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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

Monday, October 22, 2012

The Long Wharf Out: Summer Solstice Section 5

In making of morning a damp clay wearing thunder, black scudded clouds pool. They decreed a prescient woe, a coming Age of Lead descending. Dull color of such dawn spurns ascent of Sun.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

The Long Wharf Out: Summer Solstice Section 4

Saxophone bright, heavy laden burden of midnight blues spin out in wide spirit waves to crash upon the ear relentlessly, relentlessly; sounds of placenta dreams pouring out from its golden oval orifice.   

Thursday, October 18, 2012

The Long Wharf Out: Summer Solstice Section 3

Sometimes the night winds blow giving off a cool sharp kiss with the salt-stung beer taste of the sea. A rasping noise is heard hard coming out the sea; it's the hiss and groan of waves breaking on the shore.

The Long Wharf Out: Summer Solstice Section 2

A wonderment, so sustained, so kept, within a purity, smelling of newness, hard pavement spanked clean, scrubbed, after soft summer rain; can't get away, always there behind me still attitude of joy.

Monday, October 15, 2012

The Long Wharf Out: Summer Solstice Section 1

The rape of thought is achieved in denial of an audience; censured, done deaf by the closing of the ear. Streets in paralysis, held-back, restrained, can only sing knife-fighting songs; for they know no others.

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Grand Central Terminal: Vernal Equinox Section 35

Stuck into despondent detour slows to slothful dependency, to crawling alignment of mind and heart; brakes and dissolves to black, to a shutting down of everything; stalls, deletes and removes from life.

Grand Central Terminal: Vernal Equinox Section 34

There is no warranty on life no guarantee. An angle of a smile may oblique to frown easily enough. Our life makes migration in some flying wild dream of frenzied transport between joy and groan of despair.

Saturday, October 6, 2012

Grand Central Terminal: Vernal Equinox Section 33

Sweet junction of the soul, between what one is and what one does; when we will have that certain knowledge we have finally become what we really are, rather than what the world wishes us to be. 

Thursday, October 4, 2012

Grand Central Terminal: Vernal Equinox Section 32

Give to us a garment of shadows, a cloak of smoke to hide our shame. Our down bending ways made for us shameful descendings, a quick drop into oblivion, into hole of sorrows; the fell into well of hell.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Grand Central Terminal: Vernal Equinox Section 31

Stream of steam clouding evening air, speaking to itself of itself solely, a conversation carried in smoke silence, escaped slow moan in struct stilled night; talks in a sulfurous vapor, to an audience all its own.

Monday, October 1, 2012

Grand Central Terminal: Vernal Equinox Section 30

Agony, of starts and stops, of the many stations between, skipped and abandoned, deserted, desolate; covered in detritus of time by the lost loves and lusts concealed, flails at its failed momentum forward.

WILLIAM O'CONNOR

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