In the early morning
there is nothing like driving east
on Sherman Way in the San Fernando Valley.
Not too many drivers
on the road
the view of the Verdugo mountains
are straight ahead.
The Verdugos shine with a blue gray hue
bringing to mind my youthful wild days.
The street is lined
with dark green pepper trees
blocks of brilliant yellow mustard greens
freely enhanced with
miles of tall brown yellow wheat weeds
What is still left of this wild valley.
It is a cool windy day
goes round and round.
Made up of different colored leaves
memories that stir within me.
Prehistoric blue gray mountain range
I am getting younger
Coolness on clothes
distance of windy gray sky
I feel 13 again.
Posted in "In the beginning there was a void except for the written word." The Avengers (Band)
Tagged Art, beauty, Daily Prompt, Depth Psychology, Goddess and Home, hue, ode, poems, postaday, spirituality, Verdugo, will-o'-the-wisp, Women, Writing
“To improve the external situation in the world, we must begin by accepting that world as a mother accepts her child; to improve our intimacies, we much extend the same benevolence to ourselves. The acceptance we must cultivate is the same: the emphasis remains on the inner world. As Jung pointed out, “The upheaval in our world and the upheaval in consciousness is one and the same.” We must come home to ourselves with a mothering acceptance, and so give birth to ourselves with a mothering acceptance, and so give birth to true emotion, the basis of all true intimacy. ” Pg 129 Astrology Beyond Ego – Tim Lyons
A while back I had a scary dream. I was with a group of people. We were all running from evil monster zombies. The feeling was dread. We found a train and traveled to the country. It was horrid. The thought of death approaching was a sickness in us all. We found a cabin in the countryside. I had my white cat Mr. Po Po with me. He ran from the cabin out into the darkness of the night. The zombies were there. The monsters were close. I had to run after my cat. Terrified I ran out into the these monsters of chaos and fear beyond enduring. As I found my cat. I Hugged him. I was confronted by the evil that pursued us. Everything stopped. I looked into death and he said this to me,
“I can not hurt you with that cat.”
“You all run in fear and hate”
“Yet there in your hands is your love”
“I can not touch you or harm you with love.”
I was overwhelmed with dread, then fear, and then I felt only my cat’s love. I walked slowly back into the cabin and told the others what happened to Mr. Po Po and me. We all sat in a circle and held hands. We now knew what to do. We sang a new song.
Pluto and the underworld. Pluto and death. Pluto and nuclear weapons. Pluto and power of the underground. Pluto and transmutation. Pluto loves Persephone.
CHORUS Below translated… I hope this is correct!
“Come to the realms of bliss,
great hero, tender husband,
rare example in any age!
Amor returns Eurydice to you;
already she revives and recovers
all the flower of her beauty.”
“I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till I drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.”
~ Jack Kerouac
I grew up during the 60s, 70s and 80s. I was 30 years old when I was bumped blindly into a world of a new education. Each generation I lived though, I loved. As a song, friend or lover, which in fact… all three generations supplied me with abundantly.
I fell into the late 70s punk scene blindly and without any ambition but the rebellious call of youth and ideology built on an underground scene. Yet what I witnessed in the 60s was wildness of a different rebellion. I miss the hitchhiker’s ways. People on the streets at every corner. I felt safe and awake.
Then as I have written before, the end of the 70s brought the multiple attacks of serial killers and we all pulled into ourselves. Now I drive by the many blocks where I grew up and see all the streets are empty. Cars and more cars blindly drive right through my memories of those street kids. They were just hanging and talking. They improvised life without any hand-held device. Only the feel of a hand.
I feel the need to move to a new place where there are no memories. I did it at the end of the 80s. I left to a place of no memories for a short time.
As a culture we have become so pulled into ourselves. I am guilty of this as well. I am not blind to what is going on yet, I am getting to old to do anything about it.
“The Greek poet Orpheus carried Willow branches as a symbol of the inspiration this sound gave.”
I pause outside as bee and lady bug fly around.
Sweet is the nectar from
lemon tree and lavender.
Letting go of worries and
desires that do not serve me now.
An old friend, a song, comes to mind
as my "leaves in the wind."
Perfect are old recorded songs
and the insect, flower and tree!
Somehow as I pause in breathing,
I am lost in this perfection.
The recurring of pause of being,
the repetition of listening to old songs
the heartfelt listening and watching nature,
Is my catalyst for artistic expression.
Never to let us down !!
Posted in "In the beginning there was a void except for the written word." The Avengers (Band)
Tagged Alternative music, Art, beauty, Daily Prompt, Goddess and Home, nature, poetry, postaday, punk rock music, spirituality, Women
I AM BE !!
Set or Anubis on T-Shirt…. both are cool..
Baubo (Greek: Βαυβώ) is an old woman in Greek mythology who jested with Demeter, when Demeter was mourning the loss of her daughter, Persephone. She is also known as Iambe.
Current and new like the fresh fallen show or a baby’s behind…
ANother terrible and worthless piece of crap comic from the Flopside Bubblegum comic series…
Hitler as an Art Student…
A jerk that was willing to pose for a good cause… his words not mine…
It seems contrary that Venus goes retrograde
As Spring vividly approaches!
The underworld is spilling upwards
I’ve noticed shadows and illness
Addiction, handicaps, and depression.
My heart is hurt and overwhelmed.
Man at the parking lot asking for money
Young man in a wheelchair
As parents push him through the supermarket
his eyes deep in a world of despair.
I hold on to the pain as it washes over me with tears
Helpless tears of acknowledgment and power
As we walk through these dark times
To acknowledge it all with observing hearts
That hear and feel!
We help by our vibrations of
compassion, empathy and caring.
A silent prayer of hope,
So, the wounded can find a gentle joy
That pleasure brings
upon their vivid blood-red hearts.
She knows and she descends to us
the gift of her sweetness
for all times.
Walking with those that hold the lanterns
In the dark desending spiral into the underworld.
Light that eliminates the darkness
By acknowledgment, letting go.
As hearts grow in applied ways
This is our wisdom
A balm for our world…
Breast bending up
Chest falling down
And love will be found there too.
Venus on seashell, from the Casa di Venus, Pompeii. Before AD 79.
Posted in Holly Duval Cornell's Poems & Pose
Tagged beauty, current-events, Depth Psychology, Esoteric, Goddess and Home, nature, poetry, postaday, Venus Retorograde, Women, Writing
Last night’s dream set me on a journey of murder and fear. I left my car’s break off and it flew down the hill knocking down people, places, and things. Yet, somehow, I ended up in a cave / loft underground looking up on a reflection of Our Lady of Guadalupe. There were five or six of us looking up, out of the loft. A wood ladder hung upon the opening and straw was all around. I started to hum a song.
I did some research and found out that this song has an interesting history separate from Latin or the Catholic Church.
Franz Schubert Opus 52, 7 songs set to Walter Scott’s epic poem Lady of the Lake. (1825)
“My hope, my heaven, my trust must be,
My gentle guide, in following thee.”
― Walter Scott, The Lady of the Lake
Illustration for Lady of the Lake, Richard Westall British | 1765 – 1836
Original text for Ellens dritter Gesang III is Scott/Stork Text before Lain text “Catholic Ave Maria” (Hail Mary).
“The rose is fairest when 't is budding new,
And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears;
The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew
And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears.”
― Walter Scott, Lady of the Lake
Ellen’s Third Song
“Hymn to the Virgin” by Sir Walter Scott
Ave Maria! maiden mild!
Listen to a maiden’s prayer!
Thou canst hear though from the wild;
Thou canst save amid despair.
Safe may we sleep beneath thy care,
Though banish’d, outcast and reviled –
Maiden! hear a maiden’s prayer;
Mother, hear a suppliant child!
Ave Maria!Ave Maria! undefiled!
The flinty couch we now must share
Shall seem with down of eider piled,
If thy protection hover there.
The murky cavern’s heavy air
Shall breathe of balm if thou hast smiled;
Then, Maiden! hear a maiden’s prayer,
Mother, list a suppliant child!
Ave Maria!Ave Maria! stainless styled.
Foul demons of the earth and air,
From this their wonted haunt exiled,
Shall flee before thy presence fair.
We bow us to our lot of care,
Beneath thy guidance reconciled;
Hear for a maid a maiden’s prayer,
And for a father hear a child!
Posted in the Esoteric heart beat...
Tagged "Hymn to the Virgin" by Sir Walter Scott, 7 songs set to Walter Scott's epic poem Lady of the Lake. (1825), Alternative music, Art, beauty, Depth Psychology, Ellen's Third Song, Franz Schubert Opus 52, Goddess and Home, hope is brightest, spirituality, Underground, Walter Scott, Women
Corpus Hermeticum “Isis teaching with Hermes Trismegistus at her right hand and Moses at her left. ” (fresco, Renaissance, Vatican, 1493) ~ Pinturicchio, Classical and the Christian.
Io: Leaping in torments of hunger I come
With a furious rush, the victim
Of the cunning and jealousy of Hera
Suffers what I suffer?
~But mark out clearly
The Fate that will be mine in time
To come; what remedy, what medicine for ill?
Tell me, if you know them:
Speak to the virgin who wanders in misery?
~ Prometheus Bound: 600 ~ Aeschylus
“According to a legend preserved in Aeschylus’s Prometheus Bound, the tormented nymph Io, when released from Argus by Hermis, fled, in the form of a cow, to Egypt; and there, according to a later legend, recovering her human form, gave birth to a son identified as Serapis, and Io became known as the goddess Isis.” Pg. 250-251, Goddesses~ Joseph Campbell
Posted in "In the beginning there was a void except for the written word." The Avengers (Band), extramundane
Tagged Aeschylus, Art, Corpus Hermeticum, Esoteric, Goddess and Home, Hermes Trismegistus, Isis, postaday, Prometheus Bound, Underground, Women