mythology

w-i-p #12 HANGED MAN

*Scroll down for a YouTube video

Crow cawing in early morning clouds
Tallest tree invisible in fog
Tarot’s Hanged Man
Initiation into a mysterious world

Odin hung for 9 days
Euhemerizationally** sacrificing his eye
Think of other mythical and biblical
Heroes hung over the centuries
All in the name of knowledge
Ah, but John Lennon
Knew he was a sacrifice
No worse than others
Yet, in his quest for wisdom
He cried out to us:

“Christ! You know it ain’t easy
You know how hard it can be
The way things are going
They’re going to crucify me” *

He knew, he knew
But tell me who
Would assassinate a rocker?

So many of us
Hanging in silence
Smoke and steam
Muffling our dreams
Then thinking we’ve learned
Slip off the slip knot
Abrading the ankle’s skin
Moving into the Earth’s valley
Carrying new knowledge
But never satisfied
And in time
Wake up to find
We’re back on the tree
Dangling in space
Another lesson to memorize
A path to retrace…

(c) 2018 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Ayla El-Moussa for 25th Century, 2016 Hanged (Wo) Man

* The Ballad of John and Yoko
https://youtu.be/v-1OgNqBkVE YouTube Video

**Euhemerize: Mythology interpreted as having arisen from actual events/people

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SHANGHAI TUNNELS (work-in-progress)

Use for #15 Temptation (new book)

Portland’s Shanghai Tunnels
Chthonic vibrations stirring hair
Survival skill remnant of our DNA
Why shave it away?
Danger
Danger
But my feet continue to trudge
Skin crawls
Pupils dilate
And despite the apocryphal stories,
Documented hauntings,
I continue down these
Historic corridors
Men and boys kidnapped
Sent to sea
Slavery

I don’t believe in heaven and hell
Devils and angels
Because angels and devils
Are here, there, and everywhere
Devils share your office space
And undermine you
Demons crash into your cart in Walmart
Shanghai Tunnels of the past
Enslaved people underground
For galley slaves like Roman days
Slaves
Slaves of every color
Vlad the Impaler slaves
Gypsy blood
Reddening the gates
African slaves tarnished by their pigment
White sex trade slaves craved for porcelain skin

In the past
In the present
In the future
Devils do their work
Angels do too
Corrupting or saving me and you

#15 The Devil in Tarot
I call it Temptation
My birth number
My lesson in life
Is to resist
With an additional caveat
Numerologically adding 1 + 5 = 6
The Lovers
Secondary lesson
Must learn to love
And be loved
Perhaps a little too late for that
But being angelic
Makes more sense
Than being devilish
So I try
(My epitaph:
She Tried)

Devils
You want devils?
Here’s my latest
Hypnagogic vision
Dancing constellations
Stars outlining tomato red
Bodies, faces
Some wearing top hats
Lots of diamonds sparkling
Or are they stars in the sky
Stars for the dancing stars
Ukulele tinkle of 1920s music
And so much red
Devils
Devils are red
What the…?
Force my eyes open
What’s with my head
I preferred the monster images
Seen most of my theta-sleeping life
From the beginning of time
Dancing Devils intertwined with strumming angels
But now, my beloved constellations forever tainted
With visionary blood so painful…

The Underworld, Hades and Persephone
Ruling their version of the Shanghai Tunnels
Keeping Eurydice prisoner
Did she also sing and strum
Like her topside husband Orpheus
Music her comfort in those dark months
Underground?

Visions and insomnia
Disordering my brain
Here’s my newest theory
About the curse of insomnia
And Hypnagogia
Oh, those wild faces as I fall asleep
Can it be
Plato’s Allegory of the Cave?
Reality as shadows
Imagine a slave
Who only sees shadows
On the cave wall
Chained underground
Until one day forced outside
And sees the real reality
Can it be the film The Matrix?
(Supposedly modernized Cave Allegory)
Confusion of reality with dreams
And me with hypnagogic
Monster images
Am I waking, all those years
Living between the matrix
And the reality of creatures
Resembling the monsters
Of my so-called
Sleep Disorder?
The newest are auditory ones
Related to Exploding Head Syndrome
But now I hear snarling
In the night
“I will look after you!”
Is that a good statement or not?
Is it like Vishnu on the
Serpent of Time
Watching Brahma
Create the universe?
Or are they Matrix aliens
Sucking the dreams
Out of our souls?

Chthonic
Aetheric
Waking
Asleep
I so want to sleep…

shanghai tunnel portland oregon 2

(c) 2018 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGES: Portland, Oregon, Shanghai Tunnels

https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/hypnogogia-dreams-creativity_us_56c5d16ce4b0c3c55053de38

 

LEPUS (HARE)

UNTITLED W-I-P FOR UPCOMING BOOK

Red starry show
Orion struggling in a sea of blood?
No! Just the red glow of
Hind’s Crimson Star
Alpha Leporis
Fourteen times the mass of sun
Drawing all eyes to
Constellation Lepus
Rabbit
Hare
Easy to see
The mythology
Of Orion’s dogs
Canis Major and Minor
Pursuing this incandescent body
But thanks to Ostara
Goddess of Spring
She is granted swiftness
And once a year
Will appear
On the Moon
After traveling 1300 light years
Syncretizing Eastern myths
With Western ones
Bringing eggs to the
Moon Rabbit who is
Fiercely pounding
A lunar mortar by pestle
Grinding out the Elixir of Life
An Asian Philosopher’s Stone for
Immortality
Mystically produced
By the mating of the
Hare and Rabbit
For is not reproduction
A form of immortality?

(c) 2018 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Mortar & Pestle & Baritone

CANOPUS & THEONOE

Will you weigh and measure
My love for you?
Desiccated heart
Faintly crying out
Inside the body
Seat of the soul
A belief by the ancients
Afterlife organs
Spilling out of
Canopic jars
Sons of Horus
Guarding breath, taste
The brain though
Carelessly tossed out
Considered useless
A belief by the ancients
I agree
Look at the troubled path
Down which it led me
So I ask you again
Although the answer I know
You weighed and measured
My love for you
And let me go
With a handful of
Empty jars…
(c) 2018 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Canopic Jars, British Museum/Wikipedia

MOONLIGHT GARDENING

 

Ground fog floating
Accenting a
Full to Dark Moon
Dangerous Waning magic
Carpeting the acreage
Concealing turnips and potatoes
Carrots and rutabagas
Allium onions
Ginger and ginseng
While deep down
Garlic bulbs blindly
Outstretch their
Mossy corpse fingers
Reaching for the sky
Or whatever walks by
Summoned alive
Seduced by a bloody scent
From those fated to die
Earth’s crust of a floor
Disguised underworld door
Since Time began
We sacrifice to
Hades and Persephone
In their Eminent Domain
As we attempt to refrain
From the romance of late night horror
On the black and white screen
Of childhood dreams…

(C) 2018 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

image: moon over garden

CORNUCOPIA

REPOST OF MY THANKSGIVING POEM WRITTEN 2016 TO ALL MY FAMILY,  FRIENDS, and FOLLOWERS  ❤

 

Smoked round reed for spokes and braiders

Soak them into flexibility

Cross, pinch, entwine and weave

Humming hymns of tranquility

 

Zeus breaking off the horn of his nurse

Heracles wrestling a river god of fables

Either led to an abundance myth

Winding up on Thanksgiving tables

 

Growing gourds, red and green Earth treats

Nuts and flowers complete the increase

Profusion of life’s requirements

Create a still life centerpiece

 

Magnetic pull of voices from the past

Call and text loved ones far away

Laughter, tears, music of the spheres

The beauty of a traditional holiday

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Peter Paul Rubens, Abundantia

head game

my entire sense of reality
rattled like a snake’s tail
since you called
since we spoke
can it be true
is it really you
or a holographic image
created self-delusionally
seemingly sprung to life
out of my sorry emotions now dead
like Athena’s birth from Zeus’ head
what is the truth
and, significantly
is it provable……

(c) 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)
IMAGE: Wikimedia Commons, Athena born from Zeus’ Head

FRAGMENT FOR A BARITONE UKULELE (or mandolin) SONG:

fog-wrapped palm by my swamp 2 yrs ago

DECIDED TO ADD ON A ROUGH DRAFT OF WHAT WILL BE THE BODY OF THE SONG:

Year after year

Our lives so dear

You disappeared

Taking my heart

We’re forever apart

As you stay locked

In the wood of the tree

Never to be free

Lost hearts of Palm…

 

Playing one day

Polished obsidian ball

Our two faces reflected

Happiness and perfection

 

You invented words

In a foreign tongue

I laughed, joined in

We chanted, having fun

 

Suddenly gone…

You are suddenly gone

Suddenly gone from me

 

Never did I dream

You’d be so close

Locked away in wood

Brown and gray

 

I thought I’d dreamed you

And then awoke

Until one foggy morning

I heard your voice

 

So far away

And yet so close

Heard your voice

Calling my name

 

Found an axe

But you shouted “No!”

The bark, the leaves, the heart of palm

Part of you

 

Found that old obsidian ball

Polished, washed, sun drenched

Held it next to my heart

Whispered my love

 

Nothing, nothing

(Please, please)

Silence from the swamp trees

 

Words, what words

Did we say

That terrible day

I ask, but you no longer answer

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Two views of my palm tree 2015 & 2017

(it sure did grow/as if it holds the key/to my happiness)

 

 

Save

NERDY BLOGETRY

 

*scroll down for a Joan Baez YouTube video*

 

A friend did send

An article about

Thracian deities

Thrace part of

Bulgaria, Turkey, and Greece

Just south of Romania

My father’s birthplace

My friend did send

When I complained

That her Celtic gods and goddesses

Were so much more interesting

Than the Romani ones

Of course, the Romani ones are from India

But there is the Eastern European part of my blood

That calls out to other deities

 

So being a Fire sign

I was interested in the Fire goddess

Later to become St. Marina

Daughter of Domna (Queen)

Who comes with her own folk song:

“Oh, Domna, Domna, Domna queen!

Domna queen and swallow!”

And the nerd in me

The wannabe folksinger in me

Can suddenly see

Can suddenly hear

The high trilling of none other

Than Joan Baez

Singing and strumming

“Dona, Dona, Dona, Dona”

A song claiming to be a Yiddish folksong

Even though the words

Match up with the Thracian mythology

Of a black sheep being sacrificed

To the Domna

And a swallow, like the swallows

Of San Juan Capistrano

Are elements echoed in the song

“On a wagon, bound for market

Is a calf with a mournful eye…”

And

“Why don’t you have wings to fly with

Like the swallow so proud and free?”

Most interesting of all

After the Eastern European countries shifted

Joan Baez performed her song in

The new country with

The old name of Czechoslovakia

Many of the people saying they were

Long-familiar with the myth

 

So I apologize to some of you

Wading through my nerdy piece of blogetry

But hoping that my fellow nerds

Will feel the delight

Of discovering cultural insight

Of history repeating itself

But in a lovely way

Not a doom but a boon

Of the beat going on…

 

© 2017 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Swallow (Pinterest, no attribution)

 

https://youtu.be/BqzGZ5AaeSs   YouTube video, Joan Baez singing Dona, Dona, Dona (spelling changed to Donna somewhere along the years)