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WAY OF THE SEVEN STARS


Response To That Final Question:

Ignorance is the Bane of Man.
At a distance removed,
Dimly remembered, and
Still not seen distinct,
But yet somehow felt;
What we do sense
Is not reality; is not the Real Thing.
This World is hologram.
Then; for lucid sleep;
For it's just a dream
Within another dream
And we are not awake.

Seven Stars' Song of Revelation

Ignorance is a jail where no escape
Is possible but through knowledge.
Don't fear nor spurn. Dare to learn:

Assent to and accept this world as it is
Before attempting ascent to any world
Aspired to or wished for. Life's glorious!

That That Is can be known but by few.
Not space, not time, not gravity exists;
But as Extension from Field of Thought.

Be subject to neither church nor crown.

Dread naught. Disdain none: Not One!
Absent That That Is, there's Nothing.

That That Is, IS. That That's Not, IS, too.
That That's Not makes That That Is: IS.
That That Is makes That That's Not BE.

By rowing to That That Is, I become "I."
Wind + Water = Wave. As THOUGHT is
The Heart and The Nave of The Wheel.

Worlds are created from Thought alone.
That which we will do is because of that
What we are. We'll become who we are.

Charity, courtesy, civility, compassion,
Are cardinal spokes making civilization;
Chivalry forms center, hub's circle core.

IS is! Be not the slave of some other's I.
This, Creed of our Seven Stars Society;
This, The Teaching of the Seven Stars:

No man can be happy if he should choose
To be exile from his own nature and soul.
ALL IS THOUGHT ILLUMINATING BEING

Precognitive Prescient Prophetic Poetry by WILLIAM O'CONNOR

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Canoe

The sea, the sky, the seizure of waters trembling in a rippled wake,
In this slippery silence, in the sudden waking river's morning mist,
Canoe a-heading home smooth sliding ashore; to dock in the dawn.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Mice

Mice eating the grain of conscience are these preachers, these politicians;
Thin-lipped men, who grant a smirk to others, while pocketing their credit.


Poachers and pederasts, they lecture and they'll advise, but have no skill;
Only of poison they serve in their schools and chapels of abject servitude.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Conundrum

Concerning ourself with the greater questions, with the ancient problems;
Not in an expectation of solving them but to make ever new riddle of them:
A restatement of existence.  That's science and that's the real religion too.

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Titanic

A frenzied citizenry is caught in a sinking State. The stumble of this fiscal
Storm that's rushing down upon our head topples any remaining morality,
Making for grey men in a grey ship, who will sell themselves for security.
Tearing seams, sabotage occurs, then denial; resulting in rejecting reality.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Weary

The weary fraud that became this world shimmers in hesitant beauty.
Smoke flows and falls from fires in cold November, tracks the ground,
And never rises higher.  There is never a leaping upward of the flame.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Birch

Slender, the silver bark of birch branches,
Wet-stained to brown-black; peels away,
Shows white; to betray its pale beneath.

Fair Reason Fails

Fair reason fails.  There is no logic in this world, no nether foundation;
Nothing underneath to hold the frail structure up to prevent its failure;
An absence only, a void shadow filled with gray, dumb to say its name.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Slow-Dance

It's slow-dance stagger of jazz of trumpet and trombone.  It's moonlight
Blooming out of saxophone.  It's sparked tamping fingers on piano keys;
Making a music.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

The Un-Named

Something so obvious, so superfluous, that it need not ever be stated; it's
Concealed in the strange delusion of normality, in commonality of what is.


In the mood, darling period of delight, separate from commerce of the day
Beyond the sea-storm of money and of debt, squeezed fit to be measured,
Confined in suit of worth; distant lands lie beneath different colored suns:


Worlds un-named as yet.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

A Contact Life

The fine print of contract has grounded out the course of commerce; has
Made of communication an obscene conversation, but a poem is a phone
Call dialed direct to your heart.  Answer its ring.  Make of it a contact life.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

New Lands

It has the worst of it, the anger and the agony, the anguish of discovery;
An argument sitting in the stomach of humanity is this religion and faith,
That shapes men into a race of sleepwalkers, terrified of demon dreams.


Great and restless minds are final stilled by the stasis of fatal indecision;
Stalled within slow space, jailed in cell between an ambition and despair,
That keeps them bound by chains of conformity, from taking foot outside.


The choking yell of conscience maintains its grip upon the throat of talent.
Small imagination smothers aspiration and tethers fast the reins of society,
That yoke back youth from embarkations; from their destined explorations,


Of new lands.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Baroque

Harpsichord and harp, strung horizontal and vertical, make for soft music;
A plucking sound, careful and considerate; none too loud for conversation.
A cleanness and precision, an exactness in the tempo, not too fast or slow;
Within a music that has nothing of regret only hope realized in each chord.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

That

An almost named thing, slipped from the tongue, receding into distance:
Yes. That!  Used to have answers.  Don't have any anymore.  Gone away.


Gone away from me.  They don't listen.  They got them something to say.


Fat men talking of sports they could never play, knowing nothing of skill;
A tired people, speaking of tiresome events, over and over, looped again.

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Quark Inquiry

Curved small into a tight cocoon of energy, crunched tiny close by gravity,
Its nucleus stripped of its garment of planet electrons, in greatest tension
Within the smallest arc; a quark sits, awaiting its fate; does it exist or not?


Do I?  Do you?

WILLIAM O'CONNOR

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