Tuesday, September 18, 2012

 


 
 If She So Deems.
Denise Adaya Marcel

 If the Goddess so deemed
She would sleep freed, yet entwined,
 with Her feet curled around your ankle;
your hand resting between Her breasts.
 
Sweet safe breaths;
sighs of unassailability,
sleeping at the entry of paradise,
 acquiescent surrender to security
 and purity and all that is at peace.
 Merely because the Goddess deems.

 I feel such power at the thought
 that all is not for naught.
 With lessons taught
 they are learned,
 they are branded into my heart
and soul and I finally get the jest.

I will ultimately let it lead me
and feed me the light of my future....
the awakened destiny of a goddess
ordained, because SHE so deems.
 
SHE does not cry over spilled love,
 or bemoan the rips in HER vagina, 
or crumble over broken bones.
 SHE does not mourn the past
 or  weep because SHE is alone.
 SHE does not hoard HER heart
 to make HER discomfort last;
 nor does SHE fan
 the winds of bitterness.
SHE simply, Majestically IS.
 
 I am a priestess of the Goddess
 and I am one of the best.  I aspire to be like HER.
 Learning by example, unconditional love, through soul-tests.
 Embracing my everlastingly amber expression;
 this resinous facade that cradles the truth 
for multitudes of women for millions of years.
 Solidified molten release captures iniquity, 
diametrically in tune with the tide of tears. 
 
I surrender to this place upon my quest;
 I offer in payment: all my fears
liquified and riverfied at the Goddesses' behest.
  I know and I flow with who I am,
 I know what I do, and I know what to do.
 I get it, I permit it, and I know what is due.
 
 I entwine my heart,
my fingers and feet about it
 and sleep like an infant in woven comfort.
 I have delivered myself at the doorstep
 of the Goddess and I know why I am here.
I am here to be your sanctuary.
 I am Her reflection,
 She is my vehicle to your perfection.
 
 I am collectible rubbish
 and am treasured beyond measure.
 I am the crystallized jargonaut
of Her inner space and
She is the smile illuminating 
forgiveness of my innocent innerness.
 
 Synchronicity?  Perhaps
 this is why the river always
 flows back to the Ocean.
 The Goddess is forever calling, 
eternally forestalling your damnation.
I swim in the still waters 
of Her slipstream, roiling emotions of dedication.
I am Her living Dream; 
my gratitude sanctifies my disgrace.
 
 Let my silted past settle down restless
 upon the Goddess' regenerating Womb in devotion, 
into the source of all beginingness;
fecund and potent and seeded... 
deeded with noble transformation.
Does the Goddess Isis give birth to Her Champion?
Ask Osiris about the allegiance of His Goddess. 

 
 
 If She So Deems.
Denise Adaya Marcel

 If the Goddess so deemed
She would sleep freed, yet entwined,
 with Her feet curled around your ankle;
your hand resting between Her breasts.
 
Sweet safe breaths;
sighs of unassailability,
sleeping at the entry of paradise,
 acquiescent surrender to security
 and purity and all that is at peace.
 Merely because the Goddess deems.

 I feel such power at the thought
 that all is not for naught.
 With lessons taught
 they are learned,
 they are branded into my heart
and soul and I finally get the jest.

I will ultimately let it lead me
and feed me the light of my future....
the awakened destiny of a goddess
ordained, because SHE so deems.
 
SHE does not cry over spilled love,
 or bemoan the rips in HER vagina, 
or crumble over broken bones.
 SHE does not mourn the past
 or  weep because SHE is alone.
 SHE does not hoard HER heart
 to make HER discomfort last;
 nor does SHE fan
 the winds of bitterness.
SHE simply, Magesticly IS.
 
 I am a priestess of the Goddess
 and I am one of the best.  I aspire to be like HER.
 Learning by example, unconditional love, through soul-tests.
 Embracing my everlastingly amber expression;
 this resinous facade that cradles the truth 
for multitudes of women for millions of years.
 Solidified molten release captured iniquity, 
diametrically in tune with the tide of tears. 
 
I surrender to this place upon my quest;
 I offer in payment all my fears
liquified and riverfied at the Goddesses' behest.
  I know and I flow with who I am,
 I know what I do, and I know what to do.
 I get it, I permit it, and I know what is due.
 
 I entwine my heart,
my fingers and feet about it
 and sleep like an infant in woven comfort.
 I have delivered myself at the doorstep
 of the Goddess and I know why I am here.
I am here to be your sacntuary.
 I am Her reflection,
 She is my vehicle to your perfection.
 
 I am collectible rubbish
 and am treasured beyond measure.
 I am the crystallized jargonaut
of Her inner space and
She is the smile illuminating 
forgiveness of my innocent innerness.
 
 Synchronicity?  Perhaps
 this is why the river always
 flows back to the Ocean.
 The Goddess is forever calling, 
eternally forestalling your damnation.
I swim in the still waters 
of Her slipstream, roiling emotion of dedication.
I am Her living Dream; 
my gratitude sanctifies my disgrace.
 
 Let my silted past settle down restless
 upon the Goddess' regenerating Womb in devotion, 
into the source of all beginingness;
fecund and potent and seeded... 
deeded with noble transformation.
Does the Goddess Isis give birth to Her Champion?
Ask Osiris about the allegiance of His Goddess. 

Saturday, April 14, 2012

We've Dug Osiris' Tomb. Adaya Marcel.

 We've Dug Osiris' Tomb. Adaya Marcel.

Lady of Ten Thousand Names,
Be thou here with us now.
Mother of Love and Burning Flames,

and the most sacred of unconditional love.
Call back your warrior Son, Horus;
Call Him home...I fear he's gone insane.
Mistress of the Womb,
the deeds are done,
revenge extracted, we've dug Osiris' tomb.


Lovely Spirit of the Forgiving One,
Call your warriors home.
She Whose Vision is the Sun...
Horus has only one eye,
the other is an ugly scar, 

his heart has come undone.
Burning..burning...burning...
all he can see is war,
all he can feel is pain.

He can only inflict the same;
all he can do is kill as if he is the only one

to ever feel so intensely 
that it makes you feel insane.

Give him permission to live again.
Creatress of Conditionless Compassion,
have empathy with all his mothers,
restore the sight of our offspring

that we may see a future
help us open ALL eyes; ALL the way

to the way of the ALL.
Sweetness of the Eternal Spring,
remember us to sing the songs
that end all suffering

for Life's Foreverlings.

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Seven Tears of Sekhmet


The Seven Tears Of Sekhmet.
Adaya Marcel.

Walking above the treeline of substantiation,
Sanity slips away; Divinity embraces the Lion.
Sapient mystical stasis, dynamic insurrection;
resurrection of the dying dream from an involuntary scream
coming from a mother who thinks her child is stillborn
but love is never dead upon arrival;
it just depends on your angle of reflection.

Seven years denote the beast which springs from the heart
of a heartless Priest with unholy intentions;
horizontal atmospheric avections,
designed to deny the truth of our perfection.
Mercator projections; a deformed version of our world
rolled up into a regurgitation of tools for subjugation.

Seven tears that Sekhmet sheds are not grief;
they are pearls of wisdom, ruby's of gratitude
and seven energy gates into interconnection.
Perpendicular delineations of dimensions
relating to our greater realities.
Her tears fall below the horizon.

The Universe is mental...Everything is in your ability to receive.
The Universe Talks to itself...through us...if we can allow the vision

The Universe Vibrates continuously...
via our beating hearts, if that be our decision.

The Universe is polarity...
mutual opposition is cooperation.

The Universe is Rhythm...
recurring truth pulsates on the drum of forever's destination.

The Universe is Cause and Effect...
conception, inception and essence of consequence...
depending on investment and delegation.

The Universe is Gender....Engender, Render, Splendorous Regeneration,
Confluence of Yin and Yang; The thought gives birth to the vibration.
Who gestates the difference between fetus and scholar...and natural rhythm;
the causes of youth and the effects of age. 
Man is the Light
Woman is the Hall of records
to be read in the darkness by her counterpart,
together they give meaning to the thought.
which takes us back to the thought.
Eternal is the Thought.




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