Category: Samsara

slouching toward bethlehem

On By ©️K.T. 2025In Crone, Crone Consciousness, Didion, Joan Didion, Life, Life and Death, liminal, liminality, Poem, poet, poetry, Samsara, threshold, time, YeatsLeave a comment

i resist stirring, opening my eyes, or thinking

as the dog wakes, and waits

i am in the center of another dawn-dream,
on the precipice of
experiencing some thing, of understanding some thing

but it cannot hold,

evaporating
with every
slouch toward consciousness

i open my eyes to
the grey of the room, to the dark white gyre of the sky through these generous windows
i open my ears
to the beat
of crystals pummeling these generous windows,
once and again, realizing
i possess slow thighs,
heavy lungs, a heavier heart,
an entire weighted mass,
and a mind — less than half-known / half-known

i want to re-bury myself in the warm sands of sleep, the enveloping weightless numb
and drift back to
the liminal/

this must be the
feeling
of the fully-gestated
unborn fetus, warm,
quiet, still
waiting to be born
yet resisting being known, moving on

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phenology II

On By ©️K.T. 2025In autobiographical, autumn, being, biographical, climate, Climate Chaos, Climate Collapse, Crone, crone chronicles, Crone Consciousness, Cronehood, Death, Earth hospice, empire, Gaza, Genocide, Hospice, israel, kill lists, kinship, Lament, Lamentations, land, Land Back, Mother, Mother God, Motherhood, mourning, Palestine, phenology, photograph, photography, Poem, poet, poetry, Resistance, Revolution, Samsara, War, ZionismLeave a comment

lilacs re-leaf, re-bloom
in October
hummingbird moths feed,

common lilacs [Syringa vulgaris]
— not cultivars —
in unprecedented re-leaf and re-bloom
October 12, 2024


and simultaneously,

She’s un-be-coming a human be-ing

She’s destined to,

we’re destined to, too


no
need to
tell me, explain
what’s happening

as constant witness,

as constant, remote witness to slaughter,

as constant gardener,

as constant tender,

as constant daughter,


i see.

i recognize.

i know,

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the reincarnation of sylvia plath

On By ©️K.T. 2025In Alchemy, barn swallows, flora, Gnostic, june, ki, kin, liminality, limineen, mystic, Persephone, plath, Poem, poeme, poet, poetry, Psychic, Rebirth, Reincarnation, Samsara, sylvia plath, witch, witchery, women, WomenfolkLeave a comment

this was the summer of
broken limbs on trees, animals — and men
this was the summer of
the fuck-it, no-good vegetable garden
this was the summer of
“not this year”, “but, maybe next,” — again
this was the summer of
the i-still-can’t-believe-she’s-dead birthday
this was the summer of
nesting swallows, wicked sparrows, and a fallen starling nestling, whom she fed, and kept in her pocket for future starlight
this was the summer of
hanging baskets heavy with rainbow gazanias and pots full of midnight black petunias — for balance — incessant dead-heading and concrete stains, a small price
this was the summer of
the blue serpent; of serpentine bracelets and of the serpent-printed dress — she to be photographed on this land with the flowers, the dog and the bird, like Frida
this was the summer of
first-realizing she may be the reincarnation of the spirit once-embodied in
Sylvia Plath

Sylvia Plath & her crystal gazing ball.
photo: Eric Stahlberg, 1954
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the deception of the Sun

On By ©️K.T. 2025In Death, demiurge, earthlings, Existence, Genocide, grief, Poem, poetry, Samsara, Sun, Sunrise, Sunset, Tree of Knowledge, WarLeave a comment

the Sun just keeps on shining
setting and rising,
setting and rising
while
the People
of Palestine,
of Congo,
are genocided

the deception of the “life-bringer” Sun on yet another day of genocides

did you know that Yaldaboath only feigned dismay
when Cain blew his own brother away;
then He later told Abraham to kill his own son,
just to prove that he was obsessed enough

you know, that dear Jesus
in heaven comfortably stayed
all throughout the Trans-Atlantic slave trade,

and that Allah had no problems with the Caliphates
and The One True God was all about The Crusades

and that Creator ignored the prayers and the pleas
of First Peoples slaughtered by steel,
starvation, and European disease

and that Yahweh was pre-occupied during the Holocaust
busy planning and inciting the Palestinians’ cruel loss

from Auschwitz to Al-Shifa,
He so craves burnt offerings
His global portfolio — built solely on dead things

He created the Sun to grow His tainted Seeds
Horror by daylight,
His Grand Design? — what a fucking death scheme

Auden once begged to “dismantle the Sun”
for the loss of his own be-loved one

but Hark!

for the loss of our collective soul,
dismantlement’s just not good enough,
leave Him no parts, no plans
to re-build and restart!

Extinguish His goddamn Sun!

and forever, and evermore,

Let there only be Dark!

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Lenten

On By ©️K.T. 2025In Exegesis, Gnosis, Gnostic, Nag Hammadi Library, Pneumatic, SamsaraLeave a comment

I think it’s only fair /warning/ to provide the last line, first:

“To know these ten principles of gnostic Christianity is to court disaster.”

“The Gnostic Christians of the second century believed that only a special revelation of knowledge rather than faith could save a person. The contents of this revelation could not be received empirically or derived a priori. They considered this special gnosis so valuable that it must be kept secret. Here are the ten major principles of the gnostic revelation:

“The Ten Major Principles of the Gnostic Revelation” (1978)

  1. The creator of this world is demented.
  2. The world is not as it appears, in order to hide the evil in it, a delusive veil obscuring it and the deranged deity.
  3. There is another, better realm of God, and all our efforts are to be directed toward:
    a. returning there
    b. bringing it here.
  4. Our actual lives stretch thousands of years back, and we can be made to remember our origin in the stars.
  5. Each of us has a divine counterpart unfallen who can reach a hand down to us to awaken us. This other personality is the authentic waking self, the one we have now is asleep and minor. We are in fact asleep, and in the hands of a dangerous magician disguised as a good god, the deranged creator deity. The bleakness, the evil and pain in this world, the fact that it is a deterministic prison controlled by a demented creator causes us willingly to split with the reality principle early in life, and so to speak willingly fall asleep in delusion.
  6. You can pass from the delusional prison world into the Peaceful kingdom if the True Good God places you under His grace and allows you to see reality through His eyes.
  7. Christ gave, rather than received, revelation; he taught his followers how to enter the kingdom while still alive, where other mystery religions only bring about anamnesis: knowledge of it as the “other time” in “the other realm,” not here. He causes it to come here, and is the living agency of the Sole Good God (i.e. the Logos).
  8. Probably the real, secret Christian church still exists, long underground, with the living Corpus Christi as its head or ruler, the members absorbed into it. Through participation in it they probably have vast, seemingly magical powers.
  9. The division into “two times” (good and evil) and “two realms” (good and evil) will abruptly end with victory for the good time here, as the presently invisible kingdom separates and becomes visible. We cannot know the date.
  10. During this time period we are on the sifting bridge being judged according to which power we give allegiance to, the deranged creator demiurge of this world or the One Good God and his kingdom, whom we know through Christ. To know these ten principles of gnostic Christianity is to court disaster.”

Selections from “The Exegesis”
By Philip K. Dick

Ashes to Light.

Lent (n.)

“period between Ash Wednesday and Easter,” late 14c., short for Lenten (n.) “the forty days of fasting before Easter” in the Christian calendar (early 12c.), from Old English lencten “springtime, spring,” the season, also “the fast of Lent,” from West Germanic *langitinaz” long-days,” or “lengthening of the day” (source also of Old Saxon lentin, Middle Dutch lenten, Old High German lengizin manoth). This prehistoric compound probably refers to increasing daylight in spring and is reconstructed to be from *langaz “long” (source of long (adj.)) + *tina- “day” (compare Gothic sin-teins “daily”), which is cognate with Old Church Slavonic dini, Lithuanian diena, Latin dies “day” (from PIE root *dyeu-“to shine”).

Compare similar form evolution in Dutch lente(Middle Dutch lentin), German Lenz (Old High German lengizin) “spring.” But the Church sense is peculiar to English. The -en in Lenten(n.) was perhaps mistaken for an affix.

Online Etymology Dictionary

New Me.

On By ©️K.T. 2025In Poem, poetry, Politics, SamsaraLeave a comment

And, most of the World,
well, at least, the entire mattering World
came together
for one brilliant night and
even part of the next morning
with a somewhat contemplative,
protracted, very long, somewhat meditative
five ENTIRE minutes squeezed in between

And, it came to pass that there
were nearly 18 continuous hours
of agreed-upon
global activism and change-making
that had not been witnessed for exactly
364.24153644 days, previously

The World’s manifesto:

Whereas, starting tomorrow, January 1
life will be better,
so much better, different, good, great even

Again, they each individually proclaimed:
starting tomorrow, January 1
life will,
might, may, could be better, so much better, different, good — or great, even!

Ahem, that is, to be clear, not your life,
just mine.
new year, new me.
Me. Me. Me.

keep your Sun,
give me the Moon.

(inspired by mckersin: “Just helps that the world’s energy is all in agreement that we doing everything different now”)

Famêlée

On By ©️K.T. 2025In C.G. Jung, Carl Jung, Exegesis, Gnosis, Jung, Jungian, Knowledge, Life and Death, Mother, Ode, Rebirth, Reincarnation, Samsara, Spiritive, Transistion, Word, WordsLeave a comment

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This feels like an arrow
Made from a tree
That rose from
An acorn
That I gathered and stored
In another life

Scribed with a message continually
piercing my heart

I wasn’t only wounded though,
I was woke
into a clarity
that I was already sighting in my dreams,
writing with words
mortal and eternal

You once said, proclaimed or whispered
Every single thing
that I ever believed
My own truths embarrassed in the shadow of your confidence
My inner voice silenced in your animated persuasion
Believing you so completely – for the better of my years
Becoming like and unlike you because of it,
but not be-coming me,
Un-be-coming me every day

I ain’t even mad
You don’t know this – still,
You don’t want
to hear,
or listen;

Our time is running out
Even this admission
Is sure to haunt me one day,
and guilts me today

But I can’t call you confidant or crone
If you refuse to learn,
to evolve,
From this one archetype

The wide and long view
seems to escape you
You live in the moment in the least way, the worst way
And I don’t worship here or there, any more
The faith in your godliness is gone,
It is unfamiliar
For me to pity you
You, deaf and tone deaf

You had all the answers
In the morning shallows, perhaps
But evaporation revealed even those
Were anchor-less, yet stationary
An algae
Mucking up the colorless perfection of sunlit water

But in the deep, or dark, or quiet pools, you were always so lost
And in the ocean, at night
You drown even in its calm
You have ridden civil swells and storms,
I’ll give you that
But have you ever communed with waves
Allowing them to be part of you
Swallowing and absorbing the mystery
Becoming the colorless perfection of dark water

You seem to stay parched
Your belly’s hollow from impious fasting and pious thirst
You do know that’s where your heart sits?

But let’s agree to come around again, friend
We’ll swap places and next time
I’ll be the mother,
and the son,
and the husband,
and the elder,
and the babe,
and the foreign one,
I’ll become The Other One
because,
I want the chance to know
You