is.

Or a million million weightless flower
blossoms falling thru an endless sky?

> But We Must Note…
It is hard to see any hope in this,
even if you make any sense of it at all.

> Or…
??.. Is this astonishing idea of vast reshuffling and reshuffling,
.. .. of really everything,
.. .. and on some Cosmically Intimate level Really Everything
.. .. fading out and fading in, excruciatingly and bewilderingly
.. .. sluggish flicker show of incomprehensibly jumbled spaces.
??.. Is this idea more use to you, if you set Hope entirely aside?


!!.Yes, It Was A Fikkin Frippin ART MOVEMENT.!!
If you aren’t seen that yet, you don’t deserve for me to tell you.
All of this is ARTIST TALK, you know just ARTIST TALK.

By the Good Gds,
Did you think i was going Barking Mad in “Section F “??
!!=>.Military Alliance with the Fungi World of Earth.<=!!

Surprising lovely fun pastiche poem up above,
Tense Reader fears the writer’s barking mad,
for it has the pure and definite sound of real belief.
yet none of it can be believed by you.

Then final panel turnabout, revealed it’s Artist Talk!
So in the end your self-understanding tells you,
The human myths i’m quoting in “Section F” actually
are the organs and movements of your soul,
set in forms of the art of Human Story.

So in some sense of Human Art,
the seeming nonsense was true.

And realizing that is a useful key to all communicating
human beings do, that human beings are full of myth
in thought, and word, and deed.

You understand,
I AM in alliance with the Fungal World
with my mythical backyard soldier’s post,
for this wild creativity is how my heart
approaches this vast expansion of its love.
Just as sure as Guinevere and Lance-A-Lot
run off and doodle every time you tell it.

And you, my Dear Reader, you know it’s true.
Making Poetry from Myth is what we must do,
to fit our loves, fears, powers into the world.

We humans are filled to overflowing with
a bounteous supply of myths, all sorts,
for every situation of every human life,
and so,
the Artist’s freedom is indispensable
to everything good.

And you, Dear Reader, should learn this…
Poetry, all true Art work, is how you understand too.


.##JUMP-IN POINT.. My blog is “neural” .so. it happens in another post i’m imagining you, yes you, should have a link landing here. ..BONUS:: Unless something’s broken, put the URL in ANY browser window. .. .. URL=>

A Sacred Bull Dance
This is a Mirrror-Riddle in the Philosophy of Erotics.

I’m going to tell my Sacred Bull Dance story, no good pleading,
as it fits in right here perfectly. Sorry.

A Sacred Bull Dance
Context.. The lush flowering of a Nature Worship Art community,
Specifically.. My friends L and R, their yard, a Midsummer evening,
Just a small crowd of invited guests, in a dimly lit circle on their lawn,
New England Pagan Homemade Artistic Festival, Nature Worship 1986,
i’m preparing for performance upstairs,
i’ll explain much more later.
Ritual Purpose.. To see and greet and know, at Midsummer,
A Great Beast,
as ambassador of distant Winter.
Yes, it’s Erotics.

Recently swore independence from restraint, New England Pagans,
Fantastic success of our Mysticism Scholarship in finding endless
rich material, for any art even one or two of us picked up,

A Sacred Bull Dance
This is a Mirror-Riddle in the Philosophy of Erotics, this version
drawn on the artist’s scholarly researches focused on the Greeks
and Stonehenge, in general all the Human lore of Great Beasts
everywhere, in youth ineradicable contact with American West’s
Great Buffalo, a mythic encounter on tragic, tragic, tragic ground,
And wove the ivy step in many Fairy Hills.. Gd Gds why not?,
And that time the artist just got slammed in the head by
a pure and sublime lesson in Korean Shamanic Dance.

So, you understand,
The NUDE (nude) NUDE
dancer this evening has that resume.

:: Warning ::
:: There is a fifty percent chance you will DISAPPROVE of this story.::

Why am I taking this extreme measure?
Because There’s Something I Really Really Want You To Understand.
Look at it like this..

The Whole World ..of.. Human-Made Arts Habitable for Humans.
We can go pitch tents and beget a camp anywhere in Human Arts,
and discover all the Human Arts are still intersecting there too.
And Reality is colored and shaped there, yet being still Reality.
Does that make sense to you yet?

I want you to know that basic fact of metaphysics.
For Human Beings, everything real is real in Human Art.
Why do I so want you to know this?
So you won’t just dismiss everything I say.
This whole blog post is Artist Talk.

.##JUMP-IN POINT.. My blog is “neural” .so. it happens in another post i’m imagining you, yes you, should have a link landing here. ..BONUS:: Unless something’s broken, put the URL in ANY browser window. .. .. URL=>

And so you’re NIMBLE-FOOTED in the world ahead of us.

Look. I’m inserting a footnote for this !!!
In the times when i’m typing this,
finally, at last, BLACK LIVES MATTER,
-and the Slavery Abolition Movement generally-
there is NOW happening in the streets
a circumstance always needed and yearned for..
.. ..
A New Circumstance HAS OCCURRED and IS OCCURRING::
BLACK LIVES MATTER now suddenly is buoyed on
(in the general direction of Victory)
.. ..
By a Seemingly Overwhelming tide of WHITE ALLIES,
The Allies’ hoary wrinkled ranks of activists Suddenly Swollen,
by countless PREVIOUSLY LUCKY, by far the Whites’ largest faction,
who nowadays, AT LONG FEEKING FARKING LAST, they suddenly realized
.. ..
Well, speaking of those folks, speaking in honest understanding thus charity,
the Previously Lucky suddenly awakened, come out to dance in the Street Party,
you must say, in many ways those folks now suddenly have NIMBLE FEET.
.. ..
Well, why is this relevant here??
Why?? Because within US. Pagans, our movement spoken of here,
.. thru EXACTLY the kind of Scholarship and Magic i tell of here,
.. This as a quite wide metaphor for possessing your soul and body.
.. More in other blog posts.
.. .. ..
So pay attention.
.. ..

And look, if you go read my memoir
(in another blog post about the good old days .. {-here-} )
Then don’t worry, this story will not surprise you in the least.

Look, to the point..
I will now tell what it is that you will disapprove 50%.
Even while, then and now,
Me, i’m like it’s 300% Woohoohoo! Wooee! Whahahaha! Wooee!

=>Lured by witches<=
!!>.into a web of Publicly Symbolic sexual deception and surprise.<!!

Me a lonely, lonely, lonely man, that year, lonely, and my friend Lady L,
she had a friend i didn’t know, seen likely twice in passing at their house,
Lady G, the cutest freaking little pixie-bow smile you’ve ever seen,
First real meeting was a film discussion afternoon at L and R’s house.

When we’re formally introduced by L, i just thought whada-fik,
Just right out made a happy easy pass, !so dmn cute!
And oh, i saw the smile. But nothing more.
!!.no further indication.!!
!!.not then, and not till More a few months later.!!
!!.But right there and then, the smile i dmn sure could not forget.!!

Lady L’s friend Lady G, a friend from further off, you see,
a cute cute nice pixie-smile witch i did not know from near the shore
She next trots into my neighborhood visiting Big Spring Campout.
And i heard she arrived at camp, with L and R,
for i’d asked a guy, kind of an azzle but a friend,
working the check-in desk, to quietly watch for G and let me know.

But when i heard it was too late,
i ran but L and R’s tent was already up,
and nobody’s apparently around.

??But was that her peeping at me??
Standing there notice the tent flap is only mostly zipped.
Thru tent flap’s 1-inch open corner see tent is dark and cool inside.
?Is that her peeping at me??

But I was busy teaching!!
That was Saturday, Day 2, main workshop day,
if memory serves i was doing either “Tarot Reading For Beginners”
or “Story Performance With The Classic Old British Isles Material”,
doesn’t matter which, i had a workshop introducing basics,
What to do??

And reviewing options, i realized I WAS POWERLESS BEFORE HER!
By this situation at the tent flap,
Utterly stripped of male volition.
If i spoke her name? whispered to her? sang an aria?
or stand closer and peep in closer?
Me actually thinking “male cat howl and scratch the canvas”.

But that didn’t matter.
All of that, but still she spoke or didn’t,
Accept me to her presence or she wouldn’t,
Suddenly, before her,
me stripped utterly of male volition.

But now about the Nudity.
I was a Nudist,
yes yes A Nudist. Why not?
Not standing there at the tent flap, for Good Gds sakes,
But you bet, any nice weather dawn at Big Spring Campout.

For a while, in the development of our movement,
The proper and efficient, England-based,
Semi-Orthodox Gardnerians,
that faction INSISTED that Nudity Is Purity and MUST be
an option at anything claiming to be a decent Pagan festival,
but unfortunately their
Old England Theology was flawed,
for in fact the sad truth is..

i bet you didn’t know that.
o what a glorious morning there sometimes is,
our big Spring Campout, Dawn, just hang it out,
stride the wide dawning camp in a good looking hat,
and nice waterproof boots!!!
Oh that was STYLE, brother!

What’s sad?
It Went Out Of Style!!
that’s the sad part.
One spring i found i was the last remaining stalwart.
There may have been film.

Now back to L and R’s tent that afternoon,
after my Story or Tarot class,
there is R, a very nice guy, drinking lemonade,
i ask him, says G already gone, won’t be back,
only came that one day, L’s driving her home.

I shrug, shake my head, the feral fool i am, i ask,
“i’m beginning to suspect there’s something up”
and friend R looks at me astonished, shrugs, says,
“i wouldn’t worry too much” and shuts his mouth,
reassured i guess, i shrug back at him.

It would be a fleeting 3 month love affair, sadly,
counting from the later Midsummer evening,
for unbeknownst to me…
you see..

So soon, Sweet Lady G was moving far away,
and you see, you see… My dear confided,
She’d never had a New England Pagan lover.

Dear Reader, by now, If you’re paying attention,
you should NOT be surprised to hear, in the good old days,
my Friend Lady L was maybe the Greatest Artist we ever had..
for MAGIC SPELLS, .. by which we would mean..
All the fundamentals of Human Sacred Ritual Performance.
(-big MYTHIC love spell?? you and him?? shhhh!!-)

The astonishing thing is that I DIDN’T EVEN SEE IT COMING.
I must have been hypnotized.
A spell’s castee, not a comfortable position in any case,
but this was high grade work.
To be frank, i didn’t stand a chance.
And look at me, a Champion Storyteller,
for one year Southern New Hampshire Amateur Guild Champion!!
and i was putty in her hands.
Didn’t even see it coming.

Oh, Lady L was masterful at it.
She only bothered waiting 2 weeks after Campout
She’s overconfident? No. I’m oblivious. I’m like..
(phone ring ring)
“Hello Lady L !
. This Midsummer? Sure, always glad to help.
. Do a Story? Absolutely, got some recent work.
. Oh a Story-DANCE? Haven’t done much lately.
. Thanks, yes, that dance that year did work well.
. Look, what’s the idea for this, IS IT A GOOD IDEA??

Me with a ballpoint pen writing notes..
“Sacred Bull Dance..”
“??? NUDE !!!” i write,
“see and greet and know, at Midsummer,
“a Great Beast..”
“as ambassador of distant Winter??”
“Well,” i said into the phone, “it is original. unique.”
.. It was one of the most peculiar ideas i’d ever heard.

So with such rich metaphysics she embroidered it.
And yet i saw, glimpsed, from the first Sensed what
Divine Vibration would come thru this holy dance..
Bull-Man Enkidu subdued by Harlot Shamhat. .. {.Here.} .. {.Here.}

Bull Dance?
Out of the ground, Old horny Winter leaps up, jumps up,
sniffing round Sovereign Goddess Summer’s perfumed skirts,
and whatever she lets happen in Circle, happens.
“Well,” i said, “probably i can do that.”
I was thinking, It’s a Mirror-Riddle in the Philosophy of Erotics.

L giggled. I’ve never heard her giggle before.
She went for the kicker, pulled this out..
“Defend The Dignity of Nudity As A Spiritual Status!!”
and Hypnotized Horny here responded “yes! yes!”

But Friend L did not EVER tell me this..
Lady G from the first, from their plot’s beginning,

Well, you can imagine the scene, small upstairs bathroom,
The house is deserted, isn’t it? Painting kit i’d packed was now open,
8 generous jars of colors, brushes, rags, the right liquid soap,
distributed among the many faucets, odd shaped bottles, tissue boxes,
my copy of the script opened out to follow, and my portable clock.

Glance out the little bathroom window,
yeah, Circle’s still there. There’s a sign in the hall “USE DOWNSTAIRS”,

And at this instant,
With my 1st big sharp-pointed brushful nearly empty of its green,
I was bending to see back of left shoulder,
chosen 45 seconds before as a starting point,
for a spiral of some sort,
a spiral in some way encompassing the body foliate,
as i had sketched upon myself in oil pastel practice a week before.

Oh no!
It was Gundestrup!, miniature, if you know what that is, {.Here.}
Back of left shoulder, miniature, so with that sparse sticky brush
i was studying how you could next touch one perfect line carrying,
and expanding in some way, Gundestrup onto the left lower arm.
Perfect idiot.

Wait!! There was the Clothes Rack!! Clothes Rack!! I have to tell you!!

Really really actually a TINY bathroom.
So they had to cover the small wall above the sinks with mirror,
So bending stretching for the shoulder i discover my elbow’s
in the mirror, and if i push too hard i’ll fall into the tub,
and be smudged by the shower curtain.

The Clothes Rack,
on the back of the door, it’s ALL FOLDED OUT.
Got a long satin-lined black opera cloak, at the neck just 1 stag horn button,
so it’s down from here to Circle, drop for a big entrance, do the business,
finally snag it off the earth and drape dramatically, and back up here.
That long satin lined opera cloak was on the puny little clothes rack,
and all the street clothes i’d come in here were on it too.

In fact all that’s packed between the door
and the big bulky towels in the towel rack
on the tub enclosure wall.
You can’t open the bathroom door but floor to ceiling a thin crack,
as i was soon to learn.

So i’m all twisted and trying not to fall into the tub.
Door:: Tap-tap-tap .. .. tap tap, .. .. tappa-tap-tap-tap.”

Manage a glance out the window, Circle’s still there,
they are still chanting with billows of incense smoke,
so by the script and clock got 30 probably minutes.

Door:: “Tap, .. tappa-tap-tap, .. tappety-tap-tap .. tap.”

Me:: “It’s occupied.”

Someone clearing throat.
She, oh the lovely voice, just this side of whisper::
“Well, High Priestess suggested …”

And it’s the same sweet voice my gonads memorized
back at the film discussion afternoon, and more words
already than i had heard from those pretty lips since.

On coming uncoiled and seizing the door’s nob,
i was only saved from bouncing off the wall into the tub,
by the soft “wooooofff” compression of the fluffy towels,
with my hand still on the knob.

Me bending round the door and peeking out the crack.
That pretty face!
Me:: “Oooooooooh”.

She, that smile, and not one particle of Coy..
.. the pretty face whispers,
“Well, Our High Priestess, she asked for a volunteer …
.. [..Harlot Shamat, desert oasis, greets Bull-Man Enkidu..] {.Here.} {.Here.}
.. [..!!those very words are verbatim from the ancient manuscripts!!.]
.. (not one particle of Coy)..
.. To body paint you. ..
.. I won.

Me, the perfect idiot, i’m dumbstruck.
But the pretty smile between the door and jam is growing.
This is a lady a foot shorter than me, and all i know is,
while whispering and savoring that devastating eroticism,
she had glanced back and forth, between my eyes,
and something on the wall.

Her eyes deceive me so i try but cannot follow her gaze,
around whatever flesh i’d wedged into the door,
up to the mirrors, back.

I don’t know what body parts she’s smiling at.

She, in those honey tones without a trace of Coy::
“If you let me in,
.. yes, i’d be glad to body paint you, of course,
.. but.. you’d have to reveal to me what you like.

.. .. .. .. .. .. Now, in a sense of decency, let us
.. .. .. .. .. .. draw the curtain on the newfound lovebirds.
Anyway, obviously, that half hour was the wrong half hour.
Restrain your imagination!
This was obviously foreplay, not the main event.
Can you imagine the tension?

O Mercy!
The clock! The smudging if we went too far!
In fact, almost done, the poor lady’s finally overcome.

While changing posture,
carefully kneeling down very close in the right inner thigh,
to continue a big tendril foliate curlicue from somewhere,
reaching there into the brush,
the lady threw on the curlicue, GASPED,
threw down the painting brush,
and fled the room.

But let’s hurry on to discussions…
of the political, and social, and historical, implications
of the REALIGNED GENDER POWER configuration
we see here, and you understand,
i concentrate on Mythic expressions of this,
for this is an Instinctual Classic that humans do.
Let’s dig into that right now.

Well maybe not. There is the Artistry involved.
.. .. One, I chose to leave the lower right leg blank,
feeling strongly it’s a good luck charm for the dance.

.. .. Two, All i’ve ever intellectually known of that performance,
was that i was a Ghost. Ghost somewhere of Bull Of Minos in the ring,
a formidable character of muscle, horns, and hoofs, caught, hemmed,
helplessly encircled, pacing, lunging..

a. By a Circle of Witches over there, in a place i’d stepped from,
b. HERE With Me in the mythic vision….
by the Wonderful Youths of Crete. .. .. .. {.Here.} .. {.Here.}

.. .. Three, What did that art work do in our community?
I do not know.

Oh well, i shrug,
it’s a Mirror-Riddle in the Philosophy of Erotics.


Historical Summary

Speaking of George Washington, continued from above,..
Later, the 1960’s, and that wretched azzlfik patriotic sht
we all grew up gagging on, that JUST FING WORE OUT,
by about early 1956.

I am speaking now of a nascent community of creatives,
we destined to secede from that wretched bliztit, and
become 1970’s and 80’s US. Pagan Seers,

But then..
When we discovered Divination, we discovered immediately,
with desperation, the old magics seemed all dead and/or buried.
Yes, we ignorant novices were to be a FOUNDING GENERATION.

But we took to Tarot, we did,
when we found its Perfect Feature for us….
You can OVERWRITE the whole Tarot deck.
Replace all of its numbers, words, pictures,
now you be talking… YOUR LIFE’S TRUTH,
and now it talks very personally with you.

Just one problem..
that is a SUPERLATIVE ACT of
So we studied magic, its politics, history, anthropology,
soaked our heads full of old myth and metaphysics,
our hands full of copied artifacts and gestures,

Eyes full of Infinity Maps in living Shadow Shapes,
we did magic from the ages, studied urgently in action,
Cobbling up magics in DESPERATE WISH to
in the teeth of the HOWLING GALE
re-making Earth,
re-making all philosophies.

!!And we COULD NOT
get that BIG PICTURE kind of divination to work!!
American Pagans, we have found that service
is decisively OUT OF ORDER nowadays.

The Psychic Atmosphere on Earth today is packed thick
with obscuring high-pressure clouds of smoke and mist
all pumping all of it up into gyres and hurricanoes
of mighty forces we do not comprehend.

Twisting, squeezing, the accumulating planetary heat
instantaneously multiplying exponentially,
to the power of the hourly increasing tempo speed
of world wrecking events.

The very Fabric Of Reality,
Between NOW and Whatever Happens Next,
Twisting twisting tighter faster into a World End
I guess Einstein may have dreamed vividly,
but could not say.

Closer, closer, we see we are approaching “The Bottleneck”,
when our crowd saw it, The Bottleneck was our phrase.
Yes, it’s a booser’s saying, obviously, liquid churning
down a spout,
You’d put down considerable homemade booze
bliztiting and drumming at our moonlight
metaphysics sessions.
Shut up if Sue dances tho.

How does this vast transition work??
Our guess grew from these intimations.
Like a flow of water bursting thru old river banks.
The water prints, retains its sweet or sour flavor,
fresh or poison, at that point in time,

Yesterday at oh-three-hundred hours,
maybe then THE NEW AGE BEGAN.
Or else No, this whole old age,
old edition of Earth has now
expired 3 heartbeats ago?

This version of Our Earth..
Did we already pass the
Crystal World Shift Point
with the Pervasive Nature
of All Of What’s New decided on
Crow’s birthday this year, two-fifteen o’clock?

Or even if next Tuesday or tomorrow.
??Good New Age -or- Bad New Age??
What’s coming next??

When an Old Age inverses to a new,
Supposedly there comes a Singularity instant,
Time as infinite crystal turning inside-out.

And this theory supposedly predicts
the GREATEST LOVE, Good or Evil, of the Old Age,
in that instant will imprint
the CHARACTER, Good or Evil, of the New.

The psychic weather of Earth, this says,
is turning NOW. – To what?
Is there still, perhaps, some chance
for us to make it good?

The Old Age end is almost NOW, i think.
So is there time to take our hearts in hand
and raise them high together, to make of them
a blazing love, a blaze to make a New Age Good??

Perhaps we can. I do not know. Do you?
Such is this Vague Hope miscalled a Theory.


Summary Of Section “H”, My Appeal To Our “Old”
Alright now, please score your personal feelings about everything in Section H.
(Remember Section H is totally saturated unapologetically with THE OCCULT…)

Please score your feelings about this material..
.. 0 points .. … Real Actual Magic is something I would not be interested in.
.. 30 points .. . Utterly scared shidliz by this “magic” stuff. .. And I’m still listening.
.. 80 points .. . Not shidliz anymore but need new pants. .. And I’m still listening.
.. 280 points .. I always loved the Hippies.

If I may use my own ideas to offer you a suggestion,
my respected fellow Psychic Entity and Earthling,

If your score is significantly above Zero in that self-assessment,
Please consider your option to think of
as a Divine Being of some sort,

And at your leisure negotiate some relationship,
with .[[All-That-Is]]. that’s
Above Zero on the Veneration Scale,
– Just consider this as a realistic option for you.

And then with that in mind,
find your way to ACTIVISM
for the welfare of The World.

Thank you. – SR

=:=:= {} =:=:=

Section “I”
( Appeal To Our “Young” )

If you are young,
and expecting to have a pleasant sex life,

then you really want to live among people who see
FREE..FAVORITE..FUN.. activity, i mean am i wrong? NO.

And yet that LED ME ASTRAY thru
A wilderness of
Societaly Engineered malign influences,
Principally School and Movies telling me,
I could proudly find that democracy
in a Foot Soldiers’ barracks’
jolly camaraderie.

Thru the character defects
installed in me with this training,
i was kept a prisoner of US. Army 9 years

Sometimes set to herding Privates toward their doom in running masses,
Sometimes sent with bandages and orders to keep them warm,
I was kept a Trainee then Actual US. Army Corporal 9 years and 30 days.

Thru an utterly confusing, and bewildering, and disgusting,
perverse diversion of Youth’s desire for a pleasant sex life.


My Wild Garden, in this isolation..

Has become, at last, this year,
my Orchard of Hesperidies,
my Paradise in Babylon,
my Pure Eden,
my Center Of The World,
which I have found and entered.

Thousands of multitudes of poets
write of this plain opening to
Selfless Love in Purity,
tending a garden,
and can’t find words,
It’s that deep.

How/Why, in a Garden, does
Divine Nature
whisper so very sweetly into us ?

the very Cells of our Bodies,
in every particle of Human flesh,
this is how to feed our children!!

For so our kind have done
for maybe a quarter million years.

My wild garden, in this isolation,
for our shocking Plague Year One,
This spring and summer of divorce
in my long wedlock to Outer World,

Tying rose reeds with no string,
Black raspberry with woody creeper,
And resorted to slashing grape vine,
I have found…
Here is a Sanctum Sanctorum,
its doors standing open,
and here am i.

In my wild garden, in this isolation,
an idle footstep has often descended
stone cut stairs,
into chambers of earnest prayer,
My footsteps swirling dust
of this lifetime’s long neglect.

And I have found myself in residence.


Section “J”
( sacred way memorial path )

=[: Text I Wrote On The Picture :}=

Found Object
Title.. “All Human Industry”
Warning.. Do Not Touch The Object

Warning Sign if you erroneously
approach Sacred Way Memorial Path,
if you come from across the ant field.

Found Object
Title.. “All Human Industry”
Warning.. Do Not Touch The Object

Much of my yard is devoted to a Sacred Garden, and much of that to something gardeners of these things, across the world, are all really quite fond of, their very own tiny copy, gardened into peculiar flower bed vignettes etc., odd handmade signs and perverse art installations etc, of their favorite Holy Pilgrimage. Of course, always their favorite Holy Pilgrimage is far away, and mine’s very far, far, very far, away in Ancient Greece, Old Athens’ great “Sacred Way” march of Pilgrims to Eleusis.
My very very next blog post is going to be all about this



Thank you for your trust.
-Stone Riley

7 thoughts on “Class Session #5 – Sacred Garden – Holy Statues – Part 2 – Private

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