Thursday, December 15, 2016

Good morning and Welcome! to The Fool’s Tarot for 15Dec2016. I’m not writing squat today, the Muse has deserted me. Which is fine, because I know the pagan wench is off to service other clients at the moment – she will be back, though, of that I never fail to be sure. So, instead of me blathering at you for 1000 ± 50 words about my craptacular draw of the morning and my often over-fine interpretations, I would simply like you to read these two poems in light of today’s cards (nevermind what they symbolize or what position, etc. Just accept the 3 cards as the spread, no labels.) If nothing else comes to mind, regard the poems with this mantra at the back of your noggin; “Initiation through death into Manifestation in the Material.” See where that takes you. I ask the Cosmos to grant us ALL a different set of eyes today. Be Well!

Ancient graphics etched on the wall,
With myrrh and frankincense drifting
Along the sacred temple of the gods;
Where fragrant smoke burns, a Pharaoh’s rite.
Homage to higher spirits are encased,
Prints of cobra, ankh, and kohl eyes
Trace a lavish tomb with gems crowned
On the pyramid of afterlife.
And light-waves capture age-old stories
Through imaging where eternity walks,
With older gods, not from this earth
But from a dimension beyond Egyptian stars,
Infinitely mysterious, a vortex undefined.
                                                 - nette onclaud


There is a body stronger than the flesh alone
it is the body of your love, that temple built of desire's stone
quarried from the chaos of your erotic emotions, shaped by destiny's moan,
where neurotic nerves, psychotic passions, fanatical faith and romantic rose chrome
are imported from the four corners of your heart, brought to the mount of your soul zone
upon here, obedience and freedom, submission and domination chalk and chisel to the bone,
the flame of Shekinah seduces spirit within and without your psychic cyclone
as age becomes an aggregate of obsession's ascensions and avalanches in cycles for you to atone,
Egyptian magicians and Phoenician mariners could only dream of your pulsing fortune,
what do magic rites and the mines of Ophir have to entice with compared to your throne

Hiram, the builder of holy royal bastions would seek the secrets of your star storm home.
                                                                                            - Justin Bordner    

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